The Dragon (Creasan #2)

It wasn’t easy for Ana to watch the despair that took over the crew as two of their friends’ bodies lied unmoving, one of which was their healer. She wished there was something she could do to help. She felt pathetic enough, having hidden throughout the entire ordeal.

The blackness on Izzy’s arm was spreading up her shoulder and down to her hand. Janshai and Merek knelt over her with equal expressions of concern. The prince glanced over his shoulder as Carac shouted, “Someone do something! Perry isn’t breathing!”

Fendrel left Isolde and the men to crawl to Carac. “Let me try.” He plugged Peronell’s nose and blew into his mouth.

Maerwynn dropped down beside Isolde. “Her flesh is dying.”

“How do we stop it?” demanded Merek.

“We have to get rid of the venom.” Janshai ripped off the rest of Isolde’s sleeve. “Merek, you’re going to help me.”

“What are we doing?”

Maerwynn shook her head. “It’s too far along. You won’t be able to—“

“I can help, too.” Thea shoved her wet braid over her shoulder as she made her way over to them.

“Typically,” Maerwynn said, speaking quickly, “you’d have to suck the poison out. But it’s already spreading, and I don’t think—“

Merek didn’t even wait for her to finish; he bent over Isolde’s arm, locked his lips around the bite, and sucked.

Meanwhile, Fendrel blew another breath into Peronell’s mouth and started compressions on his chest. He did it over and over. As he pushed on Peronell’s chest again, he glanced up at Carac. “It’s not working, Carac.”

“Keep trying!” Carac clung to Peronell.

But Ana could see that Fendrel’s arms were getting tired. So she hiked up her skirts and knelt beside him. “Let me do it.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know—“

“Yes, I do.” She brushed him aside and continued compressions.

Merek spit out the venom and Janshai immediately replaced him. Then Thea. One by one, they drew poison out of Isolde and spit it out. The black was receding, but at an alarmingly slow rate, even with all three of them working.

Ana had just blown another breath into Peronell when a bubble of water spewed out of him, and Peronell started coughing. Instantly, she turned him on his side and allowed him to vomit up the water.

Carac’s hands trembled as he reached for Peronell and hugged him close. “Oh, Aestus!” he cried, burying his face in Perry’s chest. “Oh, thank Aestus!”

Peronell didn’t have the strength to move his arms, but the relief in his face mirrored Carac’s.

Fendrel gazed at Ana in disbelief. “When did you learn to do that?”

She smiled sadly. “Althalos fell in a pond once. A Guard saved him, and I forced him to teach me how to do that in case it ever happened again.”

“Well, thank Aestus you did.” Fendrel put a hand on her back and smiled widely, the sort of smile that seems to emanate from one’s soul when a catastrophe is just barely avoided. And she would be lying if she said it didn’t fill her with pride.

Thea spit out a mouthful of venom, her face twisted in disgust and her lips stained black. “Mama, Brom, help us,” she begged, turning to where they stood behind her.

But Brom just shook his head and pointed at Isolde. “Look, Thea.”

They all did. The black, which had withdrawn for just a moment, was beginning to crawl back up her arm, reaching its veiny fingers toward her chest.

Thea stared at it as Merek took in another mouthful of venom, her heart sinking. Her mother was right. It was too late. Thea took Isolde’s hand in hers and hung her head.

As Merek spit, he glanced at Thea and fury spread through him. “Don’t you dare,” he warned.

Janshai paused and looked at Thea. Then he looked at Maerwynn and Brom, then back down to Isolde. He covered his mouth as tears pricked his eyes.

“Merek…” Thea said, her voice breaking.

He took in all their faces and shook his head. “No.” And then he suctioned his lips to the bite again.

“It’s reached her heart,” Janshai choked.

Merek spit and then went in again.

“Mate, she’s gone,” Fendrel said, laying a hand on Merek’s shoulder.

“No,” he said again.

Maerwynn tried, “There isn’t—“

“She jumped in front of me!” Merek burst. “I should be dead, not her. I’m not stopping.” And then he bent his head again.

Thea leaned forward to try again, but Brom put a hand on her arm. “Some privacy, I think.”

She nodded and rose. Janshai rose with her, and she put an arm around him as he cried. Carac and Peronell hugged each other and stared at Isolde’s body. Because that was all she seemed to be now: a body. Her lips are turned a dangerous shade of white and the black had spread over her chest to her other arm. Fendrel lowered his head and even Ana felt a sense of sorrow. She hadn’t known the girl well, but she’d died doing something noble. The noble were always the hardest to bury.

Thea took in everyone’s faces, feeling her own devastation building up in her chest, and said, “Sleep. We can discuss next steps tomorrow.”

They exchanged nods and headed below deck.

Merek remained. His mouth felt like dust, the skin of his lips burned and pulsed, and the freezing cold of the ocean wind stole feeling from his limbs.

But he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. The thought seemed impossible.

His movements had become mechanical. It was like his mind was no longer present as his body tried desperately to save her.

How could she have been so stupid! He had begged her for distance, and then at the worst possible moment, she had refused to listen to him. And now she was lying in his arms with venom coursing through her veins, when it should have been him.

He felt so much emotion festering inside of him that he thought he was going to explode. Such intense love and fear and woe, all for the small woman on the floor.

He cursed Aestus for sending them on this journey, for being the reason Isolde was - No, he wouldn’t say dead because she wasn’t dead. As long as Merek stayed on the deck, removing the toxins from her body, she wasn’t dead. She was just wounded in battle. And Merek could fix a wound.

Merek wasn’t sure when his tears had started falling but he saw them plop onto Isolde’s cheek and shoulder. He shook his head and sucked in more venom.

When his lips had gone numb and his body refused to keep going, he sat back on his heels and stared down at her.

Even pale and cold, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He wished he could have told her all the things he’d felt for her, all the things he’d been too scared to voice even to himself for fear of their intensity.

She had saved his life. And for what? He didn’t think he could care about anything if she was dead. He might as well swim back to Creasan for all the mission meant to him now.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead on her chest as the sobs came in earnest. It was his fault she’d died. If he’d just seen the bloody snake, she would be with him now, pretending not to look at him across the fire or smiling with Thea or twirling her sword. It was his fault all of it had ended.

As Merek leaned back again, his eyes caught on something and he froze. The black veins of poison hovered above Isolde’s sternum, even though Merek was sure they’d spread all the way to her other arm. His eyes moved to the bite on her arm, and it was pulsing, the black liquid oozing out.

But if it was pulsing…

Merek pressed his ear to Isolde’s chest and heard the most glorious sound he’d ever heard: her heart was beating. His breaths started coming out in gasps and he put his lips back to her arm, forcing himself to keep going.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, but it was long enough for his legs to cramp and the sun’s rays to start reaching across the sky. He drew another enormous mouthful and spat it hard onto the floor.

Her skin was no longer black but her wonderful healthy hue. Her chest rose and fell easily like she was simply sleeping. Her eyes moved beneath her lids, and Merek coughed out a laugh. She was alive!

He hooked his hands beneath her arms and drew her into a sitting position. And then he wrapped his arms around her stomach and hugged her closely to him. His tears dampened her cheek and he pressed a kiss to her neck, leaving a black smudge. His lids drifted closed and he let out a heavy breath, and he just held her. It was like his arms had locked into place and he couldn’t move. She was in his arms, and she was warm, and she was breathing.

And she was alive.

Brom was the first person Thea met when she awoke the next morning, and she thanked Aestus for it. After losing one of her best friends last night, she could use his reserved and gentle demeanor.

He was at the back of the boat, his arms crossed on top of the banister and looking out at the calm ocean. There was no trace of the violence or terror that had inflicted them last night; the waves rolled calmly along and the sun shone brightly through the clouds.

Thea copied Brom’s pose and looked out with him. The emptiness she had felt after seeing her father had returned tenfold after watching Isolde die. She hadn’t realized the blessing Aestus had given her by allowing both her brother and father to be killed out of her sight, because this had been so much worse.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Not great,” she responded.

He nodded. “She was a wonderful person.”

“Yes, she was.” Thea’s voice choked as she spoke.

“I saw my sister die,” he said.

Thea’s brows rose but she didn’t take her eyes from the ocean.

“She was ill,” he explained. “Caught a fever, which turned to boils, which turned back to fever. And then she died.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He lowered his head to look at his hands. “She’s the reason I joined The Guard.”

At that, Thea did turn to look at him. She hadn’t expected that. “Really?”

“I was very close to Phan. When she died…and seeing it…I had to do something to keep busy. Friend of mine suggested The Guard, told me how my family would be looked after, so I joined up.”

“Wow.” It felt like a similar story to Thea’s, though it was the murder of her brother that had sparked her need for violence.

“Yeah.” He swallowed and glanced at her with a small smile. “Don’t think I’ll ever be over that.”

She returned his small smile. “Don’t think we’re meant to be.”

He chuckled.

Thea let out a sigh and turned. “Come. Mama said she wanted to speak to us about the map.”

He nodded and followed.

When they came round to the steps, Thea spotted Merek still kneeling on the deck with Isolde in his arms. He was rocking her gently, and even from this distance Thea could see his lips had gone blue with cold.

Her shoulders drooped as a weight settled over her. “I’ll be right back,” she told Brom and then she headed for Merek.

His eyes were closed and his lips moved as he mumbled to himself.

She crouched beside him and spoke delicately. “Hey, Merek.”

His eyes popped open and his teeth chattered as he exclaimed, “Thea!”

“Why don’t we get you inside now—“

“She’s alive!”

Thea squeezed her eyes shut. Desperation and denial she could take, delusion she could not. “No, Merek, she’s not.”

“Yes,” he insisted, “she is. Look!”

But she couldn’t look. She couldn’t see the pale and still face of her friend. “Please, Merek, let me get you a blanket—“

He grabbed her hand and forced it to Isolde’s chest. “Look.”

Thea was about to snatch her hand back—but then she felt a thump. She froze and met Merek’s eyes. He nodded excitedly, and Thea pressed her hand more firmly to her chest. The black was completely gone from her skin and her heart pumped strongly in her chest. “Oh, my Aestus,” Thea breathed. “She’s alive.”

Merek laughed. “She’s alive!”

Thea stared for another beat before she went into commander mode. She stood. “Get her inside. We need blankets. Has she woken up?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Brom!”

Brom was already watching them with his lips parted, but he came to attention when she called his name.

“Get Janshai. And my mother.”

Althalos’s dirt encrusted nails dug into the filthy ground to find another pebble. When he did, he chucked it at the wall in front of him, taking mild satisfaction in the resigned ping it made. It fell to the ground with the rest of his pebbles, and Althalos dug his fingers into the ground again and repeated the action.

“Would you stop that?” the man’s voice called. “It’s driving me mad.”

Althalos chuckled. “You’re already mad.”

“Don’t listen to him,” he said to the person in his head. “He’s just jealous.”

“Jealous that you’ve lost your mind? Not likely.”

“Jealous that I can see the queen and you can’t.”

Althalos froze, hand poised by his shoulder to throw another pebble. “Why are you seeing the queen?”

The man addressed his imagination again. “Should we tell him?” There was a pause and then the man called to Althalos, “She doesn’t think it’s appropriate.”

The scariest part of that conversation was that was something his mother would have actually said. “I, uh, won’t tell her you told me,” Althalos promised, feeling ridiculous even as he did.

“She’ll hear us anyway.”

“No.” Althalos licked his lips and sat up straighter. This was the most interesting thing to have happened since he’d been thrown in the dungeon and he couldn’t handle anymore boredom. “She’s left. I saw her.”

The man paused. When he next spoke, his voice trembled with barely restrained hope, and Althalos thought he could hear tears in his words. “You saw her?”

“I…uh, yes.”

He blew out a breath and laughed with happy bewilderment. “How does she look?”

“She looks…good?” Althalos cringed. He had no idea what he was meant to say, and he couldn’t help feeling a bit awkward, as if he had actually walked in on this man and his mother. Which, of course, was absurd. “Um, she’s wearing a pretty dress and, uh, her hair is in a nice bun.”

The man chuckled. “Always with that bun. I much preferred it when her hair was down. She looked…more at ease.”

Althalos narrowed his eyes at the man’s cell where he could just see his hand reaching out in front of him, as if he were caressing something. Even though the queen was clearly not there, Althalos felt the stirrings of protectiveness in him. “How did you know my mother?” he demanded.

The man’s arm dropped to the ground sadly and he sighed. “I was in love with her.”

The prince blinked.

“She was…is…was…the most intelligent, fiercest woman I’d ever met.”

“My mother?” Althalos had often heard his mother referred to as sweet or pretty or gentle. Never had anyone called her intelligent or fierce. Not even Ulric, and Ulric had been close friends with his mother.

“Oh, yes,” the man insisted. “Of course, she never voiced it out loud, but it was the eyes. The eyes, Young Highness, are the most important feature of any person. You can know everything about someone if you are willing to look into their eyes long enough. And I did. I stared into her eyes and I saw a queen. I don’t mean one meant as a decoration on a king’s arm, I mean a real queen. One meant for ruling. It was hidden so well, I often wondered if she knew it at all herself. She said I was absurd when I told her, but ah, Young Highness, if you could have known her when I knew her…” The man trailed off dreamily.

Althalos leaned back against the wall and felt his eyes prick with tears. His hackles had been up, but the clear adoration in the man’s voice brought Althalos back down. He had truly loved his mother. He wished he could promise the man that he’d see her again but…Althalos’ mind stumbled at the thought of her death. At least to this man, she was still alive. If that was what was keeping him going, Althalos could allow that delusion.

Maerwynn took one look at Isolde lying on the bed and covered her mouth with a gasp, her eyes going wide with horror.

Thea immediately asked, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“She survived,” Maerwynn whispered.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Carac reached for Isolde, feeling her pulse in her throat.

Janshai cleared his throat thickly from where he sat at the foot of her bed. “The Leitham Serpent’s venom never leaves the body.”

Merek stood beside Janshai with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a tin cup of steaming tea in his hands. He frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand. Her skin is no longer black. I sucked the poison—”

“You sucked enough out to stop it from killing her,” Janshai corrected. “But you didn’t catch all of it.”

Fendrel turned to Maerwynn. “What does this mean?”

“Exactly as it sounds.” Maerwynn put a comforting hand on Merek’s shoulder. “We saw the venom reach her heart, but Merek prevented it from entirely stopping. Which means the venom is in her blood.” She let out a sad sigh. “The Leitham Serpent is part of her.”

“Is she going to die?” Thea clarified.

“Only a few people have ever been bit by the snake and lived to tell about it.” Janshai rested his hand on Isolde’s leg and gazed at her sorrowfully. He recited, “Battle the serpent and survive the bite, take yourself the serpent’s plight.”

With panic in his voice, Merek demanded, “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It’s hard to say,” Maerwynn answered. “The transformation is different for everyone. We will have to wait for her to wake—“

“Transformation?!” Merek glared at Janshai and Maerwynn with eyes of building anger and fear. “I don’t want another bloody rhyme. Someone tell me—“

“She has become serpent,” Ana cut him off.

The whole room turned to look at her in surprise.

She amended, “At least in part.”

Merek shook his head and looked back down at Isolde.

She looked like something out of a fairy tale, with her pale skin, soundly sleeping face, hands folded calmly over her stomach. She seemed utterly at peace. There was no clue that anything was amiss.

Janshai offered Merek a kind smile. “You can stay with her if you like?”

He blinked at that.

Everyone stared at them. If Merek had hoped to hide his affections for Isolde, he’d clearly done a terrible job of it. But the least he could do—now that Isolde was alive—was allow her fiancée, the man whom she’d chosen, to be the first face she saw when she awoke.

But it was Thea who answered Janshai. “Merek needs to sleep, and Janshai will be needed on deck.”

Ana offered, “I can stay with her.”

“No,” Janshai and Merek answered at the same time.

Carac said, “I trust her. She saved Perry’s life.”

If Perry wasn’t resting in his room, he no doubt would have agreed with Carac.

Fendrel nodded. “It makes the most sense.”

Merek threw off his blanket and stalked out of the room. They took that as his acquiescence. Janshai smiled softly at Ana. “Thank you,” he said.

She returned his smile and sat in a chair beside the bed.

Thea also gave her a grateful look. She hated that she had to leave her friend in such a vulnerable position, but Ana had helped them save Peronell. She would watch out for Izzy.

Maerwynn warned, “If anything happens, get one of us immediately.”

“Of course.”

Maerwynn stared at her a beat longer before she was satisfied. Then she turned for the door. “Come,” she instructed to no one in particular, but it didn’t matter. Everyone except Ana filed out of the room after her.

Thea stood beside her mother and studied the map on the table. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, but she hardly knew what any of the markings meant. As far as she could tell, it showed one large expanse of water that stretched between the island of Creasan and the shores of Qamizeh. Curved lines demonstrated what Thea assumed were currents, but other than that, Thea couldn’t really understand the jargon her mother had used.

Thankfully, Janshai translated, “We veered off course during the storm. By a lot. This was our route.” He dragged his finger along the map in a straight line from the palace to the shore town of Tamilem. “That was to take us about a week.”

“Okay…” Fendrel said. “And where are we now?”

Janshai and Maerwynn exchanged a look. Maerwynn answered, “We don’t know.”

“How could you not know?” Thea demanded.

“Look around.” Maerwynn gestured to the open ocean. “There aren’t exactly a large assortment of landmarks to pick out.”

“We’re lost?” Carac asked.

“Based on wind speeds and the amount of waves that hit us,” Maerwynn said, “I would guess we’re somewhere…here.” She rested her finger on a random spot on the sea that was on trajectory far to the left of Tamilem.

“But we have no real way of knowing if that’s right,” Janshai said.

“Maybe I could listen for something?” Carac offered. “If I heard something distinctive you could get a better sense of where we are.”

Fendrel said, “That’s not a bad idea.”

Maerwynn shrugged. “You can give it a go.”

Carac moved to the middle of the ship and lowered his chin to his chest, focusing. He tightened the bandana around his eyes and then clenched his hands into fists at his sides.

The rest of them held perfectly still as they waited. Thea even held her breath.

His head twitched from one side to the other. Thea could practically see his ears moving on the side of his head as he listened.

Then he lifted his head and turned back to the group.

Unconsciously, Thea took a step forward, praying to Aestus he’d heard some—

“Just water.”

They sighed collectively.

Maerwynn looked at Thea and said, “I think we should start rationing.”

“Mama, it’s only been two days.”

“I agree with your mother,” Janshai jumped in. “We brought enough supplies for two weeks, but we have no idea how long it will actually take us to reach land.”

“It could be a month or more,” Maerwynn said.

“A month?” Fendrel exclaimed.

“It’s unlikely,” Janshai cautioned, “but yes, it is possible.”

Thea opened her mouth to agree. Her friends and her would not lose their lives on a ship in the Leitham Sea. They would not become another sad tale Creasans told their children. They would be legends who went to Qamizeh and made it back home safely to rule Creasan.

But Fendrel beat her to an answer by saying, “Rationing sounds like the safest strategy. Brom, would you let the others know?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Brom bowed and headed below deck.

Thea tried to ignore the way she instinctively bristled at someone else taking the lead. This is what Ana and her had agreed to. Nothing that happened on the journey there mattered, only the person to slay Malum. So she did her best to shake off feelings of aggravation and asked, “We’re still heading south?”

“Yes,” Janshai answered.

“Then we will pray we arrive there before the rationing actually serves its purpose.”

“In the mean time,” Fendrel said, “Maerwynn will continue to steer, Thea will take over for Perry in the crow’s nest until he is well, and Carac and I will handle the ropes.”

Admittedly, it took Thea a lot more self-control to stop herself from reacting to that order. An order from Fendrel to her and her crew.

The hot-headed, fury-driven Thea Wyvern would have leapt across the steering wheel and sunk her fist into Fendrel’s face. And she would have taken great relish in doing so.

But this was the numb, strategic Thea Wyvern, so she allowed the image in her head to be enough. She clenched her fists tightly, digging her nails into her palms, and kept her mouth shut. Even when she felt Maerwynn’s disappointed eyes on her.

Carac tried to ignore the sudden tension that had spread throughout Thea as he good-naturedly said, “Let’s hope that was the last storm we’ve seen.” He chuckled slightly, though no one was really laughing.

Because they knew that wouldn’t be the last storm. Thea glanced down at the map again. The route Maerwynn believed them to be on was heading toward drawings of rocks and clouds. She didn’t know what those really signaled, but she knew enough to know the current calm of the waves was only temporary.

Fendrel had tied the ropes into place, but now that that was done, he just stood there, staring out into the ocean, like he had done countless times already. He hadn’t thought he could get sick of the beauty of the sea, but he now found the monotony of it growing old very quickly.

He glanced up at the crow’s nest where he could see Thea’s legs dangling over the edge. She’d left the group with an almost unnoticeable huff - though Fendrel had been waiting for it - and gone quickly to her post. Even though they had agreed it was Fendrel who ought to rule Creasan, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he hadn’t really made the decision to ration. It felt more as if she had allowed him to make such a decision.

Fendrel knew, better than anyone, that if Thea hadn’t wanted him to speak up, she would’ve made sure the entire crew knew. She would have shouted over him, would have brandished a sword or perhaps only her fists; she was a killing machine all on her own.

And yet she had stood silent, letting him command her crew and even herself. Like they had agreed.

But there was something about the move that had felt…artificial. He didn’t know if he was growing paranoid or if he knew her well enough to know Thea Wyvern would never cede her crew to a different leader.

Up in the crow’s nest, Thea leaned forward and pressed her face to the slats encircling the nest. Fendrel was struck by the expression he saw there, different from the conniving one he was looking for.

Thea held a look of such utter despair, it nearly knocked Fendrel back a step. There were no tears in her eyes, but there didn’t need to be for him to be able to see the intense sadness in the furrow of her brow, the frown of her lips, the hollowness of her cheeks.

Had she eaten since they’d come aboard? He couldn’t recall. But looking at her now, it looked as if it had been several days since her last meal.

Fendrel liked to think it was merely compassion for his crew that sent him up to the crow’s nest with a plate of food. A good ruler took care of his people, and that was precisely what Fendrel was doing.

Thea didn’t move as he sat down beside her and let his legs dangle along with hers. Her eyes just looked dead ahead, the small wisps of hair that had escaped her braid waving delicately in the breeze. Fendrel used to believe there wasn’t a single delicate thing about her, but watching her look out at the ocean with such blatant sadness in her eyes, she looked like she could break at any moment.

The prince cleared his throat. “I brought you some food.”

She didn’t look at him. “Didn’t you just order rationing?”

“I know you haven’t been eating.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “I’m fine, prince.”

“You need to keep your strength up. If we’re attacked by another serpent—“

“There is only one Leitham Serpent. I asked Janshai.”

“But it’s not the only beast in the sea, and you know it.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He grabbed her hands and forced them to take the plate. She glanced at him then, eyes unamused and tired. He ordered, “Eat.”

She narrowed her eyes and took the plate roughly, nearly sending the piece of chicken flying off. Then she took a big bite out of the chicken leg and smiled, the bits of chicken almost falling out of her mouth. “Happy?” she mumbled past the food.

Fendrel smirked and turned his attention forward. The view of the sea seemed much nicer from up there; he could see everything, and the water felt further away, though he knew that was ridiculous. The water surrounded them no matter how high up they were. Still, the clouds painted a beautiful border around the picture of the waves, and as Fendrel reclined back on his hands, the rocking of the boat gave him peace—

“Oh, are you staying, then?” Thea asked pointedly, taking another bite of the chicken and shattering any peace Fendrel had just managed to find.

He tried to respond calmly, “I thought I might.”

“You don’t have anything to do?”

“Not really.”

She snorted. “Some king you’ll make.”

His nostrils flared and his anger started to rise. But his voice came out stiffly as he kept a tight grip on his control. “I thought I’d keep you company.”

“Why? Hoping to—“

“You looked sad.” He turned to her again.

Whatever words were about to come out of Thea’s mouth died on her tongue. She swallowed hard and set down the chicken wing.

Fendrel thought he’d feel smug at making her fall speechless - most of their journey to The Forbidden Mountain, he had tried to outdo her. But when her shoulders dropped and her head lowered, Fendrel was struck with an image he’d once seen on the battlefield: After success had been achieved and his enemies vanquished, he’d looked up and found his enemy’s flag pole splintered in the middle. The flag had wilted forward, nearly brushing the ground, and Fendrel had felt such a deep sense of regret and sorrow at the sight. The identity of a people, crushed and forced to the ground.

Thea looked a lot like that in that instant, a wilting identity. Fendrel felt his own shoulders lower under the weight of it. “I saw you from down there,” he continued, “and it looked like you…I don’t know, like you could use a friend?”

She chuckled softly. “We’re friends now, are we?”

“I’d like to think so.”

Thea gave him a droll look. “You hate me.”

“And you hate me.”

“Then how could we be friends?”

“I never said it was a healthy friendship.”

She chuckled again but this time it felt more genuine.

“You’re smiling,” Fendrel remarked, the words escaping him before he could stop them.

“Oh, please,” she said, going back to her food, “you’ve seen me smile before.”

“But not because of me.” What was he doing? He had accomplished what he had come to do, and this was the part where they screamed at each other and he walked away in a furious march. And yet he was sitting there, staring at her as she ate and not feeling the least bit repulsed as bits of food fell out of her mouth in her hurry to eat.

“I’ve laughed at you plenty of times,” she answered, her lips tipping up at the corner.

“That I know,” he said, forcing himself to look at the ocean and not her. He had begun to stare, which was just strange. It must be the water; maybe he was getting seasick.

She laughed. 
 And Fendrel couldn’t help but grin. He had never experienced this Thea before. He’d seen her from a distance, of course. But he’d always been kept at arm’s length, even after he’d jumped in front of that dagger. This Thea was very different. This was…nice.

Her smile faded. She stared down at her plate and started haltingly, “I, um…” She cleared her throat. “I know I’m not easy. I can be…a bit much. Lief used to tell me that all the time.” She looked up at him and said earnestly, “But I don’t mean to be.”

Thea used to say Fendrel had tranquil blue eyes. She used to mock him with the sentiment. He had never understood what that meant, really. Had never been able to see the tranquility in his gaze that she had seen. Hadn’t known how to look for it. But just then, it suddenly made perfect sense as he gazed into her brown eyes. He saw the storm that raged within them. Could practically hear the thunder boom, as loudly as the storm last night. He could see the cyclones gathering, the rain pouring. It seemed frightening but also…freeing. The sort of storm one might join if one wanted to lose oneself.

Fendrel blinked hard and broke eye contact. He had to get down from there immediately. “With Thea Wyvern’s apology fresh in my mind,” he said, “I think I should get back to my post.” He pushed himself to his feet.

“I did not apologize!” She pointed the chicken wing - which was only bone now - at him accusingly.

“That’s not what I’m going to tell everyone.” He grinned before grabbing hold of the rungs that led back to the deck.

“Wait, Fendrel.”

He paused.

She held up the plate. “Thank you.”

He smiled in reply and headed back down before she could hear the quickened beating in his chest.

Peronell sat up in bed, putting a hand to his head as the world momentarily spun. His throat felt raw and his body felt exhausted. He tried to swallow and groaned.

“Be careful.”

Peronell jumped at the voice in his room but it was only Carac sitting on a chair at the foot of his bed. “Aestus, you scared me,” he breathed.

Carac grinned crookedly and reached for his hand. “Sorry. How are you feeling?”

He patted his hand reassuringly even though his voice was hoarse as he answered, “I’m fine.” Then the events of last night returned to him and he bowed his head. “Have they already held Izzy’s funeral?”

“Izzy…”

Peronell’s brows furrowed and he stared at Carac. Carac swallowed hard, and Perry knew that his eyes would have been shifting nervously as he said, “Izzy is alive.”

Dubious relief flooded him and he gasped, “What? But I thought—“

“Merek saved her. Sort of.”

“What do you mean ‘sort of’?”

“Maerwynn and Janshai said she’s going to transform or something. She’s part-serpent now.”

Peronell’s eyes flew wide. Of all the explanations he had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. “Does she look like a snake?”

“From what others have said, no. She looks the same. Maerwynn says we’ll know how it’s manifested when she wakes.”

He mentally cursed himself for asking such a stupid question of Carac. Of course he didn’t know what she looked like. He had been very conscious of Carac’s blindness, but his mind was still groggy and he forgot—

“It’s all right, Perry.” Carac smiled tenderly and put a hand to Perry’s cheek.

He shouldn’t be surprised that he’d managed to figure out what he was thinking; his hearing had become so good, he could probably hear his thoughts.

But then Peronell recognized a trembling in Carac’s hand and he frowned, taking his hand from his cheek and clasping it in his own. “What’s wrong, Carac?”

“Nothing, I just…” His throat worked and he turned his head away. “I nearly lost you last night.”

He felt his heart sink as Carac’s chin quivered. Worse than accidentally mentioning Carac’s blindness was watching him try to cry and having no way to do it. Peronell imagined the pressure would simply build inside of him without any way of releasing, and he hated if he was the cause of such torment. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know what we signed up for,” he said, “but I don’t know what I’d do if you…if you died.”

“Hey.” Peronell took Carac by the chin and guided his face back to him. “I’m not going to die.”

“We’re going to fight a dragon, Perry. And not just any dragon. Malum. The epitome of darkness and evil. We could both—“

“We won’t,” he stated. “Okay? We will protect each other.”

“I know, I know—“

He cupped his cheeks. “Carac. Listen to me. We will be fine. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. You survived a bloody mirka attack, for Aestus’ sake. Nothing is going to happen. Do you understand me?”

Carac nodded shakily. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He pulled him into a hug and squeezed him tightly. He pressed his cheek against Carac’s hair and breathed him in.

It was confirmation that Carac couldn’t hear his thoughts. Peronell was telling the truth when he said Carac would be all right, but he was lying when he vowed to make it home too. Peronell had exactly one thing to live for and he was in his arms. Peronell would happily throw himself into Malum’s mouth if it would mean Carac would live instead.

***

The dragon stood in the water with his eyes closed, listening to the movement of the waves. The waves would bring him news of his team of assassins, but he had to settle his mind enough to hear the words in the whispers of the waves.

He blew out a deep breath and relaxed into the water, relishing the way it cooled the furnace of his scales. He let his head bob gently on the surface and gave himself to the whims of the sea.

Then he heard it, like the words spoken of someone far away:

“We veered off course during the storm…We’re lost…It could be a month or more…”

The dragon’s lips curled as the whispers faded away. He growled as he rose back to his full height. They were lost. Who knew what his brother would accomplish in a month. That might be enough time for him to reach Creasan and take whatever vengeance he sought before they ever reached Qamizeh.

Steam spilled from his nostrils and stretched his wings out around him. That simply wouldn’t do, he thought, before launching himself into the sky.