Foeslayer risked a glance at Arctic’s face. He looked as though he’d been stabbed through the heart himself.
“Are you … all right?” she asked.
“Obviously not,” he snapped back.
She blinked. “I mean — I know you’re upset. But I meant, how does your soul feel? Is it OK?”
“My soul is none of your concern,” he hissed.
“Um, yes, it is,” Foeslayer retorted. “If I’m going to marry you, your soul is very much my concern.”
Arctic let out a growl and turned his head away from her.
At the same moment, Prudence turned to glance back at them, and the look on her face was so smug that Foeslayer wished she could claw it right off.
You think you know everything about me and Arctic, Mother. You think we’re already falling apart and you’re so pleased with yourself. You can’t wait to say I told you so to me every day for the rest of my life.
But I love Arctic. I do, and that’s real. I’m going to make this marriage work. I’m going to make him keep loving me, and I’m not going to let him get away with acting like a jerk. I’m going to hang on to his soul. I’m going to make him happy. We are going to be happy.
Maybe this isn’t exactly the fate either of us expected. But it’s ours now.
Me and Arctic.
Together against the world.
Forever.
Keep reading for a sneak peek of
The nightmare rose out of the mountain, vast and glittering.
Turtle had never seen a dragon so large; he’d never seen eyes so sharp. He knew instantly that this dragon could and would happily kill him in a heartbeat.
Terror pounded through him like waves in a storm, building higher and higher.
I need to hide. I need to hide.
He desperately wanted to disappear, to vanish into the dark sky as if he’d never been there. He wished he could melt away like a camouflaged RainWing.
Why did I ever let anyone notice me? I’d be safe if I’d stayed boring and forgettable. This is what happens — when someone sees you, soon everyone will see you.
And one day that “everyone” will include a dragon who wants to kill you.
He couldn’t have explained how he was so sure. Darkstalker was smiling at the dragonets below him. In fact, he looked absolutely delighted, not particularly murderous.
And yet — as his eyes darted past Turtle, Turtle thought he saw a flash of hatred there, deep and fierce.
For some reason, this legendary dragon, the most powerful NightWing who’d ever lived, loathed Turtle with all his heart. Turtle was sure of it.
He’s going to kill me the first chance he gets.
This wasn’t how he’d expected his story to end.
Turtle had always loved stories. He loved histories and animus tales and stories of war, of skyfaring pirates or enchanted treasure, of scavengers who could speak the language of dragons, of lost tribes in faraway lands.
But his favorite stories were about heroes — especially the ones in the scrolls his mother wrote. Since she was so busy with running the kingdom, writing her scrolls, and protecting her heirs, Queen Coral didn’t have much time or interest to spare for any of her thirty-two sons. Reading her stories was as close as Turtle could ever get to her.
He loved scrolls about brave dragons who saved the day and stopped the forces of evil. One of his favorites was about a dragon named Indigo, who’d rescued the entire tribe from a deranged killer. Another starred an insignificant gardener named Droplet, who’d discovered a secret invasion of MudWings and fought them off before they found the hidden palaces.
The more Turtle read these stories, the more he imagined a story of his own: a story where Turtle was the hero.
A story where Turtle battled squadrons of SkyWings and storms of SandWings all on his own. A story where Turtle stood at the gates of the palace and swung his spear in ferocious arcs, stabbing their enemies, as strong as a whale, while his older brothers and the rest of the tribe cowered inside.
A story that ended with his parents cheering and hugging him. And then his mother would write a scroll that was all about him.
Turtle the Strong and Mighty
Turtle: A Tale of a Hero Heroically Doing Hero-Type Things
How Turtle Saved the Entire Kingdom with His Awesomeness
Sometimes, when Turtle had a moment alone, or when he wasn’t paying attention in class, he would secretly write pieces of this story on scraps of slate he kept hidden in his room. He dreamed that one day he’d have a whole manuscript to show his mother, and then she might say, “Oh, son, I know one of my daughters will run the kingdom eventually — but you are the true heir I’ve been waiting for: the next writer in the family.”
A hero or a writer. Or both, why not? That would be Turtle’s place in the world.
But then, too soon and disguised in a confusing shape, his chance came. His one opportunity to save the day and be a hero in his parents’ eyes — but he didn’t even know it until it was over, and he’d failed.
He failed, and they hated him, and he’d never get that chance again.
That night when he’d failed to find Snapper and save his unhatched sisters, Turtle destroyed every bit of writing he’d ever done and swore he would never write again. He’d stop dreaming; he’d stop imagining that a useless dragon like him could ever save the day or make something wonderful.
He wasn’t the hero, and he wasn’t the storyteller. He was the idiot who fell over his claws in the first chapter, had to be rescued in the fourth, nearly ruined the whole plan in the ninth, and ran away at the end, or died, if he was really extra stupid.
So he hid his one power and stayed exactly where he was supposed to: under the surface of the water, in the middle of his pack of brothers. Ordinary, unmemorable. A dragon nobody would expect anything from, and so nobody could ever be disappointed by him again.
And that had worked for quite a long time, until he made the mistake of caring about some other dragons and trying to do a couple of little things to help them, and where did that lead him?
Right to the feet of the most terrifying dragon the world had ever known.
This is the part where I die pointlessly. The one who gets sacrificed so the real heroes can get on with saving the day.
His wings were shaking so hard he couldn’t stay in the air. He dropped down beside Moon and Qibli, clutching the ground with his talons. Winter and Peril were still hovering in the sky, their wings beating, silver and gold flashing in the moonlight.
I need to hide, Turtle thought. But how could anyone hide from the most dangerous dragon in the world — a mind reader, an animus, and a seer who knew the future?
He can’t read my mind, though. Turtle’s gaze dropped to the three remaining skyfire stones in his armband, which shielded him from mind readers. Maybe he had a millisecond to do something, anything, before Darkstalker foresaw it and stopped him.
He scrabbled his talons along the ground, keeping his eyes on the towering NightWing. His claws closed around something small and rough — a broken stick from one of the trees that had fallen when the mountain cracked open.
Hide me, Turtle thought at it frantically. Hide me from Darkstalker.
Darkstalker stretched his vast wings and grinned at Peril. “Ah, that’s infinitely better,” he said. “Nice to finally meet you, Peril. Thank you so much for your help.”
Peril roared furiously and threw herself at him, claws outstretched and flames blazing from her mouth.
“Peril!” Moon shrieked as fire engulfed Darkstalker’s face.
“Oh, no, no, no,” Darkstalker said, waving away the smoke. He pressed one of his front talons into Peril’s chest and held her at arm’s length while she struggled and tried to bite him. “Peril, very brave, but tsk-tsk. First of all, I’m your friend, although I realize you’re new to that whole concept. Second of all, invulnerable scales over here! Didn’t you know that? Surely that detail came up at some point in the great s
cary legend of Darkstalker. There’s nothing you can do to me, little firescales. So settle down and let’s start over.”
Peril fell back, breathing heavily and brushing at her scales where Darkstalker had touched her. The smoke rising from her wings twisted into the thin clouds in the sky overhead.
Turtle’s heart was still pounding. Darkstalker turned toward Moon, and his eyes went right past Turtle as though the SeaWing prince was not there. But Turtle still didn’t feel safe, not completely hidden, not yet.
Darkstalker paused with a slight frown. “Weren’t there … more of you?” he asked, touching his temple. “Wasn’t there someone I particularly wanted to see?”
Moon glanced around, confused.
“Particularly wanted to see” — does he mean ME? I need a better spell, Turtle thought in a panic. He gripped the stick harder. As long as this stick is near me or touching me, I enchant it to hide my entire existence from Darkstalker. That means he cannot see me or hear me; he cannot remember that he’s ever heard of me; he cannot hear about me in other people’s minds or conversations; and he cannot see me anywhere in his futures. I enchant this stick to completely erase the dragon holding it from Darkstalker’s awareness.
The furrow disappeared from Darkstalker’s forehead. “Moon!” he cried, beaming at her. “We’re finally meeting! Isn’t this amazing? Wow, you’re a lot smaller than I thought you’d be.”
“That’s you, actually,” Qibli said, finally finding his voice. “You’re … a lot bigger than you probably remember.”
Darkstalker looked down at the ground, held out his talons, and flicked his massive tail, knocking a shower of boulders down the slope. He wasn’t really as big as the entire mountain, although it had seemed that way to Turtle at first. But he was at least three times as big as the biggest full-grown dragons Turtle had ever seen.
“I really am,” Darkstalker said, delighted. “Two thousand years of slowly growing. I must be the hugest dragon that ever lived. Also the oldest — by all the shining moons, I’m ancient, aren’t I?”
“Beware the darkness of dragons,” Moon said, taking a step back. “Beware the stalker of dreams …”
“Oh, that’s not me!” Darkstalker said. “Moon, come on, you know that. I don’t slither about in the dreams of other dragons, apart from fixing your nightmares. I’m guessing that part of the prophecy was about Queen Scarlet, who, you might remember, was chock-full of darkness. On the other talon, ‘something is coming to shake the earth’ — that’s totally me! Watch this.” He stomped one foot on the ground so hard that tremors shuddered out in all directions. Turtle stumbled, and the closest small tree fell over.
Darkstalker grinned at Moon. “Pretty impressive, right?” He paused, thinking. “I guess being this big is the upside of being alive for two thousand years, even if I slept through it all. BY THE CLAW-SHAPED MOONS, I am SO HUNGRY. Does anyone have any food?”
“How did you get out?” Winter demanded.
The look Darkstalker shot at Winter was as unfriendly as the one he’d given Turtle. He doesn’t like IceWings either, Turtle realized.
But Darkstalker’s answer was cordial. “Oh, that was all Peril here,” he said, tapping the SkyWing on the head. Peril’s blue eyes were blinking fast and her claws kept clenching and unclenching.
“When she set my scroll on fire,” Darkstalker explained, “all my magic returned to me, so I could use it to free myself. Wasn’t that kind of her?”
Peril’s wings slumped. She looked as though she’d just rescued a baby dragonet from a trap only to watch it immediately get eaten by a great white shark.
Turtle wished he could make her feel better. He wanted to fly up and tell her this wasn’t her fault, but his wings were still shaking too hard for him to take off. Also, he hadn’t completely convinced himself that the magic was working. What if Darkstalker could see him, after all? He didn’t want to draw the NightWing’s attention, just in case.
“Wait,” Moon said. “That means — you lied to me.” She unfurled her wings and pointed at Darkstalker. “You told me to destroy the scroll if it looked like it would fall into evil talons. You made it sound like then you’d be trapped forever, but it would be worth it to protect everyone else. But you wanted me to destroy the scroll all along. You knew that would send your power back to you! You were tricking me!”
“Yes, that’s true,” said Darkstalker, “but lucky for me that I did, right? Otherwise you might never have freed me. Not very kind, Moon. I’d say I did the right thing.” He looked at her without a smile for the first time, his eyes odd and glittering.
“You called us friends,” Moon said in a low voice. “You shouldn’t trick your friends.”
“Yes, well, you also shouldn’t leave your friends trapped under a mountain for the rest of their immortal lives,” Darkstalker said briskly. “Good point, Darkstalker. Listen, I can’t even talk anymore, I’m so hungry. Let’s all catch something to eat and then you can show me around Jade Mountain! There are some dragons there I can’t wait to meet.” He lifted off into the air, then turned to beckon at Moon. “Come on, Moon! I just want to have friends again, to use my voice, to hunt and fly. Can’t we save the ‘oh, no, but you’re so sinister and evil’ talon-wringing for later? What do you say — give me a chance?”
Moon glanced at Qibli, looking torn.
“I’m not going with you,” Peril said. “You’re not the queen of me!”
“Me neither,” said Winter. “The IceWings have legends about you. We know what you did to us. And I don’t take orders from —”
“I’m not ordering you to do anything, Prince Winter,” Darkstalker said, turning to look at Winter. The IceWing fell silent. “But I think you know that those old legends don’t tell the whole truth. You know that a dragon should not be judged by what other dragons say about him. And the more time you spend with me, the more I think you’ll find that I’m really an absolutely wonderful dragon.” He smiled with all his teeth.
Winter touched his temples for a moment, then stared at Darkstalker with something new in his blue eyes.
“You’re right,” he said. “Let’s start over.”
“Winter?” Qibli said sharply. He darted into the sky and up beside Winter, brushing the silver dragon’s wings with his own. “Are you all right?”
“Of course,” said Winter. He tipped his head toward Darkstalker. “I am trying not to judge dragons too quickly anymore. Let’s hear him out.”
“That doesn’t sound like the Winter I know,” Qibli said to Moon. “Does this seem weird to you?”
“You don’t know me that well,” Winter objected, snorting a tiny cloud of ice crystals. “Dragons can change! I’ve changed. Maybe he has, too.”
“Without question,” Darkstalker said, nodding. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about my mistakes.”
Qibli backed away from them, worry spilling across his face. “Moon …” he said carefully, as though he were reaching for the only island in a vast, empty sea. She flew up beside him, ducking her head to look into Winter’s eyes.
“Did you do something to him?” Moon asked Darkstalker.
“Of course I didn’t!” Darkstalker protested, and, “No! He didn’t!” cried Winter at the same time.
“Darkstalker,” Moon said. “You have to promise me — you cannot put spells on my friends.”
“I’m really offended by this,” Winter said haughtily. “I’m such an open-minded dragon.”
Peril and Qibli snorted in unison.
“Moon,” Darkstalker said reasonably. “I wouldn’t waste my animus magic — and my soul — on some tiny hush-up-an-IceWing spell. I mean, seriously. Don’t you remember the whole point of my scroll? That I made?”
“To keep your soul safe,” Moon said hesitantly. She swooped around Winter, studying him. “But —”
“Stop worrying so much!” Darkstalker nudged her with one of his giant wings. “Boy, you remind me of someone I used to know. Can’t you be excited for me? This is
a great day! Let’s go celebrate! Tell you what, I promise if I feel the need to use animus magic, I’ll let you know.”
“And you promise not to hurt my friends?” Moon asked.
Darkstalker sighed gustily, sending a hurricane of leaves swirling around Turtle’s feet. “I’m hurt that you even need to ask me that,” he said. “But of course. If it makes you feel better, I promise that these three are officially the safest dragons in Pyrrhia.” He waved his talons at Qibli, Winter, and Peril.
Moon opened her mouth, then closed it. She and Qibli simultaneously looked down at Turtle.
Turtle crouched lower, pressing his underbelly into the ground, and shook his head at them.
“Let’s hunt now, as Darkstalker suggests,” Qibli said, nudging Moon, “and figure out what to do next after that.” He shot a significant glance at Turtle.
Oh no. That glance had a meaning, a message. Qibli was expecting Turtle to do something, and Turtle had a bad feeling that “something” wasn’t “Turtle flying all the way back to the Kingdom of the Sea, finding a deep trench, and staying there forever.” A queasy, tense feeling started bubbling through Turtle’s stomach.
“Good idea,” said Winter.
Moon nodded, and then she gave Turtle a meaningful look, too.
By all the moons, what did they think he was going to do? Attack Darkstalker, like Peril had? Obviously that wouldn’t work. If Peril couldn’t hurt him, Turtle certainly wouldn’t be able to.
Did they want him to hide them as well? He winced. He should have thought of that sooner. A good friend, a better dragon — a hero — would have thought to protect everyone instead of just hiding himself. But they all wanted to talk to Darkstalker, didn’t they? I just wanted to hide. That’s what I always do.
As the dragons flew away, veering southwest, Qibli twisted in a spiral, looked at Turtle again, and flicked his tail in the direction of Jade Mountain.
Oh, Turtle realized. They want me to go warn the school.
I can probably do that without messing it up.
I think.
For a moment, Peril hovered mutinously in the sky behind them, and then she swooped down to Turtle.
Runaway Page 4
