“Oh, we’re getting out,” Leena said through a smile. She started digging in her bag. “And not because of anything written in these scrolls.”
The scribe was clearly in denial. Raven’s throat felt thick as she said, “I can’t do the simplest of spells. We’re stuck. We’re going to die in here.”
“No…” Leena shot her a look like she was positively offended. “We’re not. Stupid dragons.” She pulled out one of her metalwork quills and started taking it apart. Magic ink spilled on the black stone floor.
“Leena, am I missing something? You seem far too happy about being locked in this dungeon.” The scribe reached forward and plucked a metal button off Raven’s jacket. “What are you doing?”
“Do you know anything about my people?” Leena asked. “Anything about elves?”
Raven frowned. “You’re from Rogos. You worship the goddess the same as Paragonians. You record the history of Ouros. Oh, and you can shoot invisible arrows at your enemies, although I didn’t actually know that until I saw you do it to Crimson.”
Leena pulled a pin from her braid and a thin metal buckle from her bag. She gave Raven a giant smile. “Oh, come on, Raven, you know more than that. You walked into one of our masterpieces just today.”
Her brows rose. “Oh, and you’re excellent at working metal.”
“We are creators. It’s not a magical skill but a mechanical one. We are born able to build things—wonderful things. And with our magic, we can even animate such a thing. But we don’t need magic to build. That skill, we are born with.” Silver flashed between Leena’s nimble fingers. “Dragons know nothing of elves. For centuries, they’ve ignored us, taken it for granted that we’d remain neutral. Eleanor hasn’t spent any time learning about us or our strengths. If she had, she never would have locked an elf inside a dungeon with any tools at all.”
Raven gaped as Leena finished her bending and held up a rudimentary skeleton key. The scribe stood, walked to the bars, and jiggled her creation into the lock.
“Few adjustments.” She pulled it out and bent a few silver parts, then slipped it into the lock again.
The mechanism clicked, and the door swung open.
“Holy shit.” Raven gaped. “You’re incredible.”
Leena took an elaborate bow.
Scrambling to her feet, Raven retrieved Leena’s bag from the floor and held it out to her as she passed out of the cell. By the time they reached the door that led to the stairwell, her magic had come back to her, burning hot and ready in her torso. Leena used her key to unlock the dungeon. There was no guard. Likely every soldier had been called into battle.
“Do you still think we’re going to die?” Leena asked her, looking up the stairs and no doubt remembering the two nightmarish women who’d brought them here.
Raven shook her head, dark thoughts brewing inside her. “Oh no. We’re not going to die. They are.” She grabbed Leena by the arm, twisted into a column of smoke, and blew through the palace, a dark wind hell-bent on getting her daughter back.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was time to kill the Mountain.
Eleanor opened the golden grimoire on her ritual table, the book’s celestial energy pulsing against her fingertips. Everything she’d ever wanted, the power that had lingered just beyond her reach for so long, would be hers with the right spell. Light radiated from the pages, poured over her, buzzed against her skin. It was no surprise Hera wanted this. The book was the most potent magical object she’d ever encountered.
“Show me how to kill the goddess of the mountain,” she ordered the tome.
The pages flipped, increasing in speed until they came to the spell she desired. The parchment settled with a gust of wind that blew back her hair and then dusted across her fingers, fading with the light.
The grimoire was written in the language of the gods, but with a twist of her ring and a practiced translation spell, the symbols arranged themselves into something she could read. “It’s easier than I thought. We spill the child’s blood over the heir’s heart and direct the reaction into the Mountain like a celestial spear. It will open up a channel where I can absorb the goddess’s power and leave her with none. She won’t actually be dead, sadly, but drained to the point she cannot wake. And with her power, I will ascend.”
Crimson shot her a look. “How will you get Gabriel’s heart?”
“I don’t need Gabriel’s heart. I have Marius’s.” She palmed the giant diamond. She’d resurrected the witch only hours ago, and under better circumstances, Eleanor would have had time to rest before performing this spell. But there was no time. Even now, she could hear the barbarians at the gate, pounding on the wards around the palace with nothing but her destruction on their minds.
The blond witch scoffed. “I’m not familiar with your magic, but in my world, the heart has to be fresh. There’s no magic in a dead heart.”
Eleanor lifted a corner of her mouth. She was glad to have this woman here to appreciate the genius of what she was about to do. No one really understood her. No one appreciated the power she’d so artfully cultivated. Maybe this resurrected human witch would.
“Ah, but this heart isn’t dead.” She held up the diamond between her talons. “See the silver flame inside the facets? It’s his soul. I’ve enchanted it to stay right where it is. More powerful that way. I can reuse it again and again. It’s how I resurrected you. That and a child’s blood.”
Crimson whistled. “That’s a dark bit of magic.” She poked her tongue into her cheek. The smile she shot her next was too big. It showed all her teeth and even more of her ambition. Yes, this woman did understand. “That’s why I wanted Raven and Gabriel’s brat. I knew I could use it to make myself immortal.”
Eleanor snarled. “And it will. Once I use the child’s blood to kill the goddess, you can have what’s left of her to extend your otherwise short human life. I won’t have use for the babe after this.” A blast shook the mountain, and she staggered forward, pulling the diamond closer to her chest.
“What the fuck was that?” Crimson clutched at her bodice.
Another blast rumbled in the distance. Eleanor frowned. “Darnuith and Rogos. If they haven’t made it through the wards yet, they will soon.” Her gaze cast to the window. “And when the suns set, Nochtbend and its vampires will be joining the party.”
“Vampires?” Crimson’s brow rose in intrigue.
“Bring the babe,” Eleanor commanded. “We must hurry.”
Crimson unlocked the iron cage where they’d shoved the screaming child after they’d rid themselves of her mother. But when Crimson reached inside for her, Charlie snapped.
“Ouch! The little shit bit me!” She yanked her hands back, and Eleanor growled as the child fluttered its strange, feathery wings and flew to the highest shelf in her ritual room. Charlie grinned down from above, her cherubic face framed in flaxen curls.
“Come here, child,” Eleanor said in her sweetest tone. She motioned with her hand.
Charlie kicked her feet over the side of the shelf and giggled.
“Retrieve her now,” Eleanor demanded of Crimson.
The blond sorceress scoffed. “The contract allowed me to call her to me once. Now that she’s mine, I have no more control than you.” She glanced at the bite on her hand. “Besides, I’m injured, and you’re the one with all the power.”
Eleanor sneered. The bite was jagged and bleeding. She couldn’t underestimate the spawn of a witch and a dragon. This was no helpless child. Eleanor whirled as another blast shook the palace. She didn’t have time for this.
Thumbing her ring, she drew a symbol in the air. Power snapped out, a yellow lasso of lightning that snagged the whelp. The babe’s head whipped back as Eleanor yanked her off the shelf. Charlie wailed and dropped. Eleanor caught her, the empress’s talons digging into the babe’s soft skin. Charlie screamed in pain.
“Hmm. Not the hide of a dragon. Soft. Easy to bleed. That’s convenient.” Ignoring Charlie’s cries,
Eleanor wrangled the thrashing child into her pentagram. She placed Marius’s heart on the floor at the center of the symbol and braced the babe over her knee with a firm hand, then extended one talon toward her throat.
“Take your hands off my daughter!”
Eleanor had a split second to recognize Raven, and then a blast of pure power knocked her out of the symbol and into the shelves at the head of her ritual room. Magical objects rained down upon her head, the shelves cracking and splitting. From the darkened pile of rubble, Eleanor watched the skeleton of a baby dragon she’d kept on the highest shelf tip forward and back on its perch before giving way.
The last thing she saw before the lights went out was its skull dropping toward her.
Raven caught Charlie in her arms, one eye trained on the rubble. Eleanor wasn’t dead. There was no way that was enough to kill a dragon. But the pile of debris didn’t move.
“Where’s Crimson?” Leena asked from behind her.
Raven’s eyes searched the room, ice forming in her stomach when she couldn’t find the other witch. A dark cloud manifested behind the scribe. The elf screamed. Crimson pressed a curved blade to Leena’s throat and leveled her gaze on Raven. “Hand over the kid or your friend dies, little witch.”
Crimson’s knife pressed into Leena’s neck, drawing a bead of blood that trickled along the edge. The hate Raven felt for the former mambo was all-consuming. She clutched Charlie to her, knowing that as long as Crimson lived, Charlie was technically hers. She’d agreed to it. She’d shaken the witch’s hand and sealed the contract before she ever knew she could conceive, when she’d thought that after years of chemotherapy, she was barren.
That was before she respected the boundaries of magic.
Leena blinked wide, fearful eyes at her. She was a scribe. She was supposed to record what happened in this world, not participate in it, and here she was with a knife pressed to her throat. Raven clenched her teeth. She’d have to kill Crimson. Nothing less would break the contract. Raven wasn’t a murderer, but she already knew she could do it. She would do it.
“Give me the babe or she dies,” Crimson said again. She pointed her chin toward the pile of shelving, books, and magical accoutrements that buried Eleanor. “She might not be able to use her anymore, but I certainly can.”
“She has a name, Crimson. It’s Charlie. She’s a person!” Raven wasn’t trying to convince the evil woman, just buy time while she considered what to do. She had an almost limitless arsenal of spells at her disposal, but Eleanor was right before—she couldn’t wield any spell properly when her heart was galloping and her every instinct kept her clinging to her daughter.
Crimson scoffed. “I don’t care what she is, sweetheart. I only care that she has a heart in her chest that can make me immortal.”
Raven kissed her daughter’s cheek. She couldn’t hand her over. Wouldn’t.
“No,” Leena whispered. “Don’t you even think about it, Raven.”
“Shut up, bitch.” Crimson dug the blade deeper into her skin. Raven watched more blood bubble where the blade bit in.
Something warm and wet dripped on Raven’s fingers. She pulled her hand away from Charlie and stared at the bright red staining them in confusion. How was Leena’s blood on her fingers? No, this was Charlie’s blood. She saw it now, red oozing from her back to stain her beautiful white feathers. Charlie whimpered in her arms.
“Now, Raven!” Crimson said.
“She’s hurt. I have to heal her, or she’ll be no good to you.” It was a lie. Likely Charlie’s injury wouldn’t have an effect on Crimson’s spell at all, but it was a perfect excuse to delay handing her over. “It’s going to be okay,” Raven whispered, as much to herself as to the baby. With a soft incantation under her breath, her hands began to glow, and she pressed them to Charlie’s wounds. “Mommy’s going to make it better.”
“You’re testing my patience, Raven. I don’t care about the blood,” Crimson said through her teeth.
The wounds stitched themselves together, her daughter’s whimpers becoming less intense and then subsiding. By the time the wound was a pale pink, Charlie cuddled into the side of Raven’s neck, wiping her wet cheeks on her shirt.
Leena’s mouth gaped like a fish. “Raven, the blood—”
Whatever she was trying to say was cut off by Crimson’s digging blade. The scribe tucked in her chin, more blood carving a trail from her neck, flowing faster between her breasts, staining her robes. Raven couldn’t allow Leena to die for her mistake. She’d get Charlie back. Somehow…
“Enough! Do it now!” Crimson reached for her.
Throat thick, Raven shifted Charlie in her arms and then handed her over.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Colin stabbed a sword through the heart of the dragon in front of him, then landed a foot in his gut and kicked him off his blade. The soldier crumpled at his feet. He moved on to the next, punching and slashing, careful not to decapitate them if he could avoid it. These guards were practically children. Eleanor and Ransom had recruited younger and younger dragons into the Obsidian Guard to replace older men who were too wise to continue serving. He doubted most even understood what they were fighting for. He would do everything in his power to avoid killing them.
Beside him, Xavier and Gabriel plowed through the soldiers like machines. The three had slipped through the wards at the gate using a seal of the palace—a magical talisman that Sylas had stolen off one of the guardsman’s horses when he and Dianthe had rescued Aborella. It only worked on the gate, a small area near the guardhouse where riders needed it to file in and out of the palace. The seal allowed only one rebel warrior through at a time, but it was a foothold. That was all they needed.
Above him, Nathaniel was using that magic smoke of his to unlock the heavier wards that rose like a dome over the palace. Dozens of witches hovered in the sky behind his brother, waiting in formation for the wards to drop. Wands glowing like stars in the full light of day, their black robes flowed over the backs of their brooms and their lips mumbled spells Colin could not hear. It was an intimidating sight, and he was instantly glad Darnuith was on their side.
If Nathaniel succeeded in opening a small passageway, not only could the witches mount an aerial attack, they could use their magic to unravel the rest of the wards like a knitted sweater with a loose string. Already their dark power pounded warning blows, loud enough he was sure Eleanor could hear them inside.
If the witch army successfully breached the wards, he’d readied the elves to complete the second wave. The tears of the goddess were fused to their arrows in stone capsules, enough to strike fear in any dragon. In fact, Hobble Glen had fallen as soon as the first arrow burned through a dragon in the street. They’d all surrendered, even the Highborns, or locked themselves away in their houses.
And that was before the animus arrived. Rogos had constructed ten giants out of metal and animated them with elven magic. One faceless mass of gears and metal had followed him through the gate and was beating back the Obsidian guards with a massive club.
The uprising was happening all over Ouros. Sylas and Dianthe were leading a battalion of fairies against Paragon sympathizers in Everfield. Sabrina and Tobias were waiting for the suns to set in Nochtbend to lead the vampires into the fray.
“Colin! To yer left!” Xavier cried.
He blocked a strike with his sword, then collided with a dragon half his age and snapped his neck in two breaths. The boy’s body dropped like a stone. Fuck. Did that soldier even try?
“They’re through,” Gabriel called as witches swarmed over them like dark locusts. “I’m going after Raven.”
Once Gabriel waved Nathaniel forward, together they soared to the veranda and into the palace. Through a spray of blood and clashing metal, Colin noted that one guardsman paused to take notice and then pulled a Paragonian grenade from his belt.
Ransom. Colin dove forward as the grenade left his hand. He had to stop it from reaching Gabriel. He was too far away, bu
t if he threw his weapon…
Magic rattled down his body. He’d stopped the grenade from reaching Gabriel and Nathaniel, but it had detonated when his sword had collided with it. Colin landed on his back on the ground, his muscles twitching.
Ransom swaggered to his side, a shit-eating grin on his face. He flicked Colin’s fallen sword away with the toe of his boot. “You won’t be needing that.”
Colin couldn’t see where he’d kicked the weapon, couldn’t turn his head, but considering Ransom’s dragon strength, it was likely clear across the field of battle. That’s what he’d have done if things were reversed. How he wished things were reversed.
Paragonian grenades scrambled the nervous system. Colin’s breath halted in his throat, and his eyelids froze open. He was completely at the younger dragon’s mercy.
Sneering down at him, Ransom delivered a kick to his side. Bones crunched. Pain rocketed through him. “Fucking brat. Why couldn’t you just fall in line?”
So, this is how it ends, Colin thought, surprised his mind was clear despite his body disobeying his every command. Ransom lifted his sword, his aim focused on Colin’s neck. There would be no mercy from the captain of the guard.
The strangest part was that Colin was ready. Maybe it was even a blessing, considering he was a dragon rejected by his mate. His only regret was that he would not be the one to save Leena. He’d have to leave her protection to Gabriel. It would be all right if his blood spilled out on this field. An honorable death.
Metal flashed behind Ransom, and if Colin could have smiled, he would have. The massive club of a faceless metal machine, an animus from Rogos, connected with Ransom’s gut. Colin heard an “oomph” escape Ransom’s lungs, and then the captain and his sword went flying.
Unable to move, Colin watched as the metal giant stepped right over him. The whir and clank of working gears filling his ears for one tense moment, and then the machine was gone
The Dragons of Paragon Page 17
