SAN IRIE WAS IN SIGHT WHEN EVERYTHING FELL APART.
Zephyra’s body jolted beneath her as if she’d been shocked. Unlike last time, Elara couldn’t ask her what was happening as she dived out of formation, speeding toward a stretch of beach several yards ahead. The whole way, she shook and trembled and snapped her head from side to side, as if she were having a seizure.
“What’s going on?” Elara shouted.
“The Fury; it’s the Fury,” Signey shouted back, her arms tightening around Elara’s waist. “We need to—You need to—”
Gloved fingers gripped Elara’s chin and turned her head to the side. Signey slammed their mouths together in a kiss so fierce it felt almost like an attack, followed by a second, gentler glide of lips like a whispered apology. An immediate sense of warmth and rightness filled Elara, a sense that went beyond the taste of tea and sugar. Signey’s hands cupped her cheeks and pulled her closer, and Elara tilted her head so that their lips slid together more smoothly. It was a kiss that felt like coming home.
Even with Zephyra’s body roiling beneath them, Elara felt safe. Held in place by Signey’s kind hands.
They smiled into each other’s mouths, and Elara hadn’t felt this level of comfort from a first kiss in her life. She buried her fingers in Signey’s wavy hair and slid her tongue between Signey’s parted lips and let the sounds that Signey made settle in her chest right next to her heart.
A place that Signey had already been for longer than Elara was willing to admit.
Signey’s face was flushed when they parted, her eyes wide, her expression young and open.
And then Elara was free-falling through the air as Signey flung her off the side of Zephyra’s back.
Elara’s scream was swallowed by the frigid ocean that slapped her body with a splash. Cold water filled her eyes, her ears, her mouth, salty and glacial and yet blistering. She’d been mere feet away, but it still felt as if she’d been hit by a rock, and it took her too long to figure out which way to swim so she wouldn’t drown. She emerged into the open air with a gasp, coughing water out of her lungs, rubbing at her burning eyes so that she could see. Her ears slowly popped, and the sound of roaring rushed in above the waves. The Fury had consumed all the dragons they’d brought with them. They raced toward San Irie, already spitting fire in anticipation of the buildings they hoped to set ablaze.
Elara blew out a breath, spraying saltwater everywhere, and then reached for an astral. As soon as Aunt Mahalet’s soul settled in with hers, she made use of her aunt’s athletic skills to swim to shore without tiring. Then she drew on that same magic to run faster than she ever had before.
Her surroundings blurred around her as the magic propelled her forward, faster than a dragon, faster than a drake. Port Sol appeared in only a few steps, and Pearl Bay Palace a few steps after that. But as she slowed, her muscles burning from the exertion and her clothes dry from the wind, she realized that she was still too late.
Zephyra was raining fire down on the boats in the harbor, their masts cracking in half and tipping into the sea. Azeal had landed in the middle of Port Sol’s square, and Elara could hear people screaming as they tried to escape whatever destruction he had wrought. And hovering in the air above the palace was a dragon larger than any Elara had seen before, colorless but for its emerald-green eyes.
The First Dragon.
Oh, Faron. What have you done?
Elara had known her sister for seventeen years. She had watched Faron take her first steps, say her first words, drink her first sip of rum. She didn’t need enhanced senses to know where she was. She knew Faron, all the way down to her soul, and she knew that there was only one place she had to be right now.
She ran for Pearl Bay Palace.
Only a few yards separated her from the front steps when she saw the first body. A charred husk was strewn across the path like a warning, and several more followed when she gave that one a wide berth. Elara’s stomach dropped further and further with every corpse until she stopped running toward what would clearly be her death and instead redirected the energy of her aunt’s soul into two swords made of pure light. She kept one wary eye on the dragon, but if the First Dragon had noticed her, then he clearly didn’t consider her a threat.
That would be his mistake.
Elara jumped as the palace doors slammed open, but there was no enemy. It was Faron; it was Faron, racing down the stairs toward her. She barely had time to dismiss the swords before her sister was in her arms, clinging to Elara as tightly as Elara held on to her.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Faron cried into her neck. “I’m so, so sorry, I messed up, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, I’m here, it’s okay,” Elara murmured back, squeezing Faron that much tighter. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know. You didn’t know.”
Faron sobbed out her version of the events, from training with Gael Soto to cracking open the door to the Empty, from the First Dragon—Lightbringer—destroying Valor to the Queenshields’ deaths, from losing her connection to the gods to losing Reeve.
Reeve was… gone? Disappeared? Reeve?
No.
Not Reeve.
They didn’t have time to deal with any of that. Carefully, she extracted herself from Faron’s arms and reached up to brush the tears from her sister’s cheeks. She gave Faron a quick recap of everything that had happened since the night in the boathouse: every secret she’d kept, every mistake she’d made, every treacherous word out of the Warwicks’ mouths, until her sister’s tears had stopped flowing and her face was reddening with anger instead.
“We can fix this, okay?” Elara promised. “But right now, dragons are attacking the island, and the queen is heading this way on Nobility. We need to clear a safe path for her to land.”
“I can do that,” said Faron. “I can at least do that.”
Faron closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. When her eyes reopened, they were glowing a strange amber color. Elara opened her mouth to ask what she was doing, but Faron lifted a hand toward the bay where Zephyra was still setting fire to boats, and Zephyra froze. Her flames sputtered to a stop, her body hovering in midair. Her head twisted from side to side, and then she flew toward them. Elara drew her conjured swords just in case, but Zephyra landed a few feet away without trying to attack. She lowered her body so Signey could slide down and then lowered it even farther until she was lying on the ground, as docile as a pet.
“Elara!” Signey said, checking her over for injury as soon as she was close enough to touch. “Are you all right? I’m sorry we—”
“Am I all right?” asked Elara. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. What just happened?”
“The power that Gael taught me isn’t all bad.” Though they were no longer bonded, Elara and Signey turned as one to face Faron. Her sister’s smile was small, there and gone in an instant. “More important, I can control it now. I’m not sure if I can do it for all of them, but I… I owe it to everyone to try.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Signey, “but it’s an honor to meet you, Empyrean. Uh, Miss Vincent.”
Faron gave Signey an odd look before gripping Elara’s shoulders. “Listen, I can’t fix this mess. But you can. You need to go to the Port Sol Temple before they burn it down. You need to see if you can reach the gods now that you can summon again. Their power was the only thing that could open Lightbringer’s cage, and I think they’re the only ones who can still end this.”
Elara hesitated. “I can’t leave you here alone.”
“I’ll stay with her,” said Signey. “Zephyra will, too. If we start to slip back into the Fury, she can pull us out. And my combat scores were just below yours, so she’s in good hands.”
There were a number of dead bodies at Rosetree Manor to prove her point, so Elara didn’t argue even though Faron was eyeing Signey suspiciously. Elara pressed a kiss to Signey’s cheek, and it warmed under her lips. She tried not to linger on how cute that was, turning to face her sister’s shock head-on.
“Take care of each other, okay?” Elara said. “I want this girl to live long enough for me to take her on a date.”
“Right,” Faron said.
“And my sister is the most important thing in the world to me,” she told Signey, “so if anything happens to her, that date is canceled.”
“Understood,” Signey said, though she couldn’t quite tamp down her shy smile.
Elara lingered, trying to memorize their faces. Faron’s swinging braids and dark eyes and stained day dress. Signey’s arched eyebrows and pointed nose and smooth skin. Even Zephyra’s forest-green scales, massive gold eyes, and sharp talons. Three of the beings she loved most in the world, uniting in her honor. She wouldn’t let them down.
With a final nod, she called on her aunt’s power one last time to get her to Port Sol Temple.