Jarek stopped mere steps from Asha. His shining saber fell to his side as he stared at his king.
Dark red blood seeped across the dragon king’s golden robe. Asha’s slayer clattered to the stones as he staggered, releasing the skral, and turned to face his daughter. The tip of her axe stuck through the front of his chest, where it sliced through his heart.
Her father touched his crest, blotted with his own blood. He gulped and gulped. Blood spread and spread.
“Asha... ?”
His voice echoed against the walls of the court, but not as loudly as it echoed inside her own rib cage, catching there to haunt her heart.
The dragon king fell to the ground at her feet, his body contorted, blood pooling all around him. Just like every dragon Asha had ever killed. His sightless eyes stared up at her. Ashastared back, unable to look away.
Darkness enveloped her then. Torwin pressed her face into his chest, blocking out the sight of her father’s corpse. He cupped her head, holding her tight as she shook, her hands bunching the fabric of his shirt.
“Get away from her, skral,” Jarek growled.
Torwin held her tighter.
And then: the piercing cry of a hawk filled the air.
Torwin loosed Asha as a flurry of flaming arrows sailed through the air above them. Each and every arrow met its mark, sinking into the chests of the archers on the walls.
The courtyard erupted into motion as the scrublander army poured into the court, its ranks joined by draksors and skral, all of them armed to the teeth. Roa led them. The curve of her double-edged blade already shone with blood as her gaze searched the crowd. At her side stood Safire, her eyes blazing.
Roa gave a command. Her hawk flew to Dax.
“Kill them!” Jarek screamed at his soldats. “Kill them all!”
But the soldats were outnumbered and the dragon king was dead. The next time arrows rained down, there were only half as many.
Asha turned to Kozu, who was bleeding and studded with arrows. The First Dragon watched her with a calm, slitted eye. His body arched around her as she pulled the arrows out, thinking of Shadow. Of the blood streaming from the gash in his chest.
But Kozu’s wounds were minor. Kozu was going to live.
Torwin grabbed a dead archer’s bow and caught arrows asthey sailed past, quickly shooting back, picking the rest of the balcony archers off, one by one. The clash of metal on metal rose as soldats charged. Asha heard the sickening sound of bodies connecting with blows.
Dax was at Roa’s side. They fought back to back as Essie flew in a tight, protective circle above.
And in the distance was the sound of a multitude of wings.
A moment later, the rooftops lit up with fire, breathed from the bellies of dragons swarming like storm clouds above them. Any archers still on the rooftops were there no longer. The gust of dragon wings rushed through the courtyard as they landed. When the rooftops became too crowded, the others flew in circles above.
The courtyard went silent and still. Overpowered and surrounded, soldats began laying down their weapons and surrendering. All except Jarek, who stared down Dax, both hands gripping his saber.
Dax approached, his footsteps ringing with victory. “You’re finished.”
Jarek spat at Dax’s feet. “If I’m to die, I’ll die defending the true king.”
“So be it,” a voice rang out. A knife hissed through the air, followed by two more. They sailed from Safire’s hands and sank into Jarek’s chest.
His saber fell, clanging against the marble floor. He reached for the hilts, trying to pull them out. Scrublander soldiers rushed in, tackling him to the floor and fastening irons around his wrists and ankles.
Safire stood over him, breathing hard, her last throwing knife gripped in her hand. “I should have done this a long time ago.”
She stabbed the knife in his heart.
Forty-Eight
They burned the dragon king’s body on a pyre. Asha didn’t see it, chained as she was to the damp dungeon walls. But afterward, Safire told her how the fire consumed his body. How the smoke clotted the air. How all Firgaard came to mourn while Kozu watched from the wall.
