CHAPTER THREE Maren 
The sky is crowded with dragons, more than I have ever seen or dreamed, but they fly with their heads low, the scent of mirth wood oil rich in the air. Naava and I fly among them, and when she roars, her flames flare out toward the horizon. We dart between the cracks of open sky, and at every turn Naava nudges the dragons around her, singing to them too softly for me to make out the melody.
At first the dragons brush off her attentions with ease. But even after my arms begin to tire and the wind bites at the corners of my eyes, Naava stays her course. The sun sets, awash in orange and deep pink. And one by one, the dragons lift their heads and begin to sing.
I started awake, my heart racing. There was only one day until midsummer, one day to break into Lumina, to save Kaia—
No. No, that had already happened. We had escaped. We were… not safe, not really. But we’d left the Talons in complete disarray, and we’d slept peacefully well into the night. The forest was painted in cool shades of blue and gray, and Kaia lay still with her head against my shoulder. The dragon kit nestled against my other side. Naava must have moved while we slept—now she lay curled around us, her mountainous body a shelter from the elements.
I eased my arm out from under Kaia’s head and got carefully to my feet. The air was cold outside of Naava’s reach, and I rubbed my hands together to warm them. Next to me the dragon kit stirred, then sat up and yawned. Her eyes glowed faintly in the darkness.
“Go back to sleep,” I whispered, but it was of no use. She jumped into my arms before settling herself on my shoulder, tail twining behind my neck for balance.
“Well, if you insist.” I couldn’t help but smile as the kit nuzzled her snout against my cheek.
My entire body protested as I moved. The trauma of the last few days had seeped beneath my skin, and it felt as though my very bones were rebelling. I stretched my arms, feeling the strain of the muscles where I had held on to Naava for dear life during our encounter with the Talons. The skin on my left arm pulled and stung—I’d forgotten about the cut I’d sustained from the Prophet’s attack. The wound was shallow and had already scabbed over, but I knew that if I shifted in particular ways, it would reopen. But I still felt the need to move.
The dragon kit and I ventured into the trees. The silence here was weighty, and I had a feeling that the forest was full of its own stories, if only I knew how to listen. It reminded me a little of Vir’s Passage, and I could only hope there were no vengeful spirits here.
Something rustled in the underbrush, and I pressed myself against one of the trees, reaching for my knife. The kit’s claws dug into my shoulders, and then she leaped, gliding clumsily down to the ground and darting off in pursuit of whatever was out there.
“Wait!” I called hoarsely, but it was too late. The kit was gone.
I shuffled forward in the dark, but it was impossible to move quickly without snapping twigs or disturbing branches, and I didn’t want to advertise my position to anyone who might be out there. I stopped. The dragon kit had good instincts. She wouldn’t have gone off to get caught in a trap… would she?
Either way, the forest had gone quiet again. I closed my eyes, listening. After a few moments, I caught the sound of another rustle, something small, coming closer…
The kit pranced out of the underbrush, the limp body of a mouse dangling from her mouth. I let out a sigh of relief and scratched the top of her head and she settled down to eat.
That was one problem solved, at least. As long as the dragon could hunt, we would only need to worry about how to feed ourselves.
As if on cue, my own empty stomach rumbled. I sheathed my knife. The thought of food led unavoidably to the question of what we should do next.
“What are we going to do?” I wondered aloud. We had gotten away this time, but Naava was injured and Sev was still missing. We would make a sorry army storming the emperor’s palace in this state.
Having finished eating, the kit chirped and darted in a circle around my legs. I sighed. “Well, I’m glad to see that one of us has retained a streak of optimism.” I picked her up, and she cuddled against my chest. “Will you speak to me?” Perhaps that was a selfish hope. It was possible that Naava spoke to humans only because she’d been forced to for so long.
“Maren?”
I jumped, almost dropping the kit as I whirled around to see Kaia step out of the shadows. “Tera’s bones, you frightened me!” I said.
“I frightened you? I woke up and you were gone! I thought you’d been taken, or—”
She cut her sentence short, hugging her arms across her stomach. My heart cracked. Had she truly thought I would leave her?
I put the dragon kit down and went to her, wrapping her in my arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would wake up. I just needed to think.”
She muttered something that I didn’t quite hear and pulled me closer. “Don’t leave like that. I was so worried.”
“I won’t.” An intense wave of relief washed through me, and I leaned into her embrace. “I was so afraid I would never see you again,” I said softly.
Her arms tightened around me. “It’s all right. We’re together now.”
Our escape from Lumina had been so panicked—and the confrontation with the Talons terrifying—but those things were behind us now, and the forest around us was calm, and the longer we stood together the more my body remembered that it was more than a vessel for exhaustion.
I buried my face in her hair, inhaling the scent of salt and honey and home. My chest warmed, and I felt a familiar ache growing within me.
“Kaia,” I whispered. She turned her head and sighed against my lips, our bodies pressing together. We kissed, and it was as though no time had passed at all. We were simply Maren and Kaia, as we had always been.
My heart raced as she stripped off my jacket and pulled my shirt over my head, her movements possessed by a sense of urgency that quickly overtook me, too. I fumbled with her robes—too slow, too slow—she helped with the cords, stepping on the hem and laughing a little as she wriggled free of it. The rest of our clothes dropped to the forest floor, and we followed feverishly quick, her name on my lips, her mouth on my skin, her hands confident. She took me and I let her, let the world wash away from me until all I could think was Kaia, Kaia, Kaia.
The forest began to lighten, and I could hear the dragon kit snoring softly a ways from us. I sighed. For the first time in a very long time, I’d been able to rest without being consumed by thoughts of what was to come. Still, I knew we shouldn’t linger any longer. I traced one finger across Kaia’s arm, then nudged her gently.
She woke with a cry, looking around frantically. I caught her hand in mine, and she curled toward me, shaking. Her eyes flooded with tears, and my throat tightened. “It’s all right—you’re all right,” I said. “But it’s time to go.”
She nodded, her shoulders hunched. I held her for a moment longer—then, regretfully, I let her go.
We brushed ourselves off and dressed. But as Kaia turned to pull the Aurati robe over her head, I caught sight of large, fading bruises on her back that had been invisible in the dark.
“Kaia—”
“You’re bleeding,” she interrupted.
What? I looked down to find that the wound on my arm had reopened, though I barely felt the pain. “The Prophet cut me when we were fighting. It’s nothing, just needs a wash and a bandage. I don’t even feel it. But what did they do to you? How did you get those bruises?”
I reached for her, but she flinched, turning away and pulling her robe tighter around herself. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done. Don’t we have to go?”
And just like that, the door that had opened between us in the night slammed shut.
I wanted to plant my feet and refuse to move until she told me exactly what she had endured while she had been held in Lumina. I wanted to hold her and tell her that nothing like that would ever happen to her again. I wanted to grind the Aurati order to dust beneath my boots.
But she was right. We couldn’t stay here.
“All right,” I said. I whistled to the dragon kit, who woke with a happy chirp, and we started back toward the clearing where we had left Naava. Kaia walked in troubled silence, but I was loath to break it—at least not until I knew what I wanted to say, and exactly how to say it. Instead my thoughts turned to our next problem. The road to Gedarin was long, and we needed food and a change of clothing, not to mention a plan of attack. I would have to consult with Naava.
The great dragon opened one eye as we approached, but she didn’t bother raising her head. Her black scales shimmered in the morning light, and her left wing was partially extended, revealing the severity of her wound. I put a hand to my mouth. The gash was long and deep, and still weeping blood. Seeing it clearly, I was shocked that she had remained aloft as long as she had.
I walked closer. “Naava—will it heal?”
In time. Her voice was slow, ponderous. She was even more exhausted than I was. All of my children… none of them are safe. I thought the damage was to my own self only, but they took them all. Chained them. Changed them.
Her focus was wandering, and the depth of her grief was plain in her words. “I’m so sorry,” I said quietly. “But… we can free them now, can’t we? In your dream last night, you sang—”
Dragonsong requires strength, more than I have now. If I am to free my children, I must rest. Her wing flexed, then lay still. I cannot heal here. I must return to Ilvera. Her nostrils twitched, and a thin stream of smoke rose into the air.
“For how long?” I had expected to intercept Sev as he was still being transported. Now he was long gone, and without Naava, there was no way we could snatch him from the emperor’s clutches.
As long as it takes.
“But you promised you would help me rescue Sev. There isn’t much time.”
At this Naava raised her head, leveling me with her stare. Do you mean to say that the life of one human is worth the lives of all dragons? Because if I undertake this task before I have the strength, I will fail. Would you then put the fate of all Verran dragons in the claws of the kit in your care?
“I—”
Being a daughter of the mountain does not absolve you of the potential to do harm. I smelled the oils on you before. Now I smell the fear, the desperation. You say you would never exploit the dragons. But you would value your heartmate’s life above the life of a dragon, if forced to choose. You are merely a human, after all.
“I would not!” I said reflexively. But perhaps she was right. The thought stopped me cold. Perhaps I was more like a Zefedi than I wanted to admit, even now, after everything I had seen and done. I had vowed to free the dragons—and yet I was pressing Naava for her help while she was injured.
Naava shook her head. I am tired. Soon I must take my leave.
“What will we do?” I asked, my spirits sinking.
She snorted. That is easy, child. You do the best you can.
She closed her eyes and turned away, settling back into sleep.
Kaia took my hand. “What did she say?”
“She’s leaving us,” I said.
“But where is she going?” Kaia’s voice cracked. “Will she be back?”
“She’s going to recuperate. To Ilvera.”
“Ilvera?” Kaia drew me away from the dragon, toward the edge of the clearing. “Maren, what are we going to do?”
The best I can do. Even if I was merely a human. I tried to shake off the sting of Naava’s words. Yesterday I had sworn not to rest until the dragons and those I loved were free of the tyrant. I would free the dragons, and I would save Sev. I could still fulfill my vow. I had to believe that.
“We’ll go to Gedarin,” I said, more firmly than I felt. “The tyrant will have brought Sev there—he’ll want him close. And that’s where the Talons are based. We will free the dragons, too.”
Kaia stared at me. “Free the dragons? Maren, what you’re talking about doing… it’s dangerous. Really dangerous.”
I pressed Kaia’s hands between my own. “I know. But so much of what we’ve been told about the dragons is a lie. The emperor drugs them to keep them compliant. They’re captives, and they must be freed. The Verran dragons are our birthright, and even if they weren’t, no creature deserves to be used like this. What monsters are we if we don’t do our utmost to help them? It’s dangerous, but what other choice do we have?”
“We could return to Ilvera. Tell the council. They might be able to help.”
I shook my head. “The council refused to act when you were taken. I wouldn’t trust them with this.” Besides, going all the way back to Ilvera? Much as the idea tugged at my heart, Naava couldn’t carry us with her injuries, and we didn’t have the time to go by foot.
“The Aurati, then,” Kaia countered. “They could be convinced to join your cause.”
I recoiled. “The Aurati abducted you. They kept Naava prisoner for generations. They are the emperor’s sworn servants, and I just tore down their stronghold. What on earth makes you think they would take our side?”
“You don’t know them like I do. They aren’t all—”
“Torturers? Manipulators? The entire Aurati order is built upon lies and exploitation, especially of Verran girls and Verran dragons.”
“You’re wrong,” Kaia said heatedly. “Some of the Aurati are like that. But most are just people who want more out of the world than what’s been given to them. The Aurati’s arms are open to anyone.”
“Anyone who can stay alive through the trials,” I retorted.
She threw up her hands. “Fine! So if the Verran council is too inept, and the Aurati are so evil, they aren’t even worth your consideration, then we should wait until Naava is healed.”
“No, we can’t afford to wait. We have to go now.”
“Why, because the dragons can’t wait a moment longer? They’ve been in captivity for a hundred years. What’s another few weeks?”
I took a deep breath, tried to keep my voice even. “You’re right, the dragons could wait. But Sev can’t.”
Kaia’s eyebrows furrowed. “Sev?” There was a trace of something in her voice that I couldn’t identify.
“Sev helped me get to Lumina, but he’s been captured. He’s the missing prince of Ruzi—we have to get him back.”
Kaia blinked slowly. “Maren… he’s an enemy of the empire.”
“Kaia, I’m an enemy of the empire. And I could not have gotten to you without him. Sev is…” Heartmate. The Prophet’s word ghosted through my mind—the same word Naava had used—and I thrust it aside. “Sev has allies who would have hidden him. He would be safe now if it hadn’t been for me. We owe him. I have to go after him.”
“You would risk everything to save him.” Kaia looked down. “You can’t keep everyone safe, Maren. You cannot swear to that.”
“I swore to come for you, and I did,” I said.
“And so you did.” She hesitated. “Tell me, then. How will we get to him without Naava’s assistance?”
My eyes fell on the dragon kit. “I’m not sure yet,” I admitted. “But if we can free the dragons from the Talons and turn some of them to our side, we might have a chance.”
“This kit hardly measures up to Naava,” Kaia said doubtfully.
The dragon kit, completely unaware of our discussion, was engrossed in stalking a butterfly. “You’re right. I’m not sure what will happen. But I don’t know what else to do but try.”
“Anything, Maren. We should do anything else. Waking a grown dragon, that was one thing. But you’re speaking of walking into Gedarin and somehow besting not just one or two, but the entire fleet of Talons! Armed with nothing more than a baby! The emperor will eat you alive.”
She was right, of course, but I couldn’t think of a better plan of action. Every moment I wasted was a moment that brought Sev closer to death. I couldn’t wait for Naava to recover—and that was assuming that she would still be willing to help me when she was well again. “Nevertheless,” I said. “This is what I must do.”
At this, Kaia bit her lip, looking away. “You—you’ve changed, Maren.”
So had she, but I thought of the bruises on her back and held my tongue. Sadness welled inside me, and I buried the feeling. Nothing that had happened was her fault, and I could not afford to fall apart right now.
“I’m still me,” I said. “When all of this is over, I’ll ask you to come back to Ilvera with me, to build our house by the lake.”
“But not until then.”
I shook my head. “No.”
She nodded. Then she knelt down slowly next to the dragon kit, holding out her hand. The kit sniffed it before butting her head up against it until Kaia petted her tentatively. After what seemed an eternity, she spoke. “All right. I’ll go with you.”