She blinked those whirling eyes at him. “Cale?”
His heart filled with tears that couldn’t fall. He reached shaking hands out to her, touched the spirals of her curls. Soft. Like they used to be. But so different. She was so different.
He let his palms rest on her cheeks. “You’re warm.” He traced her eyes, her nose. “You’re warm.”
Her words came out ragged and desperate. “Cale, I’m sorry. I tried to—”
But he leaned his forehead against hers, so at last, they could cry together.
And their lips met. Cale ran his fingers through her hair, kissing her deeper than he had ever breathed. Because she was warm, and alive, and his.
There was a flurry, a stirring of wind. Ava gripped his shoulder so tight that her nails sliced his skin. She grimaced, gasping in pain, clutching his shirt over her body with her one hand.
“Ava?” What now? What more could she possibly have to endure, just to stay with me?
From behind her, two wings unfurled. Feathers that should have been golden were ashen and charcoal gray, streams of black rippling through the vanes.
They were taller than she was, and they hovered as if she didn’t know how to use them.
“They’re beautiful.”
“No,” she said.
“Yes, Ava. Beautiful.”
She covered her face in shame. But Cale leaned in and took her hands away. “Do they hurt?”
She didn’t answer, yet she couldn’t stifle the groan that left her. Cale circled her, staring at the smooth, perfect skin of her back. The wings were seamless, and though he wished there was some way he could ease her pain, take them from her, he couldn’t. He touched one of the feathers, just a little, and she siezed, biting down on her lip to keep from crying out.
Cale pointed to the sky. “Go back up and tell the angel lady to change you back.”
Ava tried to laugh at him, but it came out bitter. “Ixora? She didn’t do this, Cale. I did.”
“You said…you said you’d be free. You said you wanted what I wanted.”
She nodded, amazed at how dizzy it made her. “I lied.” She stopped and breathed slower. “I’m a liar. I want what I want. And I want to stay with you.”
“So…who did this to you?”
“I had to hatch. I didn’t have a choice. But I refused to be free. I refused to be like Ixora, like my mother. I fought to be here. And this is the price.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Ava touched his hand. “No. I made it happen.”
Cale reached out and traced her collarbone, a streak of darkness following his fingers. Don’t let her go. Don’t ever let her go. “We should find you some clothes.”
But Ava just closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was dressed in her jeans and a white t-shirt.
“That was….” Cale swallowed. “You scared me, Ava.”
“You thought I was dead?”
He shook his head. “I thought you were….” A monster. But he could never let her know that. Instead, he touched the smoothness of her shoulder. “Maybe you should rest.”
Ava laughed at the suggestion. “Cale, I haven’t needed to sleep in days. I haven’t eaten either.”
“Phoenixes don’t…?”
“I don’t need anything.”
He nodded. “But it hurts you.”
She bit her lip, trying to hold in the lie that was about to break free.
“Ava, tell me the truth. It hurts you all the time, doesn’t it? And you keep it from me.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
She sighed. “Cale, we don’t have to—”
“How much? Ava, how much?”
“It’s hell, okay? It’s like I’m here with you, but my body is in hell.” She was quiet for a moment. “But I chose to fight it.” She met his eyes. “I chose you this time.”
Cale stared at her, at the strength she showed and the pain he could see but couldn’t share. And for the first time since he’d found her, he didn’t know how he felt about Ava Johnson. “You shouldn’t have done this.”
Ava stared back. Cameron was right. If she let in one thing, she let in all of them. And Cale’s words hurt more than her wings ever would.
She finally cleared her throat and willed her wings away. They folded into the air and vanished, though the pain remained as if they were still there. She couldn’t believe he hated what she’d done for him. She couldn’t stomach it. She’d been right, back in the monastery when she whispered how she felt. Even when she tried her best, even when she gave everything up to stay with him—she was worthless. Shut him out, Ava, she told herself. Shut it all out. If she wanted to go on, she would have to.
“We should go,” she said.
“We should go.”
And Cale watched as Ava made her way out of the crater, without his help, even though she really needed it.
Seventeen
Shiloh
Shiloh walked the grand halls of the grey court with Rane on his shoulder. Scarlet drapes lined the windows, and the night servants crawled along on their hands and knees, scrubbing the already immaculate floors.
He hated the chill that seeped into his bones, but he had grown to accept it over the years. It was his lot in life. To bear the cold, the hunger, the solitude so that his dragon could live a good life. It was the way of the grey book. Others had always taught him how to live. Rules were meant to be followed. Cold was meant to be endured.
The red dragon chief followed him, keeping a considerate distance. Either that, or she was afraid of him. Dragons of every race feared the deathbringers. And it was well earned. Shiloh could destroy them just by saying their names.
We are in danger.
“I know,” Shiloh said in the soft rhytm of no-ir tongue.
Yet we are still going. Rane’s voice was quiet, little more than a rumble in Shiloh’s chest.
“Yes. We are still going.”
Because we must help the red dragons?
“No. Although it is good for us to help them.”
Speak to me, then. Why?
Shiloh paused, glancing at his dragon, and then back at the ground. “You don’t want to go?”
I will go with you. I will always go with you.
“Alright then. We have come back so I may talk to the others. We need to tell them what we have found out.”
And if they choose not to be loyal to you? If they side with the greys?
“Then they will kill us.”
Then they will kill us.
He turned a few corners and stopped before they entered the central hall. The red dragon chief slowed already cautious steps.
“Aren’t we going in?” she asked.
“Yes. But first, I must warn you. Nothing like this has ever been done. I cannot promise you the greys will react toward you with grace.”
Emaline nodded. She carried herself high, her shoulders broad and her dark features striking. Yet, for all her regality, she was chosen to represent a race of rowdy reds. And she’d embraced it. Her head she wore shaved to save time, her dress woven from rough dragonthread so she could move when she needed to.
“I understand, no-ir,” she said. “But I will do everything I can to help my people.”
Shiloh listened to his dragon and to the quiet of their core. There was a time he would not have thought to listen for it. He was always taught by the greys that their core was empty, filled with nothing but the will to serve their masters.
The first time he listened for the silence, he had been a boy. And he saw Pendulus—a wide-eyed, square-headed underling with a haggled dragon—and he and Rane decided to protect them. It was the first time he’d ever broken a rule. But it felt right.
And there were other things. The phoenix and her dragon when they needed help. And Juliette….
And now, the red dragon chief with her prominent bones and her wisdom. It was against the will of the greys. It was against what every deathbringer was taug
ht. But, in the nothingness of their core, he and Rane knew it was right.
“The judges will not harm you without a trial, chief. That will buy you time if you need it.”
“It won’t come to that,” Emaline said. She walked with confidence. With every step, she glided, her long white dragonthread dress moving with her.
Shiloh pushed open the central hall doors—giant blackened mahogany, carvings of every race chiseled into the firm wood.
Ima, the judge of pain, was hurrying across the space when they entered. She halted, staring with wide eyes before she composed herself. Her hair was askew, as if she had been running, and her cheeks—usually pale and gray—were flushed dark. Her little blue sprite was nowhere to be seen.
She hustled to them, strands of her hair falling from her carefully orchestrated updo. She lifted her skirts and smoothed the silvery lace with soft hands.
“What are you doing here?” She whispered at Shiloh. “Do you want Sirce to kill you?”
“I am here to request an audience with all of you. I have been asked to escort the red dragon chief.”
Ima darted crystal eyes at Emaline, and promptly ignored her. She pointed to Shiloh with a fierce gesture. “You are supposed to live, Shiloh Deathbringer. And Sirce would very much like to make sure that doesn’t happen. Leave. Now.”
Emaline stepped forward, standing just as tall as Ima. “Lady Judge, we have a situation on our hands. We may be put in a position where we must declare war. Surely—”
Ima leaned in closer to Emaline, her eyes wild. “You want war? Go on. Start one. You don’t think we rejoice in the chaos and pain it creates? We revel in it. It makes us stronger. So go ahead and start your war. It will end in terror for you and victory for us.”
Emaline stood her ground, her deep brown eyes steady. “We want you to restore the rightful balance, Lady Judge. We want you to work for our good. War will not be good for anyone. It will destroy both sides. But things must change if we are to avoid it. We cannot allow this to continue.”
A fat, green goblin wobbled over to them. He was sweating, his hair matted to his lumpy head. “Lady Ima, come quick. It is your brother.”
Ima rolled icy eyes. “Sirce can wait.”
“It’s not Sirce, Lady Ima. It is…it is Papu,” and the goblin shook his head. “He will get himself in so much trouble unless you hurry. He is trying to leave the courts.”
Ima paled. “I will settle it, Gabor. Thank you.”
Shiloh frowned. “Papu? The Judge of Revenge would not—”
Gabor noticed Shiloh and froze. “You?” He closed his eyes as if he wanted to scream. “What are you doing back here, Deathbringer? After all my fine work to save you!” But before he could expound, he motioned to Ima. “Go and stop Papu, before he kills us all, Lady Ima.”
Ima ran, and Gabor slapped stern, pudgy hands together to make his point heard. “Shiloh, you are not to come back here. Do you understand?”
“It is you who must understand, Gabor. The chief means to start a war. Thousands will suffer if we do not prevent it.”
“We all will suffer if you go before your time. War is nothing compared to the price we pay for losing you.”
Shiloh furrowed his brows. “I am no one, goblin. I have always been no one. A servant of the greys.”
“You are more than a bringer of death. Can’t you see? You will teach them who they were meant to be.”
“Who?”
“Them. You’ll show them how to listen. How to judge.”
“I do not judge—”
“You judge!” Gabor wiped the sweat from his brow. “You judge. Don’t you understand? No one understands Gabor. No one. But Gabor knows. Gabor is a good goblin, and Gabor knows.”
Shiloh bent down on one knee and took the creature by his shoulders. Gabor was clammy, his skin secreting the distinct scent of mushrooms, which were all the creature ate. Shiloh meant to calm him, but Gabor wouldn’t have it.
“I will take the chief. You will leave.” Gabor’s mud-green eyes were so big, they took up most of his fat face. “You will leave!”
Gabor bobbled to Emaline and took her cocoa hand in his. “Come, pretty lady. I will take you to my master.”
Emaline turned back to Shiloh as Gabor tugged her, gripping her wrist. “Who is this little person? Should I trust him?”
“There is no one truer than Gabor,” Shiloh called after them.
Shiloh wasted no time, his boots silent as he hurried through the halls and up the dozens of flights of stairs. Each flight took them further from the exquisite marble and decadent incense that represented the grey lifestyle and closer to the stark, plain stone walls and the frozen, rigid air of the dungeons.
Faster. Faster, Shiloh.
“I do not want to run, Rane. It will alarm people.”
We are unsafe. We are unsafe.
“I know, Rane. We are going quickly.”
Shiloh…we are—
Shiloh stopped on the stairs and took Rane from his shoulder. He sat down and looked his dragon in the eyes.
“Rane.”
Shiloh.
“This will be worth it.”
You are sure?
“No.”
Rane thought for a moment. Another moment. We don’t follow the rules if the rules are wrong.
Shiloh nodded. “That’s what we decided.”
They were so young then. Barely hatched. But they had decided.
We will do what’s right, so we can get you back to her in time.
Shiloh hummed. “Yes, back to her.”
Go.
Shiloh hurried up the remaining flights and burst through the door that led to the resting area. Most of his fellow no-ir were there, the dragons lounging and the riders sitting at the bare table, trying to ignore how frozen and hungry and tired they were.
Some of them stood when he entered, their eyes wide. Elac, one of the riders, stepped forward, his mouth pulled into a hard, unflinching line. His eyes were slanted in towards his nose, his nose wide. Elac stood up so his cape flapped against the back of his boots.
“Shiloh…what are you doing here?”
“We’ve come to warn you.”
“Warn us? You and Pendulus are wanted. The greys have ordered us to apprehend you. The Accuser wants you dead.”
“Yet you have not come for me.”
They all stared at him. Shiloh had been their leader. And though they were never permitted to have friends, he had always been honorable, and following him had been natural. But following the greys…that was who they were supposed to be.
“We will obey the greys. It’s our purpose.”
“No.” Shiloh took a deep breath. He was about to speak treason out loud. He was about to seal his fate as condemned. He and Rane prepared to run, even as the words left his mouth. “The negative energy the greys pour out of their windows…they do it because they care not for our world. They do it because they are selfish. They have lost their way. It is up to us to decide whether we will follow them or not. If the red dragons declare war, I will side with them, against the greys.”
“We have to follow them. It’s why we are here. This is what the grey book says.” Elac spoke louder, hoping it would make the others listen to him the way they’d always listened to Shiloh.
“Elac, it may be what we were told, but Rane and I believe that it is untrue. I urge you, no-ir, to listen to your cores. Find your truth. For I know I have found mine. And never again will I execute a dragon for the sake of the grey judges.”
“Shiloh….” It was one of the quietest riders, Darsy. It was rare for him to say anything at all. Yet he spoke, his dragon peeking out from behind the hem of his cape. “If you defect, we will have to hunt you.”
Shiloh nodded. “Or join me.”
“You are a fool,” Elac said. “We will do you and your dragon the honor of a head start, as tribute to your service. But know that you are no longer one of us. You and anyone who follows you.”
“El
ac,” the shy one whispered. “You must harness yourself.”
“I am not the one who needs to kill his words, Darsy. Shiloh is poisoned. Pendulus is poisoned. They must be ended before their wickedness spreads. And it will be by my hand.” He crossed his arms. “Leave. Now.”
Shiloh took one last look around. The place had been his home. The cold, empty stone walls, the iced air flooding through the glassless windows. He had slept in one of those rooms, on a slab of rough stone, whenever he could no longer bear to be awake. He had endured starvation and the trauma of frozen nights.
He felt pain for his brothers. Because they did not know the joy of touching someone who didn’t fear them. They did not know what it was like to speak and be heard, to kiss and be kissed. And because he felt for them, he had to try one more time, to share what he knew.
“There is something greater than this life. I know, because I have found it. And I risked my life—and the well being of my dragon and my family—to tell you that you can find it, too.”
And he could see, maybe, what he hoped was a flicker of longing in some of his brethren. Maybe a flash of the realization that there was a better truth for them.
He turned to leave, and the shy one hurried behind him. “Shiloh,” he said, touching his shoulder. It was strange for Darsy to do. No-ir did not often touch. Unlike Elac, he spoke with his eyes to the ground, out of respect. “You cannot fight them. The greys will win.”
Shiloh put his hand on Darsy’s shoulder. “Yes. They will win. Unless someone changes everything.”
And once he left the room, Shiloh did run, sprinting down the stairs as quickly as he could make his leather boots move.
The others are preparing to come for us.
“We must retrieve the red dragon chief before we fly.”
Move faster, Shiloh. Time is running out. We will not make it.
Back in the courts, Shiloh ran into the central hall, his blackened eyes searching for signs of Gabor. But the Goblin was not there. Instead, Sylphie, her blue gossamer wings fluttering, sped over to him, her tiny hands wringing together.
“Shiloh, at last I’ve found you.” Her little voice trembled. “You must go. Go now.”
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