CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT Sev

I opened my eyes. It was dark around me—was it night? No—I was somewhere inside, lying sprawled on the ground. My entire body ached.

This was all wrong—I had been flying; I had seen Maren fly. What had happened?

Someone spoke near me, and I froze, straining to hear.

“My lord.” That was Faris—where had she come from? “The girl has arrived at the palace.”

Maren! My heart leaped, but I held still. How had she gotten to the palace? Come to think of it, how had I?

“What about the dragon?” the emperor replied.

“None of the large ones. She only has the baby.”

“And where is she now?”

“Coming toward the gardens.”

“Then it won’t be long.”

I turned my head minutely, trying to keep as quiet as possible. We were in the Garden of Glass, named for the glass trees hung with shards so sharp, they could cut a throat if they fell—but the lanterns had gone out. Why had no one relit them? I shifted, trying to suss out the space around me. I was still shackled, and weaponless. But this was the Garden of Glass. If I could find a loose piece…

A flare of fire in the sky illuminated the garden for a brief moment, and I saw Vix the Ruiner splayed on the ground, its breathing labored. Two people stood next to the dragon—Faris and Rafael.

The light faded as quickly as it had come, but I knew what I had seen. The emperor’s clothes were torn and dirty, his hair askew and an ugly slash across his face. But he still held his sword at his side, ever at the ready.

Scattered images were coming back to me—the sky battle, the Seratese force, the massive dragon that had appeared from the south. Maren’s face, white lipped when she’d seen me. And then we’d… fallen?

I didn’t know how much time had passed, or how we had gotten back to the palace, but it was eerily quiet. Where had everyone gone?

Rafael looked my way. “I see you’ve rejoined us, Prince Vesper,” he said. He pointed his sword at me, sneering. “Don’t even think about moving. I wouldn’t want to have to punish you before our guest arrives.”

Once such a threat would have made me quake with terror. And I was—afraid, and exhausted, and alone. But so was he. Once the Flame of the West had seemed all-knowing, all-powerful. Now, abandoned by his followers and stripped of his dragons, he was still dangerous, still deadly. But he was just a man.

One of us would die today, I was certain. But it might not be me.

I tried to catch Faris’s eye. She had said she would help me—did that only extend to looking the other way during my escape attempt? Hadn’t we become some sort of friends?

There was a footstep in the silence. I turned my head in time to see Maren come through the doorway, a sword raised in her hands, as if she had walked out of my dreams and into reality. The dragon kit walked beside her, so much larger than I remembered. She’d tripled in size at least—now her head came up to Maren’s knee.

And Maren! She looked tired but resolute, and she walked into the garden like a queen. Her gaze skimmed over Vix, Faris, and the emperor before landing on me. For one split second, her face crumpled with emotion.

Then Rafael laughed. “So you are the so-called dragon mistress? You’re scarcely more than a girl.”

But his laughter was hollow. He was nervous, no frightened. Watching, I saw Maren’s hands tighten on the hilt of the sword. She raised her chin, staring him down. She stepped forward, and her gaze flicked to me for one more moment. Then she looked back at the emperor. At once I realized—Faris and Rafael were looking at Maren. She had their complete attention, and as long as they were focused on her, I had an opening.

I looked around. There were glass shards hanging from a decorative tree to my right. Could I get to them without being noticed?

The emperor’s jaw tightened. He motioned with his hand, and Vix struggled to its feet.

“Your dragon is wounded,” Maren said. “It will injure itself further at your command.”

“I am the Flame of the West, emperor of Zefed,” Rafael rasped harshly. “I am the flame eternal and I will not be commanded by a traitorous peasant. You will die for your insolence.” He gestured once more, and the dragon trudged forward, laboriously, planting itself between Maren and the emperor. I couldn’t see Maren now, could only hear her—I assumed that was her, though I could not make sense of the sound I heard. It was a song, I thought, but the notes were discordant and jarring to my ear. All the same, the dragon seemed to be affected—it had opened its mouth to spew fire, but now it wavered.

The emperor shouted, unscrewing another vial of oil, and I seized my chance. I pushed myself to my feet and hopped awkwardly toward the tree—but something hit me from behind, sending me sprawling. I rolled over, raising my arms to block a blow that didn’t come.

Faris knelt at my side, shoving something into my hands—a key. “Hurry up!” she whispered. “He won’t be distracted forever!”

She stood up and aimed a kick at my ribs so soft that I barely felt it. I faked a yelp of pain and curled into a ball, fumbling to unlock the shackles. Success! I lowered the shackles quietly to the ground and rose to my feet. My limbs ached from being bound for so long, but I had no time to tend to them. I ran to the tree and yanked down a glass shard, then tucked it into my pocket. On the other side of the garden Vix was spitting fire, engulfing the garden in brightness and flame. Then there was an enormous crash, and the air turned smoky and even darker.

It seemed that Maren had succeeded in distracting Vix from attacking her directly, but now the dragon was crashing through the garden, bellowing out indiscriminate plumes of fire. Both Maren and the emperor were running from its attacks. Sweat beaded on my brow as the garden burned. We had to get out of here before we were trapped.

I looked at Faris. “Let’s go!”

We picked our way toward the door, dodging glass as it fell and shattered on the ground. I ran for Maren and grabbed her by the hand. “Come on!” I cried, dragging her out of the garden and back into the hallway. The dragon kit scrambled after us. For a moment I felt relief as we sprinted down the hall… and then I heard a crash behind us.

“Severin!” shouted Rafael, his voice echoing down the hall.

“Give me the sword,” I said urgently. Freeing a dragon was not the same thing as dueling a desperate tyrant, and I could tell from the way that Maren held the sword that she did not stand a chance in a straight fight. She handed it over without hesitation.

“Deal with the dragon, if you can. Don’t worry about the Aurat—she’s a friend.”

She nodded and beckoned to the dragon kit. The two of them backed away as I turned to face the emperor, holding my sword at the ready.

Rafael stood alone in the middle of the hall. He was backlit by the torches on the wall, and I could barely make out his features. This far away, he looked like a statue cut from my nightmares. In an instant I was a child again, listening to the report of my brother’s death. Watching my mother cut down for no reason other than her existence.

Every night that I had dreamed of revenge was a night that he had spent in excess, feeding his court while the people of Zefed went hungry. Every moment I had spent in preparation had led me here, now. Every day I had promised myself that I would finish this.

We sized each other up. Though he was without his dragon, the odds were not in my favor. He was still stronger than me, and hadn’t recently been imprisoned with little to eat. I had fury on my side, but that wasn’t enough to lift a sword for longer than a few minutes.

I hefted the sword in my hand and readied myself. I could not rush in—I had to save my energy for when it would count. I had to wait for the emperor to come to me.

But I still was not prepared when he charged. I parried the first cut well enough, though the shock of it jarred my arms all the way up to my shoulders, and thrust back. Rafael blocked so hard that I lost my grip—the sword flew out of my hands and across the hall. I scrambled back, ducking as he slashed forward with so much force that the sword caught in the wall molding, buying me precious seconds. I ran and scooped up my sword, just in time to block another ferocious attack. Our swords locked—the emperor punched me in the face with his free hand, sending me reeling backward. I tripped and fell hard, and he was on me in an instant.

I threw up the sword in defense—he struck the blade from my hands and I had nothing.

Someone screamed, and the emperor looked up. Maren stood behind him, a torch clutched in both hands—as I watched, she wielded it like a club, catching Rafael in the head. He shouted in pain, swinging his sword wildly at her, but that moment was enough for me to scramble to my feet. Sword—where was the sword?

There! I sprinted across the hall—but Rafael barreled into me and sent us both to the floor. I grabbed his sword arm and wrenched it back, trying desperately to keep myself safe from his blade. Something cracked as we rolled, and I remembered—the glass in my pocket. Could I reach it? I held my breath as I grabbed the emperor’s collar, pulling him even closer to me. With my free hand I snatched the glass shard from my pocket—and stabbed him through the eye.

Blood spurted into my face. Rafael screamed incoherently, writhing on the floor. I rolled to my feet shaking, and brought my foot down hard on his hand. The sword fell from his grip and clattered away across the floor. Slowly, I picked it up.

A myriad of agonies flashed through me as I watched Rafael struggle to rise—every terror he had inflicted, every loved one he had stolen, every lie he had told to clutch power ever closer. I thought I would feel fury. Instead there was only icy resolve.

I took a deep breath, carefully adjusting my grip on the sword. I walked to the emperor, raising it high. And I brought the blade down, plunging it through the tyrant’s chest.

There was a bloody gurgling sound as his chest expanded, collapsed, then fell still. His remaining eye went vacant.

Rafael, emperor of Zefed, Flame of the West, was dead.