CHAPTER FORTY

FARON

FARON FOUND IYA IN THE THRONE ROOM THIS TIME, SITTING IN THE queen’s chair.

It was carved to look as if he were cradled by fire, scarlet and gold wound together into arcs of flame that stretched toward the sky. But Iya sat on the throne as if it were nothing more than a fancy stool rather than the symbol of a nation. He had one leg thrown over an arm, his chin propped up on one hand so he could watch her lazily as she approached. At some point, he had partially shed his military jacket. A white button-down was revealed while the jacket sat across his shoulders like a cape of shadows.

“I remember it, you know,” he said idly. “The time when I was like you. Chosen. Gifted. Beloved. I was a Knight of the Empire, yes, but I prayed for the power to stop the dragon terrorizing my home. And, like you, the gods answered my prayers. I became the first Empyrean.”

Faron stopped in the middle of the room. “What?”

Iya’s mouth tipped into a cruel smile, but the words continued to flow as if he needed someone, needed her, to hear them. “Did they not mention that, either? I was not merely the first dragon Rider, and you were never their first champion. That was me. All I wanted was to protect my home. But Lightbringer showed me the truth the gods had kept hidden from me. I didn’t have to listen to them. They wanted to use me as a tool while keeping me from reaching my true power. Together, Lightbringer and I became Iya. Together, I tasted that power, if only for a while. And now that I’m free, I am so very loath to give it up.”

“Gael,” she said, hoping what was left of that boy could hear her. “Gael, you were a Knight of the Empire. That means you wanted to help people, right? But look at you now. All you’ve ever done with your incredible power is subjugate others. Power like this… It should be used to make the world better.”

“Oh?” Iya shifted in the chair so that both feet were on the floor. “And how have you made the world better since the war ended, Faron?”

“That’s not—” Faron began before the words caught in her throat.

Everyone talks about you like you’re a saint… but all I see is a spoiled, selfish child who wastes all her potential, blaming everyone else for her problems.

We’ve seen this level of arrogance only once before. It is tragic, how much you sound like the Gray Saint.

You brought me into this, and now we’re both trapped.

Her lips trembled. “At least I can admit my mistakes. At least I’ve tried to do good. You’ve only done wrong. You’ve become a monster like the one you were sent to stop, Gael, and now you’re the one who needs to be stopped.”

Iya sat back as if she had disappointed him. “Take your pointless moralizing to someone who wants to listen to it.”

“Reeve would listen,” she whispered, ascending the dais on which the throne was kept. “He loved to know things. He—”

“He’s dead. Why do you keep bringing him up?”

“Because he’s not dead. I felt him there, inside you.” Faron reached out, her hand covering his heart. She felt the hard mound of Reeve’s dragon relic hanging there. Even now, after taking his body and changing his clothes, Iya hadn’t gotten rid of it. “I felt his soul, mixed with yours. He’s not dead. He’s just trapped. Lost, like you. You’re both lost, but I can still see you. Stop all this and let me help you. Please.”

Iya reached up, and wrapped his fingers gently around her wrist. Reeve’s eyes gazed up at her, the blue of the water that she loved so much, and she wondered how she hadn’t seen it before. Her fondness for him pressed against her rib cage, as if her heart longed to jump from her chest to his for safekeeping. With her free hand, she traced the curve of his cheek, trying to will him to take control of his body again. “I know you’re in there,” she sent across the bond. “I know you’re fighting. Come back to me. Come back to us.”

He leaned into her touch, and Faron could almost pretend that she had been heard.

Then Iya’s fingers tightened around her wrist hard enough to bruise. “Reeve Warwick is weak. Gael Soto is weaker. Whatever you hope to achieve, you will fail. And this world will fall to me.”

He shoved her backward. Faron barely managed to catch herself before she fell down the stairs, her heart racing and breaking all at once. She’d been so close, but Iya’s face was cold again as he swept down the stairs.

“This ends now,” she heard as his boots thumped across the throne room floor. Even his voice was icy and dismissive, as if he had reached the limits of his patience with her. “Stay here unless you want to die with them.”

The doors slammed shut behind him with a harsh finality that sounded like another warning. But Faron had never met trouble that she didn’t want to get into. She waited exactly one minute before running after him.

Aveline Renard Castell, the blessed queen of San Irie, was a golden streak across the sky, colliding with Lightbringer again and again.

She had driven the imperial dragon away from Pearl Bay Palace and over the open ocean, and she was doing more to hurt him than the drakes were. Even Signey and Zephyra had joined in, Faron noticed, zipping around Lightbringer’s body in a blur of green, scratching, biting, and blasting flames into his open wounds. Lightbringer was no longer pure white; he was streaked with scorch marks and blood trails.

He was losing.

Iya’s shoulders were a tense line as he strode through the Victory Garden. The dragons had stopped fighting the drakes and were now helping them put out the fires and attack Lightbringer. Port Sol was covered in smoke rather than lit by flames, and Port Sol Temple stood unharmed over it all, glowing with protection magic. Elara had yet to reappear, but the tide of the battle had definitely turned.

Faron threw herself at Iya before he could take another step.

They hit the grass in a tangle of limbs. Iya was a trained soldier, but Faron had caught him by surprise. She also had a lifetime of schoolyard tussles under her belt. She dug her knee into his back, dragging one of his arms around until she heard his shoulder pop. “Do you remember when we met here?” she leaned down to whisper in his ear. “You told me to take control.” Her knee pressed farther into his spine. “You said you were my salvation, but I think the truth is that I’m yours.”

“This is your idea of salvation?” Iya grunted, though he made no move to break her hold. She felt the shiver that ran through his body and reveled in it.

“Lightbringer is going to die if this continues. You don’t have to die with him. Let Reeve go, and I’ll help you.”

“We’ll both die with him.”

“I have a feeling you’ll take that harder than I will. Let. Reeve. Go.”

Iya turned his head just enough to glare at her. “I told you—”

“You’ve told me a lot of things. Not all of them were true.” Faron leaned so close now that her lips brushed his ear with every word. “Listen to what I’m telling you: This world isn’t yours to rule. Do you want to spend the rest of the days of your freedom fighting to retain it, or do you want to taste what freedom really is?”

Faron’s back hit the ground as soon as the last word was out. She hadn’t even seen Iya move, but suddenly he was pinning her down, straddling her legs so she couldn’t kick him off. One hand pinned her arms above her head, tight as shackles. The other gripped her throat but didn’t press. Not yet. “What do you know of freedom? You live under the thumb of your parents, your gods, your queen, your country. You have never been free, Faron. Not until you met me.”

His words whispered through her mind, settling into her blood. His eyes were dark pools as they stared into hers, his face hovering mere inches away.

“You are nothing without me,” he said aloud.

“You’d be nothing without me,” Faron snapped back, light sparking at the corner of her eyes. “And you may be stronger than me, but I still have powers you never will.”

Iya chuckled, his thumb digging against her throat, making it hard to breathe. “Every power you had is one I perfected before you were ever born. Every power you still have is one I taught you. I am everything you could be, Faron, and you are nothing more than the heart I can’t seem to destroy.” Faron choked as the rest of his fingers tightened. “Do not fool yourself into thinking I won’t try.”

“Try this,” said Elara, blasting Iya across the garden with a wave of divine magic.

Faron sucked air back into her lungs with a gasp, rolling onto her feet and stumbling over to her sister. Elara was glowing lightly, her fraying braids waving in a breeze only she could feel, and Faron knew without having to ask that she was channeling a god. She would have recognized that light anywhere, even if she couldn’t tell which god in particular had given Elara’s skin that unnatural glow. She reached up to rub her throat, where she could feel bruises in the shape of Iya’s fingertips already forming, and scanned the garden for any sign of him.

She saw fire before she saw Iya.

He burned through a line of falling trees. Elara and Faron leaped in different directions to avoid them. Faron stopped short as Iya appeared in front of her. Fire danced between his fingers, curved around his hands and up his forearm.

“You were a distraction,” he growled. “How clever.”

“Fuck off,” said Faron, throwing a punch.

He blocked her easily, but she threw another and another. His flames didn’t burn her. Instead, they enclosed her wrists, as well, like a string that tied them together. He caught her fist and yanked her up against his chest before whirling her to face her sister and hooking an arm around her neck.

“I know you won’t hurt her,” he called across the garden. “So how about we settle this like civilized people?”

“You mean like cowards?” Elara asked, landing before them. Her Langlish clothing must have been fireproof, because Faron couldn’t see so much as a scorch mark on her. Faron coughed, choking on the smoke that covered the garden as the fires spread. But no matter how hard she struggled, Iya’s arms were like steel, and she couldn’t break free. “Let her go and release her from her bond with you. Or I’ll lock you up in the Empty where you belong.”

“You’d lock Reeve up in the Empty? Your sister?” Iya scoffed. “Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

Elara stretched out a hand. Her eyes glowed. Faron felt something brush against her feet, but she couldn’t look down to see what it was. Iya’s curse was the only warning she got before they sank inches into the ground. Somewhere above, she heard a dragon screech, a guttural sound that went deeper than pain.

It was fear.

“Let her go now,” Elara repeated, and her voice sounded like it was coming from all sides. “I am the Maiden Empyrean. I walk with the power and the blessings of the gods. I can save my sister and Reeve from the Empty and leave you there. Don’t fool yourself into thinking I can’t.”

“Please,” he said, and he sounded so much like Reeve again that Faron stopped struggling against him. “Don’t lock me in there with him. Don’t trap me in that place again. Please.”

Elara faltered, too. Whatever was dragging them down into the earth stopped, and the glow in Elara’s eyes started to fade. For all her threats, Faron knew her sister. The last thing she wanted was to lock away Faron and Reeve just to stop Iya. It would save San Irie, but it would break her. Faron couldn’t let her make that choice.

She’d ruined so much. She’d hurt so many people, even the one she’d wanted to save. She didn’t want to be that person anymore.

“Leave her alone,” Faron begged. “I know what you’re doing, and you need to stop. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” Iya’s word caressed her ear. “Come with me, then.”

Before she could ask where, a strong gust of wind threw Elara off her feet. Iya and Faron were unaffected, so she wasn’t surprised to look up and see Lightbringer hovering over them. The god who was once a boy released her and jumped, higher than any normal person could, landing easily on the back of his dragon. Then Lightbringer lowered his body just enough for Faron to see that Iya was reaching out a hand for her.

“Come with me.”

Faron’s heart clenched. She didn’t hear Iya, the god of a dying world, in those words. She heard Gael Soto, the knight of the realm whose mind had been broken by the creature he’d tried to kill. She heard Reeve Warwick, the boy who had turned his back on his country to save her own. She heard two teens whose lives had been ruined by power they should never have wielded, and she felt so sad for them that she couldn’t even speak.

“Faron!” Elara was back on her feet and racing toward her. “Faron, get out of the way!”

“Faron.” Above her, Iya’s upturned palm beckoned. “It’s time to go.”

She stood paralyzed, crying softly as Elara ran across the garden. Crying because Elara would not reach them in time. Crying because they would be separated again, and this time, it was her choice.

But San Irie had a new saint, a better saint. Faron had done nothing but cause everyone pain, and now two lives were in her hands. Despite everything that had happened, she and Iya had a bond, and not just the bond between them and Lightbringer. She understood him, and he trusted her. There was only one way to stop an enemy who wore the face of a friend, and locking him away was not the answer.

She looked at that face, at Reeve’s face, and saw the potential of what could have been if she hadn’t been so stubborn, if she’d been more self-aware, if the timing had been right. But she looked in those eyes, Gael’s eyes, and saw a boy who had doomed the world trying to do the right thing. Perhaps he was the only person in the world who understood what she was going through. If she could save them both, maybe she could redeem herself. Lightbringer had to have a weakness. Faron could find it, trick it out.

She’d been a liar longer than she’d been a saint, after all.

Faron jumped, Iya’s hand catching hers before she could fall. He swung her onto the dragon behind him, and then they took off. She made the mistake of finding her sister in the sea of grass and flowers, hoping that Elara would understand why she was doing this. Hoping that Elara would trust her, even though she hadn’t earned it lately.

Instead, all Faron saw on Elara’s face was open heartbreak before the clouds swallowed them up.