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Between the collapsing buildings ran tiny specks. People. The dragon swooped down like a hawk, grasping one between his talons, then hurling them back into his waiting jaws. I stared in horror as the dragon swallowed, a crimson glow lighting the inside of his throat as his feast was roasted alive.

He’s not just burning the city. He’s feeding on it.

Inferni become drunk on blood and ruin, Nyxaris answered. Have no doubt, Vorago is enjoying this.

I felt sick to my stomach. Nyxaris banked, wings beating hard against the air.

Get ready, he warned. Terror is a chain. Do not let it wind itself around you or your city is lost.

My hands shook as I reached for a bolt, setting it in Lunaya’s crossbow. Then I slid forward, pressing my chest to the broad ridge that rose between Nyxaris’s neck plates. Hugging it, I leaned the crossbow against it, stock wedged beneath my shoulder. Neville seemed absolutely unfazed by everything.The little hollow he’d settled in left him curled up near my right hip, the plume of his tail draping across my lower back like a blanket. It was oddly comforting.

“Hold steady,” I whispered.

I already am, Nyxaris rumbled.

I tried to breathe in time with him—inhale on the wing rise, exhale as the wing fell. Vorago—Blake—I didn’t know what the hell to call him—was breathing fire through the streets below. He hadn’t seen us. Yet. I aimed. Exhaled. Squeezed.

The bolt vanished into smoke. At least a hundred feet short.

I loaded, aimed, fired again. And missed. The quarrel spun out uselessly into the dark.

I can’t do this. My voice was filled with panic. I’m hopeless. Take me back. Get Medra.

That is not an option, Nyxaris growled. Would you have me use fire?

No, not yet.

Third bolt. I let the updraft guide me, then released. A spark blossomed as the shaft buried itself under the root of Vorago’s right wing. The Inferni lurched, roaring. His serpentine neck snapped towards us, molten eyes narrowing.

My stomach plunged. “He’s seen us.”

It was only a matter of time, Nyxaris said, sounding much calmer than I felt.

Vorago shot upwards. Nyxaris folded one wing and dove. Flame sheeted overhead, and I screamed, reaching for Neville, who was still planted in place, his tail wound around me.

Get ready to fire again, Nyxaris commanded, as he leveled out over the harbor.

Lever, drag, nock. My shoulders burned. I loosed the bolt just as the Inferni blew fire across my sights. The quarrel flew wide. I shot another. Then another. And another.

Eighth bolt, I whispered.

Feel the wind. Let it guide your hand. Breathe with me.

I tried my best to do as he said. Exhale. Squeeze. The quarrel sailed true. Vorago reeled, spinning through the air, and for a moment I thought he would crash to the ground. I held my breath.

The Inferni leveled, then rushed upwards.

“Oh, Bloodmaiden,” I moaned as the dragon sped towards us. I ducked my head as fire spread from the Inferni’s maw and Nyxaris turned, spinning us out of the way of the flames.

I’ve hit him with two bolts. Shouldn’t he be slowing? You were nearly immobile at this point.

Inferni and Duskdrakes have different physiologies, Nyxaris pointed out. But he is slowing, never fear. Mark him.

He was right.Vorago staggered, his wings hitching for a few slow beats. It’s working, I started to say, relief beginning to flood my body.

Then the great red head jerked up. A roar of fury tore across the sky. The Inferni powered forward with renewed energy.

Nyxaris let out a string of curses in Classical Sangrathan. This was a mistake. Godsbane is not enough.