Through Fire & Sea

by Nicole Luiken

  The dragon moaned and twisted his neck as if fighting invisible fetters. Leah watched in horror as he licked his mother’s strange high-heeled shoe.

  Qeturah smiled at this show of subservience.

  “And what is it that you ask him to do?” Leah asked, but she knew.

  “You’re such a clever boots, you’ve probably guessed already. Yes, the dragon attacks are my idea. I need supplies and coin to support myself in this godforsaken valley. The scheme works well. The dragon terrorizes the countryside, then I step in and send the dragon away. I gain power and status.”

  Leah couldn’t keep silent. “You don’t understand what you’ve done. The crops are failing, and the Volcano Lords are seething. Your greed has brought the duchies to the brink of war.”

  Qeturah smirked. “My dear girl, I engineered the whole thing. Once war breaks out, who do you think everyone will look toward to bring peace? They don’t trust each other, but the dragon is teaching them to trust me. They’ll name me their queen.”

  Leah couldn’t imagine Duke Ruben swearing fealty to a woman. “Why?” she asked, genuinely bewildered. She would never understand the nobility. “Is power so important that you would risk us all?”

  Hatred distorted Qeturah’s face. “I would burn this whole world if I could. It’s the smallest, most pathetic of the Mirror Worlds. Bad enough to be exiled from the True World, but the Councilors imprisoned me on Fire as a deliberate slap in the face.”

  She thinks I’m not real. That Sabra, Duke Ruben, Gideon—her own son—aren’t real. Nimue’s not the crazy one; she is.

  “Well, Leah, it’s time for you to choose. You provided valuable assistance on Water. You can continue working for me and spend afternoons with your soul mate. Or”—she lowered her voice—“I can tell the dragon to drop you in the volcano. Poor Gideon will be so distressed when he wakes up tomorrow and discovers what he did.”

  Leah stilled. She wouldn’t! But, of course, Qeturah would. What would she care if Gideon suffered?

  Hopelessness sucked at Leah. Maybe her mother was right. You couldn’t fight the nobility; they had all the advantages and the ruthless will to use them.

  But Qeturah’s advantage would vanish with the dawn when Gideon returned. Leah just needed to bide her time. “I’ll stay,” she whispered meekly.

  “Excellent.” Qeturah smiled. “To show your new loyalty, why don’t we start with a message to Duke Ruben? Tell him I heard of his recent dragon troubles and wish to help, but my blacksmith needs iron and…”

  Cringing, Leah copied out the thinly veiled extortion then walked over to the hypocaust in the corner. She nicked her finger with her belt knife but only pretended to bleed on the paper. She threw it in but, of course, couldn’t Call flame—

  The dragon hissed steam, and Thunderhead answered with a surge of fire through the hypocaust. Startled, Leah jumped back, and a droplet of blood from her finger flew into the flame. It sizzled, activating a message from Duke Ruben.

  A choking cloud of smoke and ash filled the room. Coughing, Leah seized a sheet of paper and held it over the vent. Two lines burned into it: I know of your betrayal. Return Jehannah or Beulah dies.

  Ashes. The duke had seen her on dragonback. He must think she’d led the attack. It puzzled her that he was still referring to her as Jehannah. He’d probably forgotten her true name. Not that it mattered. If Leah didn’t return—

  The hypocaust seemed to hiccup, and something landed at Leah’s feet.

  Bile rose in her throat. A perfect charcoal finger bone appeared before a gust of wind flaked it away.

  Leah’s face numbed. She could barely breathe through the awful guilt. Deep inside she’d thought the duke must harbor some fondness for his old lover, that he wouldn’t carry out his threat.

  She’d been wrong, and her mother had paid the price.

  “Tears? Oh, dear,” Qeturah said with fake solicitude, “have you received bad news?” She laughed. “Well, this has been quite entertaining, but there are some things I need to check on before I return to Water. Go wake Sabra for me.”

  Leah’s nails dug into her palms. In that moment, she hated both the duke and Qeturah with a pure flame, her hot blood rising. The dragon lifted his head, and she saw Gideon in his eyes. Gideon, who would never hurt her.

  “No,” Leah said abruptly. “Gideon and I are leaving now to rescue my mother.”

  Qeturah sighed. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth. Dragon, Leah has become a threat. Fly her and my otherself’s body to Thunderhead and drop them in the lava.” Confident she would be obeyed, she left.

  Leah let out a shaky breath and addressed the dragon. “Let me just get you some clothes, and then we’ll leave.” She slung a bag around her neck and shoulder and was stuffing a pair of Gideon’s trousers inside when the dragon made a low, mournful sound and reached out.

  Leah shrank back against the stone wall of the Aerie. Her pulse thudded in her neck as the dragon’s thick talon encircled her waist. “Wait. We need food.”

  The dragon picked up Nimue, too.

  Leah squirmed. Ignoring her puny struggles, the dragon jumped off the Aerie’s ledge, wings snapping out into flight.

  The wind whistled in Leah’s ears and whipped at her skirt. Her stomach pitched as she swung in dizzying arcs. The black silhouette of Thunderhead rapidly came into view. He was really going to do it.

  “Put me down!” Leah shouted.

  The dragon made a low, tortured sound, but his wingbeats didn’t falter, and he climbed higher.

  Panic edged her thoughts. The sight of Nimue’s lifeless body hanging beside her intensified her terror. Gideon would never hurt her—but the dragon wasn’t Gideon.

  All too soon, the summit loomed before them. “Listen to me, not her!”

  The dragon screamed—in pain? In rage or confusion? Leah couldn’t tell. Maybe it was just a dumb beast.

  Already Leah could feel the heat of the volcano’s molten core. A cloud of steam and sulfur scalded her skin. They flew over the caldera.

  “Gideon, please! I’m your soul mate.”

  The dragon released Nimue’s body. Leah saw Qeturah’s otherself vanish beneath the boiling orange magma.

  A shudder rippled through the dragon’s body. Moaning, he sheared off to the left. Away.

  Leah sagged in relief, but after thirty wingbeats, a hot pulse of despair emanated from the dragon, and he circled back toward the summit as if goaded by a whip. Betrayal stung her. How could he choose his mother over her?

  Unless… Leah’s breath caught in sudden hope. What if Qeturah was somehow forcing the dragon to obey her?

  Qeturah wasn’t hot-blooded. Her magic relied on mirrors… Of course! The talisman. Qeturah must use the chunk of obsidian Gideon wore to control the dragon.

  Leah craned her neck. In the red-orange glow from Thunderhead, she could make out the dragon’s diamond eyes and long neck, the tracery of orange blood in his wings, but she couldn’t see the talisman.

  “Put me on your back!” Leah yelled.

  That didn’t violate Qeturah’s instructions. The dragon deposited her gently on its left shoulder.

  Leah closed her eyes to the horrible drop below and pulled herself astride his neck.

  Muscles moved under his skin with every wingbeat, threatening to dislodge her, and there was no sheet to hold onto this time. The cold wind of their passage made tears stream from her eyes. Acting against every natural instinct, she loosened her death grip and patted the dragon’s neck.

  The dragon’s neck was much thicker than Gideon’s, especially at the base where it joined his immense shoulders. The talisman had hung to midchest on Gideon, hidden beneath his shirt. Perhaps the talisman lay higher along the dragon’s tapered neck. Gritting her teeth, Leah rose onto her knees.

  There. The talisman rested two feet over Leah’s head.

  “Hold on!” Leah shouted. She wrapped her legs around the dragon’s neck as she had seen young boys climb trees and tried to pull he
rself up, but her skirts hampered her. The weight of her body swung her upside down. The strap of her bag cut into her neck.

  Terrified, Leah locked her ankles together. She could already feel the strain on her arms and wrists. “Gideon!”

  They flew over the lip of the caldera. The searing heat made sweat dew on her skin, and the heavy stink of sulfur filled her lungs. Her eyes squinted against the brightness. Orange lava bubbled fifty feet below. Black crusts formed and then were rolled under.

  The dragon writhed in agony, fighting against Qeturah’s sorcerous command—and losing.

  Pulsing with sorrow, the dragon dipped his neck in defeat—and Leah slid toward his head. She tore loose the talisman just as the dragon plucked her off.

  She fell screaming, arms windmilling, toward the lava.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Diamond

  The dragon snatched Leah out of the air, fifteen feet above the roiling surface of the lava. Claws encircled her chest, brutally tight, cutting off her scream.

  Her feet kicked air. She was going to fall. Mewling animal noises of terror, she fought to climb higher but could get no purchase against his slick scales. Her pulse drummed in her throat.

  The dragon’s wings beat upward, but the immense heat from below still scorched Leah’s skin. The stench of burning metal filled her nostrils and made her light-headed.

  Bubbling lava shot up twenty feet in front of them. The dragon veered left, and her stomach stayed behind. He evaded the blazing orange column, but she cringed as droplets of molten rock sizzled against his black scales. A hot wind blasted cinders into her hair; she brushed frantically at them and burned her palm.

  Grimacing, she fanned her hand and something tumbled from her fingers. The obsidian talisman.

  The dragon’s wings beat twice, each powerful sweep of muscle taking them closer to safety. Leah felt a surge of hope as the lip of the caldera loomed, a black wall—

  The dragon faltered midbeat. One wing crumpled, and he screamed. Leah’s teeth jarred together as they dropped ten feet. His grip tightened, almost staving in her ribs, but he didn’t let go.

  Leah hid her face—we’re going to die—but one more desperate flap took them over the caldera edge.

  The dragon’s primal shriek dwindled into a human cry as his body folded up. His wings collapsed back onto his shoulders, his head shrunk, scales melting away. She glimpsed Gideon’s white face before they hit the ground, hard.

  They rolled twenty bruising feet down Thunderhead’s slope before slamming to a stop against a ridge of cooled lava.

  Ignoring her own scrapes, Leah frantically ran her hands over Gideon’s body, searching for blood. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine.” Groaning, he sat up.

  She could make out his face and bare chest in Thunderhead’s glow. Blushing, she dug his trousers out of the bag still slung across her body and handed them to him. Even that small movement sent twinges through her. As the shock of their fall wore off, she began to hurt.

  “What happened?” he asked as he shoved both feet inside the trousers.

  “What do you remember?” Leah avoided his gaze and rotated her shoulder. It had taken the brunt of her fall, but she could move it—just a bruise then.

  “Qeturah…she ordered me to kill you,” Gideon said hoarsely. “And I almost did. I couldn’t stop.” He choked as if shamed past bearing.

  “You didn’t have a choice.” Leah cupped his face. “Qeturah used your talisman to control your dragon form. I tore it off.”

  Gideon’s face screwed up. “I remember. I remember being a dragon.” His hands fisted in his hair as if he wanted to tear the memories away. “Ashes, the things I’ve done.” Horror bleached his face white.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Leah said fiercely.

  “Not my fault,” he repeated in a hollow voice. “That’s what I told myself all these years, but it’s a lie. I woke the Snoring Men on purpose. Qeturah ordered it, but I could’ve tried less hard. Instead I found it a challenge. You know what my favorite dragon game is? Swooping down and plucking men-at-arms off the wall, then dropping them.”

  He intended his litany of sins to horrify her, but Leah refused to back away. “It wasn’t you,” she insisted.

  “I’m a murderer. I’ve killed people, burned them up.” He shuddered.

  Leah searched for some way to show him the dragon wasn’t evil. “Did you kill women and children? Or only enemies, men-at-arms who were shooting at you?”

  Hope kindled in his eyes.

  Leah’s voice grew stronger. “If the dragon was a ravening beast, he would’ve killed me the first night he attacked Grumbling Man.”

  “I remember that night,” Gideon breathed. “I saw you on the rooftop, and it felt like a bell resonating inside me: I knew you were my soul mate. I swooped down to claim you, and that coward pushed you into my path to save his own skin. I don’t regret killing him,” Gideon said darkly.

  Leah had disliked Saul, but death seemed a steep price to pay for something done in panic. She swallowed. She would have to be careful not to arouse the dragon’s—or Gideon’s—protective instincts in future.

  “Whatever the dragon did in the past, it should be under your control now,” she said.

  He laughed bitterly. “You don’t understand. I can feel the dragon crouched inside me, waiting to get out.”

  She was losing him. Despair choked her. “You don’t know what will happen next time,” she argued.

  He got to his feet. “There is no next time. This ends now.” He started to climb the slope to the caldera.

  Leah’s fists clenched. “Then you lied to me. I’m not really your soul mate.”

  “What?” He turned. “Of course you are! I’m doing this to keep you safe.” He took another step.

  Leah raised her voice. “If you kill yourself, I’ll—I’ll jump in the volcano after you. I swear it.”

  “Leah!” Shock loosened his jaw, but whatever he saw in her face must have convinced him she meant it, because he groaned and sat down again.

  Moving gingerly because of her bruises, Leah sat beside him. She shivered in the cold mountain air, and he pulled her under his arm. Leah sighed as his dragon heat warmed her; it was like traveling with her own hypocaust.

  They sat together in the dark until a rumble from Thunderhead roused them. The ground shook, but only a few pebbles rattled past them.

  Leah’s heart thumped. “Is he—your father—angry at us?”

  Gideon’s gaze turned inward. “No. He feels proud, respected. Someone sacrificed a goat, probably one of Emman’s men.”

  Leah didn’t like the idea of someone else being on the mountain with them. “Can we avoid them?”

  “Yes. The path cuts back and forth down the west side. If we stick to the south, we should be fine.”

  In the pink light of dawn, they picked their way down Thunderhead’s steep slope. Leah panted, unable to get enough air to breathe. Gideon helped her scramble over a mixture of granite, quartz, and obsidian rocks.

  Down and down they went for over an hour. Leah had almost fallen into a trance when Gideon closed his hands around her waist to lift her down from a ridge. She set her hands on his shoulders for balance, and they ended in an embrace. Leah caught her breath, and Gideon stilled. The air seemed charged as he bent his head to kiss her.

  Just before their lips touched, Leah exclaimed in surprise. “Your eyes. They’ve changed color. They’re diamond white now.” Their previous brown color must have been an illusion spell contained in the obsidian talisman.

  Gideon’s hands tightened in dismay. “Diamond?”

  “They’re beautiful,” Leah told him truthfully. “But we’ll have to hope no one”—she gasped as he kissed her neck, but valiantly struggled on—“notices they’re the same color as…” His mouth silenced hers.

  “You were saying?” Gideon murmured long moments later as he pressed hot kisses against her temple and cheeks.

  “Hmm?” Lea
h opened dazed eyes.

  “You were trying to tell me something.” His lips curved as if pleased by his ability to befuddle her.

  “It wasn’t important.” Leah pulled his head back down to hers. When they finally broke apart, she wasn’t the only one whose legs were wobbling.

  Gideon’s chest heaved as if he’d been running. “We should go.”

  The sun had risen while they tarried. In five steps they passed from Thunderhead’s shadow into sunlight. Leah stretched, enjoying the warmth on her skin, but Gideon made a strangled noise and dropped to his hands and knees. His back bowed, and he gasped, “Get back! It’s happening!”

  Leah obeyed, expecting to see wings burst from Gideon’s shoulder blades and teeth sprout in his mouth. Instead, the transformation was limited to one hand. Fingers curved into talons, and black scales crawled up his arm.

  Only the hand in sunlight was affected. “Move into the shade,” Leah called.

  Gideon pulled his clawed hand back into shadow. Then, face contorting with effort, he reversed the change.

  He flexed the fingers of his left hand. “The curse always strikes at night.” He looked bewildered, but Leah thought she might understand.

  “The talisman must’ve forced the nighttime change on you.” Because that better suited Qeturah’s need for stealth than a boy who turned into a dragon in daylight. A fresh surge of hate buffeted Leah. “That’s why as soon as the talisman fell off, you turned back into a boy. Because that’s your natural form at night.”

  “So now that the talisman’s gone, I’ll be human at night and a dragon by day? No.” He answered his own question, suddenly sounding more confident. “It’s the heat of the sun that calls to my hot blood.”

  He stepped back into the sunlight. The muscles in his neck corded with effort, but his form held. Leah blinked back tears of joy.

  “I’m controlling it,” he whispered, his expression touched by awe. “Leah, I can control the dragon!” He swept her off her feet in an exuberant hug. “The curse is broken. I can stay a man forever.”