Ajax sat and thought about Dog. For a while now the others had been shouting at Ajax, but he barely heard. What did it matter?

Please, just tell me that someone went out to throw a blanket over him. Dog got so cold in the open air at night.

Dashing traitorous tears from his cheeks, Ajax stood and walked to the wall, wishing like hell he had a window. He wanted to see Dog one last time. Dog wouldn’t be able to go back to the aerie now; he couldn’t fly without sight. What if, to put him out of his misery, the guards had already taken their swords and…

No. Ajax shuddered with the thought. His soul would have died with Dog. That’s what the bond between dragon and rider was, right?

Ajax rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes, envisioned the infinity of stars blanketing the sky. Dog would never see the sky again. He’d never fly again. And if Ajax could just tell him…just tell him he shouldn’t have come to protect Ajax’s sorry ass. Dog never thought about himself; that was his biggest problem.

Guess I screwed us up. Ajax imagined saying that as he ghosted his knuckles across the dragon’s snout, right between the nostrils. It was soft as velvet there. Dog would hmph in contentment and wrap his tail around Ajax’s left leg. Dumb dragon.

Idiot dragon. The others are right. You’re stupid! Useless! The words burned in Ajax’s throat. He’d never felt hate like this, a cancer that knit his bones together, snaked through his innards like a parasite. Made him whole. Why Ajax? Why Dog? Why? Why? What’m I supposed to do with a blind-ass dragon? He could just picture Dog listening to the torrent of abuse as he faced Ajax calmly with blind eyes.

By the black depths, such feelings weren’t worthy of an emperor. They weren’t worthy of a shitty child.

Ajax was a feral, nasty thing, all bad angles and ugly teeth. Every day he looked into the mirror and anticipated that great man who was only a growth spurt and spray of stubble away.

But now he imagined hurling abuse at the only thing that—

That…

At twelve, Ajax had been embarrassed when his egg hatched to reveal a misshapen, thoroughly bizarre-looking dragon. He’d kept his eyes down as the runt trailed him through the dingy castle halls, squeaking and gawping and flapping its batlike wings. The Tiber bastards had teased him for it relentlessly. He’d finally tied the dragon up in a burlap sack and hung it from a tree branch, hoping something would come along and swallow the damn thing.

Dog had chewed his way out of the sack and waddled home, chirping and desperate to play.

And when Lysander had beaten Ajax’s ass and left him crying in a corner, Dog had crawled over, plopped himself into Ajax’s lap, and licked the boy’s tears away with those flicking dragon kisses. Dragons couldn’t abide salt water, but Dog had done it to make Ajax smile.

The only being in the castle that cared whether he laughed or cried.

Ajax had always grumbled that they were an uneven match, and he’d been right. He’d been right. Dog was worth two of him.

Misery swelled in his chest, lumped in his throat. Ajax fell to his knees, clasped his hands on either side of his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to a dragon that couldn’t hear him. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over.

“You should be,” someone snapped.

Vespir watched him with volcanic rage. Lucian glowered from across the corridor.

Ajax could barely stand feeling anything, and he wouldn’t let anyone see his pain. He stood and put his back to the wall, gritted his teeth.

“Just go away!” he howled, wrapping his arms around his body, closing himself like a fist.

“I’d love to, but I can’t, because I’m in prison!” she shouted. “You just had to screw us over, didn’t you?”

“At least you won a damn challenge!” He put his face near hers. Granted, Vespir loomed over him by a few inches, so it wasn’t as threatening as he wanted. “You had a shot! I had to take what was mine!”

“The throne isn’t yours!”

“It should be! I want it more than you!” No, he needed it. He needed to occupy a space only he could fill. He wasn’t an extra, a by-blow; no, he was indispensable.

“You brat,” Lucian growled. All this time, he’d kept pacing and watching Emilia—who looked terrifying, incidentally. The helmet gave her the appearance of some nightmare beetle. Ajax had never seen a chaotic chained before.

But first, back to Lucian and his insufferable smugness.

“And you. If you’d picked up the damn sword, your girlfriend wouldn’t be like this right now!” The larger boy gripped the bars. Veins corded in his bull neck; he looked ready to tear the place apart. But of course he didn’t. Lucian shuffled away, like a good boy. Ajax’s lip curled. “Why don’t you just admit it? You’re shit at this peacekeeping thing!”

“Don’t yell at him. This is your fault.” Vespir kicked at him through the bars. “Why did you do it? You can’t possibly be this stupid.” She scoffed. “You should’ve thought about your dragon if nothing else. Who knows what they might do to—”

“Shut up!” he howled. Ajax began kicking and kicking at the cell door, imagined mashing the priests’ faces to pulp. Through the clanging, he heard Lucian tell Vespir what’d happened. His fault. His fault his dragon would never see the stars again. His fault. His.

“Ajax. Ajax.” Vespir sounded calmer now. He stopped kicking, wiped his arm across his eyes. Couldn’t see through the stupid tears. “I’m sorry. They should burn to ash for doing that to Dog.”

Trust Vespir to take a dragon’s side, if nothing else. But he appreciated it.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” Ajax muttered. He wiped his nose on his rough sleeve. “I know I screwed up. You just…” He couldn’t think of what to say. What he felt was enormous, a gigantic monolith he had to describe while blind. “You two…You don’t know what it’s like to be born like me.”

“To be born low?” Vespir drawled.

“To be born bad.” Her silence egged him on. “Those images from the Truth doorway? I mean, before everything got weird. They were pictures from the past, maybe?”

Vespir and Lucian both grunted in understanding.

“I…I never met my mother.” Ajax’s thoughts were scattered, beads from a broken necklace rolling across the ground. “She left right after I was born. And my father, Lord Tiber, well, he’s a prick. A monster. He…Sometimes if he can’t get a woman who wants him, he just…”

Vespir made a soft noise.

“I kept seeing it over and over. On the island, in the halls around here. It was driving me crazy. And he, my father, he must’ve done it to her, because why else would she leave me?” The heavy weight kept pressing on some tender, invisible nerve. “I just wanted to win, you know?” His chin quivered, and his voice broke. “Because then at least what she went through wasn’t pointless. Then at least I’m not just some grimy bastard who’s alive b-because of evil.” The tears fell, and he didn’t try to stop them. His entire body convulsed with his sobs. No one had wanted him. His father had been looking for pleasure, his mother not looking for anything at all. Ajax wanted to coil inside of himself like a snake and disappear. “But now I screwed up, and Dog’s blind, and…” His voice broke. “I’m sorry. I screwed it all up. Please. Please. I’m sorry.”

Ajax couldn’t get any air. He crumpled in on himself, lay on his side shivering on the floor. Alone.

“Ajax.” Lucian did not sound so angry now. Sniffling, Ajax looked up. The larger boy crouched by the door of his cell, a rough gentleness in his eyes. “I didn’t know.”

Vespir knelt alongside the wall nearest to him. She didn’t look quite as forgiving as Lucian, but there was a sort of acceptance in her eyes. At least, Ajax hoped that’s what he saw.

“I think I can help you,” she said.

Ajax wanted to huddle away from the kindness in her voice.

“How? We’re all in the same mess.”

“I think I can help with Dog.” That got him good. Ajax crawled over to her. The girl held up her hand. “I’m not here to judge you, but I’m also not here to make you better, Ajax.” She didn’t sound cruel, only matter-of-fact. “You’re going to have to listen to me.”

Sympathy with no bullshit was exactly what he needed.

“I will.” He tucked his chin to his chest, too ashamed to meet her gaze.

“Come on.” She reached through the bars. “First, your father’s awful, but that doesn’t mean you are. All right?” She squeezed his shoulder, the closest she got to gentle. “Next, Dog is your dragon.” She said it like a prayer. “That kind of bond can’t be bought, and it should never be severed. Right now he’s lost in the darkness, but he might be able to see again. Not with his eyes, though.” She placed her other hand on his forehead. “With yours.”

“How?” he whispered.

She started talking about a Red, and how he could “lock in” with his dragon. The more she talked, the more it sounded like a made-up fantasy you convinced yourself was real when you were drunk, but he was not about to say that. Vespir talked about “letting your eyes go out of focus” and “taking down the wall between you and your dragon.” When she’d finished, Ajax glanced at Lucian, who appeared blank.

“Uh. You ever tried this?” he asked.

“No,” the Sabel boy said.

“I understand it sounds strange, but it does work. I’ve never formed the bond when I’m not with Karina, but maybe you could if you tried. Close your eyes. Imagine reaching out to Dog. Try to touch him.”

“This sounds kind of impossible.” Ajax was not the theoretical sort.

Vespir’s mouth curled downward sharply. “Fine.”

“Wait. I’m sorry.” He reached for her when she pulled away. Damn idiot, chasing her off when she was trying to help. Lucian watched them in silence. Emilia…Ajax wasn’t sure she was even still awake. She hadn’t made a noise since they got here. It was unnerving.

She wouldn’t be like this if it weren’t for me. He winced. Is she really chaotic?

He’d always thought of chaotics as so…frightening. It didn’t fit with the Emilia he knew.

“Don’t apologize. Just try it,” Vespir said, snapping Ajax to attention. Her dark eyes were as serious as anything he’d ever seen. With a sigh, he shut his eyes and imagined…Dog? Dog flapping his wings? Dog panting, his forked tongue lolling out the side of his mouth? Every image Ajax ever conjured of his dragon had Dog doing something ridiculous. He couldn’t help laughing. “Don’t laugh at him.” Vespir whacked his hand. Ouch. “You aren’t his master. You belong to each other.”

Not Dog’s master? But Ajax was clearly the more intelligent partner.

And Dog was clearly the better. Ajax’s stomach sank.

Ajax’s other half. He’d always been annoyed to have such a dragon, one that loved to play and snuggle. Idly, he’d wished Aufidius had been his mount when he’d first seen the Hydra. Who wouldn’t feel imperial with such a beast? But Dog was the love from which he’d shut himself off. Ajax thought of rubbing his knuckles against the dragon’s snout. Curled up beside him in the aerie some nights, Dog’s wing tucked about Ajax and holding him snug and warm against the dragon’s gurgling fire belly. The first time he’d seen Dog take to the air on the end of the handler’s lead, the dragon’s joyous squawking and the flap of his wings.

Freedom. Joy. The two things Dog loved above all, except Ajax.

Ajax somehow could see Dog now, the faint outline of him. The curve of his back, the tiny nibs of horns. A second and the image vanished, but Ajax reached out an invisible hand and touched the creature’s snout. Dog’s eyes were bisected, dried blood coagulating on his jowls like thick, viscous tears. Sorry, boy. Sorry.

And Ajax…felt his dragon. A ripple of something like love shivered down Ajax’s outstretched invisible arm and through his body. He opened his eyes with a gasp.

“I think…I think I felt him.”

“Is he all right?” Vespir sat cross-legged, didn’t seem to find any of this odd.

“He hurts, but he’s alive. He’s scared.” Ajax could have just guessed any of that, and it’d probably be true. But there was something in the way he’d seen Dog—the detail of it, not the basic image Ajax carried in his head. It was as if Dog had perked up as he heard Ajax’s voice. Ajax’s temples throbbed. “Vespir. Thanks.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she said. Not “it’s okay” or “I forgive you.”

They all sat in that quiet, waiting for the guards to come. They waited a long time, but there was nothing angry in their silence now.

If this was the end of the world, it was nice to have friends.