by Jordan Rivet
“Maybe there’s still hope,” Siv said. He looked at Dara, who was shaking her head incredulously at her friend. He had always admired Dara’s stubbornness, and he had learned a thing or two about resolve from her. He wasn’t ready to give up his bid for peace yet, and he had one more plan up his sleeve.
“Tell me,” Vine said when he didn’t elaborate. “Is the Lantern Maker really marching for Kurn Pass?”
“We don’t know,” Dara said. “We only just learned about the Stronghold.”
“Hmm.” Vine tapped a finger on her lips. “My friend Meza, who lived in Rallion City before its destruction, says the Fireworkers have been receiving huge supplies of Fire from the mountain. She doesn’t know where it is being sent, but I fear the Lantern Maker is not done conquering yet. Your bluff about Kurn Pass may not be far from the truth.”
Siv felt Dara’s eyes on him. He could tell what she was thinking, as if every flash of her eyes held a message. She wanted to go. She had unfinished business, and she couldn’t wait around for the clash between the Soolens and Pendarkans. She deserved a chance to face her father alone. Her presence had actually made Siv’s peace talks more difficult. Perhaps it was time for them to part ways for a little while.
But before Dara left, he had to clear up another matter with her. They had unfinished business of their own.
While Vine skipped over to introduce herself to Gidon and Belna, Siv looped his arm through Dara’s and leaned in. He brushed his lips against her ear. A brief whiff of her intoxicating, fiery scent was more than enough to ignite a flame in his core. It was time.
“Walk with me?”
20.
The Waterfall
THEY strolled through the woods arm in arm. Dara hadn’t been this way before, but Siv seemed to know where he was going. He strode with purpose, and his body felt almost feverish as he tugged her alongside him.
She heard the sound of babbling water ahead, mixed with the rustle of the summer breeze and the crunch of their boots. Before long, they rounded a stand of gigantic Cindral trees and came upon a waterfall. The water cascaded over a small cliff and tumbled into a crystal-clear pool at the bottom. She couldn’t sense any Watermight, but the surface glistened as if millions of diamonds were spilling over the edge and into the pool.
Siv halted at the sight of the waterfall. A dark shadow passed over his face, as if it reminded him of something. It was gone in an instant.
“I have to go to my father,” Dara said, turning to face him straight on. “I can’t wait until after the battle.”
“I know.” Siv gave a heavy sigh. “I’m still wrestling down a powerful urge to keep you safe by my side, but I think you’re right.”
“Yeah?”
“I hate that about you, Dara. You’re right way too often.” He grimaced. “I’ll worry about you, though.”
Dara smiled sadly and reached up to touch his face. She wished the conversation with Prince Chadrech had gone better. Siv had such high hopes for peace, and he deserved to see them realized.
“I’ll take Rumy with me,” she said. “His Fire has saved my skin before.”
Siv started to nod, then he froze. His eyes took on a glazed look, as if he was thinking hard about something. A grin began to spread across his face.
“You just had an idea,” Dara said. “I’m not going to like it, am I?”
Siv’s grin widened. “Hear me out. You met the Cindral dragons, right?”
“Yes . . .”
“And Latch told you about how to work with them.”
“I haven’t actually tried it.”
Siv shrugged as if that were inconsequential. “You have to take a Cindral dragon with you when you go,” he said. “Load it up with as much Watermight as it can hold, and make a run for it.”
“That sort of thing takes practice.” The black dragon flashed in Dara’s mind, seemingly of its own accord. She hadn’t succeeded in communicating with it, but she had felt a connection nonetheless. “We don’t have any Watermight, remember?”
“So steal it.” Siv grabbed her hand in both of his, eyes alight. “You can swoop in to the Brach vent during the confusion of the battle, gather up some Watermight, and fly into the sunset.”
“Khrillin won’t agree to your demands if you’ve just stolen from him.” She poked her finger in his chest. “I know you’re still going to try to negotiate with him before the battle.”
“But I’m not stealing anything,” Siv said, not denying the part about trying to negotiate. “I’m not going to know a single thing about your plans.”
“Is that right?”
“Yup. In fact, you and I are going to have a blazing row beforehand. You’ll take off with a dragon, and Chadrech and the Rollendars will think they were right about you all along. They might even feel sorry for me and give me a little more time.”
“But won’t that just confirm what Prince Chadrech said about you putting too much trust in your enemy’s offspring?” Dara said.
“You’re the Lantern Maker’s daughter.” Siv glanced at the waterfall for a fleeting moment. “They think you’re untrustworthy anyway. The best thing you can do to prove them wrong is take out your father before we even get there.”
“You think the others will believe I left because we had a fight?”
“We’ll make it convincing,” Siv said. “It’ll be like your Vine Silltine rivalry all over again. If you like, we can even have a duel!”
“I’m not sure staging an argument is necessary,” Dara said.
“You saw how wary Prince Chadrech was about you,” Siv said earnestly. “It’ll only get worse when I ask him to lend me his army to fight your father.”
Dara’s jaw dropped. “When you . . .”
“That’s what I’m going to try, at any rate,” Siv said. “We flat-out don’t have enough men to make your father take notice.”
“And you think a bunch of Soolens will help you?”
“And Pendarkans and Cindral Folk,” Siv said. “It’s only a matter of time before your father marches straight for us with all his men. I hope you’ll be able to take care of him, but if that doesn’t work, I’ll need more soldiers.”
“You’re talking about rallying an army against your own people,” Dara said faintly. “Vertigonians. They won’t welcome you home if you marshal a foreign army against them.”
“It’s only for show,” Siv said. “Another bluff. I don’t want to fight Vertigonians any more than you do. But they need to have no choice but to surrender to my rule after you remove the Lantern Maker.”
Siv let go of her hands to pace beside the pool beneath the waterfall. The light was fading, giving the scene an eerie, mystical quality. Somehow, it made him look more like a king than ever. He had remained calm and dignified despite Chadrech’s discourtesy, despite all their frustrations. He really had grown up.
“I’ve been gone for too long,” he said. “The Vertigonian army has to see me as a strong ruler, or I won’t even last until we get back to the mountain.”
Dara frowned. She didn’t like the idea, but she had to admit it was starting to make sense.
“Do you think they’ll really try to take over Soole and Pendark if we don’t stop them? My father could be using the Fire resupplies Vine mentioned to solidify his hold in Trure, not conquer new territory.”
“Whatever the truth is, we need everyone to think the great and terrible Fireworkers are descending on them like thunderbirds in a storm. It’ll be worth it for the others to help us with our bluff if it means they won’t have to deal with the Fireworkers in their own territories later. Besides, they’ll end up fighting each other if we don’t give them another enemy to worry about.”
Dara sighed. Siv really did think he could talk his way out of the battle tomorrow. She didn’t see how that could possibly work, but Siv trusted her. She owed him the same.
“And you’re sure we have to stage a fight between us?”
“If I’m going to rally anyone against the Rumi
nor threat, we can’t be seen as a team.” Siv stepped closer to her and brushed her hair gently from her face. Her stomach swooped into her toes. His energy was infectious, and she was starting to feel a little feverish herself.
Siv lowered his voice. “We need to make every man in our army afraid to speak your name around me. When we’re done, they won’t worry that the family I claim to be fighting against is influencing me. Meanwhile, you can go on ahead of us and do what needs to be done. And then . . .”
He trailed off, looking back at the waterfall for a moment. The late-afternoon sun shimmered on the stream, the light dancing like Fire.
“And then what?” Dara prompted. She moved closer, shrinking the gap between them again.
Siv met her eyes and smiled. It was a different smile, a solemn one she had first seen when he started truly becoming the king he was meant to be. A smile that said even though he carried sorrows on his shoulders, he was still himself. He was still good.
“And then,” Siv said, “if you’ll have me, I want to make you my wife.”
“What?”
Siv took her hands and dropped to one knee in the mossy earth. “Marry me, Dara. Be my wife, my partner, my friend. I trust you with my life, and I refuse to consider a future without you.”
Dara didn’t move, didn’t breathe. She had wanted him to say these words for a very long time. She wanted to say yes so badly. But she also knew why they hadn’t done this months ago. If Siv wanted to retake his throne, a marriage between them could never work.
“Siv, you can’t marry your own usurper’s daughter. You can’t use an argument between us to get people to believe you’re serious about defeating my father and then turn around and marry me!”
“I don’t care,” Siv said. “If our marriage means I lose favor with my people, then so be it. I will take back Vertigon and give it to my sisters. I will do whatever it takes to protect my father’s kingdom, but I don’t want it without you.”
“But my father—”
“Is not you,” Siv said firmly. “You’ve protected me with your life more times than I can count. You’ve broken ties with your family and fought by my side. But more than that, you’ve made me indescribably happy.” His hands tightened on hers, his voice becoming hoarse. “So make a new family with me, Dara.”
She stared into his eyes, almost wishing for a torrent of magic to tear through her at that moment. How could he offer her the thing she wanted so desperately, a future with him, when she still feared she wouldn’t be able to do what was necessary with her father? Could she really accept Siv’s proposal with so many problems left unresolved?
But as she looked into his eyes and saw the pure love and trust in them, she realized that yes, yes she could. She had thrown her lot in with Siv long ago. It was simple, really. He was offering her the thing she wanted most in the world. Even if neither of them lived to enjoy it, she would not refuse.
“Yes,” she said at last. “Yes. Yes. It’s all I—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish. The moment the first words left her lips, Siv jumped to his feet and took her in his arms. He kissed her fiercely, desperately, joyfully, and for a moment, Dara didn’t think about anything at all. Incredible stillness filled her to the brim. For one quiet, perfect moment, Siv was the only thing in all the world that was real. And he was hers.
21.
Night of Flame
THEY arrived at midnight on Eventide. Sora hadn’t gone to bed yet. She’d dragged a chair over to her open bedroom window so she could enjoy the summer breeze while she caught up on reports. A full moon rose outside, giving the sky a faint purplish glow.
The wind carried the sounds of the mountain into her chamber. They were peaceful sounds: voices murmuring behind closed doors, men and women laughing as they exited taverns and parlors, bridges creaking, mountain ponies shuffling in their sleep. Many revelers were still engaged in the Eventide tradition of visiting back and forth, exchanging token gifts and well wishes with their friends. Sora had visited half a dozen parlors herself before retiring to the castle to catch up on her work.
The smell was the first hint of something amiss. A whiff of hot metal and ash that was both deep and sharp drifted through the window. Sora scrubbed at her nose, wondering if trouble was brewing at one of the Fireshops, which had mostly been shuttered since the Fireworkers went to war.
Sora stood and leaned out the window, looking for the source of that smoky smell. All seemed well on the slopes of King’s Peak. The lights of Village Peak glowed beyond Orchard Gorge. Square Peak was a dark lump across the Fissure, the lights concentrated around a few taverns where the Eventide festivities continued. Everything was as it should be.
Then she heard a shrieking, skittering sound, and a group of cur-dragons swooped in front of her window. She jolted back in surprise as the creatures circled around her tower, looking agitated, even fearful.
You have no idea what’s coming. Lima’s words came back to Sora like a blow to the head. Dread pulsed in the pit of her stomach. Somehow, she knew with utter certainty that tonight was the night everything would change.
A flicker of movement caught her eye. She looked up as a massive winged shadow flew in front of the moon. She froze, clutching the windowsill. A second shape followed it. Then a third.
A great shriek sounded, echoing in the Fissure, the Gorge, through the halls of the castle, and into every home on the three peaks. The murmur of voices and laughter stilled. The shadowy creatures turned in a wide arc. Moonlight shimmered on their scales and danced in their massive eyes. There were more than three. They flew in formation, all following a single leader, with scales of dark red. As the leader flew across the sky, moonlight shone through the membranes of its great wings, turning as red as blood.
Then the massive creature opened its mouth, and Fire roared from its throat, the liquid flames lighting up every inch of the mountain and revealing the shadowy figures for what they were. Dragons.
As if a spell had been broken, Sora surged away from the window. She darted out of her room, sweeping up her door guards in her wake. Oat led them tonight.
“Dragons,” she said. “There are dragons flying over Vertigon.”
“Cur-dragons, my queen?” Oat asked.
“No. This is something else.”
Sora dispatched the other guards to rouse their comrades from their beds and summon every Fireworker left on the mountain. The men rushed off to do her bidding, except for Oat, who stayed with her as they ran down the steps.
Sora remembered a whispered conversation she’d had with Kel on this very same staircase the night of the Surge at the Fire Warden’s greathouse. He’d mentioned an old song, something about the ancient spring in the burning range—and about true dragons waking. Had the Ruminors known even then what was coming?
Sora and Oat reached the bottom of the stairs. Oat slowed to hear a report from a young Castle Guard while Sora bolted for a balcony overlooking the far side of the castle. She had to see what was happening out there.
Pure carnage greeted her eyes.
The true dragons—there had to be half a dozen of them—were swooping all over Vertigon. Fire burst from their vile throats and spread across the houses and shops of King’s Peak. Screams and the roar of flames filled the night. People were running, panicked and desperate, seeking refuge from the torrent of Fire.
Sora clutched the railing, limbs trembling. The dragons attacked wherever they spotted movement, sometimes snapping people up in their powerful jaws, sometimes blasting them with Fire. They burned viciously, gleefully. These were no captive cur-dragons, no noble beasts out of fairytales. They were wild and angry, destroying everything in sight. The true dragons of legend had awakened.
“You should come inside, my queen.” Oat had appeared beside her on the balcony while she watched this nightmare come to life.
“We must get people to safety,” Sora said, attempting to pull herself together. “Have your men bring as many as possible into the c
astle. Our walls will offer more protection than their houses.”
“Yes, my queen.” Red light bathed Oat’s face as he looked at the dragons demolishing the city below. “Should we try to fight?”
“I’m open to suggestions,” Sora said. They had so few fighting men left thanks to the Lantern Maker. The mountain was full of women and children, elderly and injured men, mundane citizens who had no ability to shape the Fire or wield it as a weapon. All who could protect them were off fighting for glory in the Lands Below.
“Yuri and Kel are gathering archers,” Oat said, “but I don’t know if arrows will work against those monsters.”
“We’ll do what we can, but our first priority has to be protecting our people.” Sora couldn’t let her thoughts turn to Kel. “Where is Master Co—?”
“Look out!” Oat dove on top of Sora, knocking her to the ground as a massive spurt of Fire roared over the balcony. While they’d been watching the true dragons wreak havoc on the slopes below, another had flown around behind the castle. Just how many were there?
The dragon came around for another pass. Its scales were iridescent purple, and its eyes shone like Firejewels the instant before it released another blast. Flames roared over the castle walls, heating the stone so fast it cracked and groaned.
“Quickly, my queen.” Oat leapt off her and hauled her back toward the castle.
The purple dragon swooped low over the balcony, and Sora felt the heat from its massive body as more flame built within it. She dove through the doorway, scraping all the skin off her elbows, just as the Fire spewed from its throat.
“My queen, there’s more of them!” A young Castle Guard, a former duelist who was little more than a teenager, ran toward them across the entryway, braving the flames roaring just beyond the door to the balcony. “They’re attacking the castle!”
“We figured that out,” Oat said, voice strained.
As he spoke, a furious roar sounded from outside. Then a scraping, scrabbling sound came from the huge steel doors at the front of the castle. Another dragon had alighted in the courtyard and was trying to break down the castle door.
