CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Maren

Now that we were in agreement, Kaia and I were welcomed with curiosity and open arms. The village in Doran Forest was home to refugees from all over Zefed who had fled the tyrant’s reach. There were about fifteen in Efren’s group, all of whom had escaped Ruzi a few days earlier to come in search of the dragon mistress. They hadn’t tracked us—they’d tracked our dragon encounters. Every new report of a dragon acting strangely had let them closer.

Efren led the group efficiently, and the next morning—after far too little sleep—we were on our way to Ruzi. Despite the way in which our paths had collided, I was happy to be with Efren. I knew less about the geography of Zefed than I should, and having a knowledgeable guide—to Ruzi, and then to Gedarin—made me feel safer. The dragon kit was having fun entertaining the Ruzians with wing flaps and snorts of flame. None of them had ever seen a dragon so young before, and they were mesmerized.

But Kaia still wasn’t talking to me—she’d even found someplace else to sleep last night—and that remained the case as we covered ground. I stayed quiet too. I knew that she was expecting me to take the first step toward reconciliation, but I was angry. She’d said she was stuck with me? I wasn’t going to apologize. Not when she’d said that and had the gall to claim I never thought about what she wanted. I was making the decisions because someone had to, not because I relished being the one in control. My dragon-touched abilities didn’t make me special—but they did feel like my own, like I had discovered a part of myself that had always been there. I would never wish to give them up. And Sev…

It had torn at my heart to watch him cry, even in a dream. And I had been jealous when he had mentioned Piera, whoever that was. Sev had seen me. Where Kaia had stifled me—unintentionally, but still—Sev had encouraged me to shine.

I watched Kaia across the distance that she had put between us. Despite our argument, she was still here, because she loved me. She disagreed with parts of what I was doing, she wasn’t even speaking to me, but she was still here. But were we still meant for each other?

The question terrified me. I couldn’t answer it—could barely even think it. Even the act of asking cracked open the agonizing possibility of another timeline, a future different from any I had ever pictured. What would I do when this was all over, if she wasn’t by my side? For the first time in my life, I looked into the future and saw only shadows.

And as the afternoon waned, we reached Ruzi.

At first it was a shimmer in the distance, something that didn’t match the rest of our surroundings. But over the course of the next hour, the landscape resolved into a growing line, and then a sweeping ocean of dusty red flowers that took my breath away. I’d never seen anything like it in my life.

“What is this?” I asked.

Efren smiled. “The Red Plains of Ruzi,” she replied. “This is the border between Oskiath and Ruzi. The soil underneath is red as well—that’s why it looks as it does. Useless for growing crops, but it’s something to see.” She shaded her eyes with one hand, looking around. “This is also where we need to be careful of Talons. We’ll wait under cover until night falls. Then we’ll go underground.”

Underground? The memory of Vir’s Passage was still fresh in my mind, and I wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. “For how long?” I said, well aware of the worry in my voice.

Efren looked up at the sky. “An hour before night. Then a few hours more in the tunnel.”

“All underground?”

The dragon kit wound herself around my legs and leaned her head against my knee.

Efren shrugged. “I’m sorry. It’s the only way in.”

The only way. Despite the jump of my stomach, I told myself that this was a minor challenge compared to everything else I had faced—and had yet to face. I should have been laughing about it.

Efren’s group had dug foxholes at the edge of the forest that were covered by woven mats painted to look like the Red Plains. Kaia and I ducked into one together, along with the dragon kit. There was enough room for each of us to sit, though it was a tight fit. It was the closest that we’d been since leaving the forest.

Even if Kaia wanted to apologize, she would never say it first. It was up to me to speak.

“We should talk,” I said quietly.

Kaia looked straight ahead. “Have you made up your mind?”

The gaping black hole of the future yawned open at me again. I closed my eyes. “I don’t know what to do. I want us to be all right.”

“There’s distance between us,” Kaia said. “Maybe we’re both to blame for it, but it’s there.”

“Then help me close the gap,” I said.

In the semidarkness of the foxhole, her hand found mine and squeezed, and my heart contracted around that gesture. I took a deep breath.

“I was a food taster at the dragon fortress,” I told her. “That was the only position open when I got there. I tasted such rich food, but every time I thought it might be my last.”

“Did you ever get poisoned?” Her voice was hushed.

“Gods, no!” It was easy to laugh about, now that it was in the past. Lord Patak, Lilin, Kellyn—I’d been so frightened then. Now they mattered not at all. “Probably the closest I ever got to dying was when I broke out of the fortress. I thought I could tame a yearling and escape—instead I almost drowned, and that dragon almost ate me alive.”

“What happened?”

“Sev saved me,” I said, sobering. “I wouldn’t be alive if he hadn’t been there.”

“Oh.” Kaia went quiet for a while. “What did you do next?”

I looked at her. It was difficult to read her expression in the dark. “Do you really want to know?”

She nodded. “I do.”

I had been reluctant to tell the whole story before. Not because I had kissed Sev—I hadn’t—but because I knew that in the telling, I wouldn’t be able to conceal the depth of the connection that we had forged. But now I knew I had to be honest—to know who I had become, Kaia had to see what had made me. So I took a deep breath and told her everything.

Once I had finished, she said nothing about Sev. Instead she said only, “You came for me. Through all of that.”

“How could I have done anything else?” I turned to her. “Kaia… what happened to you in Lumina?”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Please.”

She sighed. “At first they told me that I was special. Gifted. Chosen. But when they put me in front of the dragon, it was clear that something was wrong. That I was wrong.” Her hand trembled as she held it out in front of her. “I tried to do what they wanted, but—” Her breath caught. “Maren, I can’t.”

I took her hand and pressed a kiss against her palm. “I’m so sorry,” I said, an awful pain in my throat at the thought of what she had gone through.

“I tried so hard to prove myself, but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough,” Kaia said, her voice breaking with a sob. Her words reminded me suddenly of Naava’s last words to me. I hadn’t thought of the prophecy at all since our last dragon encounter—if I didn’t prove myself, I would not have Naava’s assistance when I most needed it.

“Naava told me I was wrong too,” I confessed. “When she left us to return to Ilvera. She needed to heal, but she was angry with me as well. She said that I was using the dragons for selfish purposes. That if I wanted her help again, I had to prove myself beyond the reach of her wings. So… I understand. About not being enough. About proving yourself.”

Was I doing that? We were going to Ruzi to free dragons. That counted, didn’t it? Even if freeing those dragons was also instrumental in securing other allies?

“I can’t believe you,” Kaia said, cutting through my thoughts.

“What?” I said.

“Maren, this is critical information, and you didn’t tell me! If you don’t have Naava’s support when we reach Irrad, what are we going to do?” She barreled on without waiting for a reply. “Did you think that since you’re the only one who can speak to dragons, you’re the only one who should know what they say? This is just like before—you’re keeping things from me and making decisions without me.”

“It’s not like that at all! I just—” How could I explain that I had felt ashamed? That I didn’t want to talk about the prophecy because it would mean admitting I hadn’t proven myself yet? That she was right—there was a chance that Naava would stay away, but there was nothing else I could do but follow this path to its conclusion?

“Just nothing. I can’t believe you did that to me, Maren.”

She crossed her arms and turned away from me, and I let her.

There was no privacy in this small space, so I pretended that I didn’t see her crying—because I knew that she would push me away if I reached out. We didn’t talk after that. But later, as I was close to dozing off, I heard her whisper.

“Perhaps I’m a fool, but I still want to be with you. I still want the adventures we talked about. You’re my heart.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak. Instead I shifted so that I leaned against her, resting my head on her shoulder and taking her hand in mine. She made me want to cry. But all of the adventures she’d spoken of in Ilvera were predicated on one thing—the empire.

What would happen when the dragons were freed? I had tried to pretend that I didn’t care, that everyone who benefited from the system that exploited the dragons was complicit and therefore equally culpable. But that wasn’t exactly true. Almost no one in Zefed had known about the captivity of the mother dragon. And the emperor’s iron grip on the dragons meant that there was no way to protest their treatment even if one wanted to—other than outright rebellion. Now… I had vowed to free the dragons and take down the empire. But what would grow in its place? If I broke this world, was it my responsibility to help put it back together?

---

Sometime later Efren thumped on the top of the foxhole. “Time to go,” she said.

We climbed out to see that darkness had fallen, giving us cover. We crept carefully across the Red Plains until one of the Ruzians held up a hand. He knelt down in the darkness and drew aside another woven mat. Underneath was a large hole that had been dug straight down. One by one the Ruzians lowered themselves into the hole. A light flared to life—the tunnel was shallower than I’d thought. I nodded. Having a light made the whole situation significantly more bearable. Kaia went before me. Then I jumped down, and Efren passed the dragon kit to me before following, pulling the mat back over the hole.

We were in a tunnel that had clearly been designed and built by people who knew what they were doing. It wasn’t large, but there was enough room for two people to walk side by side, and there were wooden beams supporting the ceiling. “Who built this?” I asked.

“Best as we can tell, one of the royal families that thought they needed an escape route from the city. But it seems to have been forgotten until recently. The current king certainly doesn’t know about it,” Efren said. She took a torch from one of the other Ruzians. “Let’s go—it’s a long walk.”

Time passed differently underground. Unlike in Vir’s Passage, at least I had the torches to help keep track. We were nearing the end of our third torch when Efren held up her hand, stopping our group.

We stood, silent, and I became aware of a low muffled hum. We were close. Efren doused her torch, and the other torchbearers followed suit. I blinked, my eyes adjusting, and soon I could see a glimmer of light up ahead. We had reached a doorway.

Efren went to the door and pulled gently on a cord that hung there. Then she stepped back, drew her knife, and held it steady. The other Ruzians did as well, so I reached for my knife too. Was this part of the plan? Were we expecting to fight our way out of this? Though, I felt that if that were the case, we would have been told.

The door creaked, and we tensed.

Then it opened fully, revealing a young Ruzian man.

Efren’s shoulders relaxed, and she sheathed her knife before hugging the man. “How goes?” she said.

“The streets are quiet. Everyone’s exhausted, Ef.” The man peered around her. “Did you find her?”

“Yes! Maren, come!” Efren waved at me, and the Ruzians nudged me forward. The dragon kit jumped up to my shoulder—she was getting too heavy for that—and I stepped out of the tunnel and into what looked like an abandoned basement.

“Maren, this is my brother Jase. Jase, Maren. The dragon mistress.” Efren said the words with a certain amount of relish, and I found my cheeks heating up at the way Jase looked at me—awed, and perhaps a little frightened.

“I’m happy to help,” I said. The rest of the group filed out of the tunnel and closed it off again, then piled furniture in front of it until it was hidden from view. “Where are we?”

“Local tavern,” Jase said. “It’s become our base of operations.”

“And you’re not concerned about being discovered?” Kaia said.

“The Talons are starving us out with minimal effort. I don’t think they really care what else happens in Ruzi as long as we remain within the perimeter. And the royal family has barricaded themselves in their palace.” There was a bit of a sneer in his voice.

“Which should give us the opportunity to pull this off,” Efren said. “Let’s eat. Then we can plan.”

The food was meager—not enough rice, with only a bit of shaved carrot for each bowl—and everyone ate slowly, trying to draw out their meals. When it was over, Efren rose and offered a hand to me. “Come with me.”

I hadn’t realized that it was an invitation for me only. I looked back at Kaia, whose hurt flashed briefly over her face before she called the dragon kit over to her. “Go,” she said. “I’ll watch the kit.”

I went.

I was surprised to see that it was early morning—our walk in the tunnel had taken longer than I’d thought. The streets were close to empty. Efren led me to the edge of a neighborhood square. “This is the best place to see the Talons.”

“Not from the roofs?” I studied our surroundings. The buildings in this district were only two or three stories, but every bit of height would help in getting a view of the Talons’ barricade.

Efren shook her head. “They burn people off the roofs. They don’t want anyone getting too close. We shouldn’t be up there until you’re ready to…” She waved her hands expressively, and I realized that she was concerned that someone might be listening.

I nodded, and she looked up at the sky. “It’s almost time. They do an air maneuver with the sunrise to remind us they’re here.”

We waited.

So this was Ruzi. I looked around, trying to see Sev anywhere in these streets, these buildings. The city wasn’t as open as Belat—the walls were higher, the structures more fortified. I supposed that made sense, considering that Ruzi was a border kingdom that edged up against the mountains separating the empire from Old Zefed, the place from which the first Flame of the West had come. The two empires coexisted peacefully, for the most part—at least, that was what I understood.

“Have you ever been to Old Zefed?” I asked.

Efren looked at me. “No,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

I shrugged. “I’m from Ilvera. Before all this, I’d never been anywhere. I never even thought about Old Zefed, not really. But you’re so close. I was just curious.”

Efren nodded. “Ruzi does some trade with Old Zefed. Of course, to them, we’re New Zefed. I’ve heard that Old Zefed even sent some relief supplies since the riots started, but we’ve been cut off completely.”

Compassion, from another empire? That was hard to fathom.

Suddenly she pointed up. “Look!”

I followed her gaze and watched as the Talons of Zefed flew overhead.

During my travels, I’d seen Talons alone and in pairs. But I had never seen so many at once. I counted six in the first pass, and another five as the Talons wove around one another in a braidlike pattern, dancing across the sky. Eleven Talons total, and the emperor had been able to spare them? Not to mention the ones we had already come across on the road… For the first time, I began to reckon with the size of the emperor’s force.

How would we free so many dragons at once? It seemed impossible. I needed Naava. But she had said she would not come until I had proven myself. Had I done enough? I was almost certain I had not.

I shook my head. It didn’t matter—I had to do this. The dragons were relying on me, as was the kingdom of Ruzi. And so was Sev.

“Have you been able to discern any patterns of movement or behavior?” I said. “They can’t be flying like this all the time.”

“Aside from the group maneuvers, they patrol in shifts of five—and two in each shift are stationed above the city at all times. And there’s one that I think is the leader.”

All right. Five at a time, then. Five wasn’t so many more than two. I could handle five—at least, five was a lot fewer than eleven. But this was a city, and freeing dragons came with risks. While we might have been able to free five at a time, it seemed unlikely that we would be able to talk five confused dragons down from their anger.

The ghosts of piercing screams swept across my mind, bringing with them the memory of the stench of burning flesh. I swallowed down bile and thrust the memory away. Five dragons could destroy the entire city.

“If you’ve been tracking me, then you know what dragons usually do after they are freed,” I said slowly.

Efren nodded, frowning.

“There’s a good chance that there will be damage. I don’t know the city. Is there somewhere that’s been deserted—or without buildings? A place with running water would be ideal.”

Efren snapped her fingers. “There’s a park on the south side of the city, along the river. The royal family—Prince Severin’s family, I mean—had a house there. Because of what happened to them, it’s been abandoned.”

“Perfect. When do the Talons change shifts?”

“Midnight and midday.”

“Tomorrow, then. Midday,” I said. If we were going to free five dragons at once, I needed to be rested. Tomorrow would come quickly enough.