But he wanted the stories more than his wings wanted air and his belly wanted meat, so he stayed. She would come. She always came.
When he heard her voice, it was in the wrong place.
He launched himself out of the trees and into the air. The heat of the sun coursed through him. The strength of the wind bore him up. He saw her alone, far from the wretched city, far from the eyes and teeth on the wall.
He didn’t think why. Why here, when it was always there—at the rock, higher up on the mountainside. Kozu needed, so Kozu went.
She was all he saw. He watched her face turn up to him, the story of Elorma pouring out of her mouth. He circled, landed, sending up red dust. When it settled, he started toward her, needing to tell her a tale of his own, needing her to put a voice to all the stories inside him so the Old One could live on.
Fixated on his dark jewel, he didn’t see the glint of sun on metal. Didn’t see until all of them were stepping out of the trees with blades that stopped the hearts of dragons.
He looked from the girl to her kin swarming out of the woods. Theysmelled like iron and hate. Their gazes devoured him, hungry for his hide.
With her story finished, she reached for him. It was his turn to tell.
But Kozu stepped back. She had brought her kin, armored and afraid. She had tricked him into flying to this unsheltered place. There was nowhere to hide.
Fire sizzled in his veins. Thunder rumbled in his blood.
He lashed his tail as the circle of metal tightened around him. He roared a warning to keep back.
They didn’t heed him. They followed the orders of one man only: a king with power in him. It was this king who Kozu would destroy.
The fire in his chest grew, big and bright and hot.
The circle tightened, its teeth sharp and ravenous.
The king called the name of Kozu’s jewel. She went, scared now, crying for Kozu to stop. But the fire was too big and too bright inside him.
The armored men stepped closer, metal raised, ready to pierce Kozu’s heart. A heart that beat too fast and loud.
Kozu lunged. His tail and claws came down on metal. A claw-sharp point ripped down his face. Bright burning pain exploded in his eye, followed by darkness.
Kozu screamed as hot blood spilled out.
The fire in him rushed across the armored men whose blades were tearing down his face. It rushed across those beyond, stopping their ascent.
It rushed toward his dark jewel.
Kozu couldn’t stop it. Kozu could only watch.
He watched the king raise his shield. Watched him step away from his daughter, leaving her to face the fire alone.
Her scream pierced the sky.
That scream.
It chased him as he leaped into the air. Lived inside him as he spilled his rage over the king’s city. With the city burning behind him, Kozu flew fast and hard and far. Out of the Rift, across the endless desert, to the other side of the world, half blind and aching for the girl with the ancient voice.
The girl who betrayed him.
Thirty-One
“Liar!”
Kozu dropped her into the grass. The moment she touched the ground, she drew her slayers.
Lies. Wasn’t that what all stories were? Wasn’t that what made them so dangerous?
