“The skral are revolting!” called one of the soldats. “We need to go back!”
Every skral in the city would have heard of what happened in the pit. That the Iskari saved a doomed slave. It would have bolstered their courage. And with half the army on its way to Darmoor, and the commandant here in the field...
It was the perfect opportunity.
While the soldats around her paused, caught between their burning city, their homes and families, and their loyalty to their commandant, Asha turned to Kozu.
She thought of the pit and Torwin’s arrow pointed at her chest. Thought of what he’d say if he were here right now.
It was the same thing her heart said.
Get on the dragon, Asha.
Kozu looked at her. If she sealed the link, it would mean they were allies. And allying herself to her oldest enemy made Asha hesitate.
No,she thought, staring into his slitted yellow eye.You and I were never enemies.
Asha reached for his wing bone the way Torwin had reached for Shadow’s that day. Stepping into the crook of Kozu’s knee, she hoisted herself up onto the First Dragon’s back.
From this high up, Asha felt invincible. Lightning flashed above her. The blazing field sprawled out before her. And in the midst of the chaos, Jarek stared up at her, his eyes wide and afraid.
“Fly,” she told Kozu. “Fly far away from here.”
Jarek shouted orders to stop them, to kill the dragon. Kozustretched out his wings the way night stretches over the desert. But just as he leaped into the air, there came a sickening thud. Kozu roared and swooped sideways.
Asha slid but clung on. She looked down to find Jarek’s spear lodged in Kozu’s side.
No....
Thunder cracked as Asha reached for it, her hands gripping the smooth wood of the shaft. As she pulled, the pain of it made Kozu lurch. The earth surged toward them. The spear came out at the same time Kozu staggered, then lost his balance. They hit the ground and the force of Kozu’s momentum made him roll, pitching Asha from his back.
She heard a loudcrack!Smelled the earthy scent of esparto grass. And then: pain, bleeding through her.
The world went ink black.
Thirty-Two
Asha woke in a cell deep below her father’s palace.
She didn’t know how much time had passed. Didn’t know how much of the city had burned in the revolt.
Didn’t know if Kozu was dead or alive.
He can’t be dead, she told herself,or the stories would be too.
Chains streamed from her wrists and food came only occasionally. She gleaned information from her guards’ whispered conversations.
The revolt started in the furrow, they said. The furrow burned and the fire caught and spread through a quarter of the city. Hundreds of slaves escaped. Hundreds more draksors were missing too. The most notable among them were Dax and Safire. Witnesses said the heir and his cousin led both skral and draksors through the streets. Together, they overtook the gate, which allowed for so many to escape.
Days passed before the soldats came for her, unlocking her shackles and marching her up through the palace. By now,the new moon had come and gone. Three slaves waited in her room, their ankles chained together. The soldats stood at the door while the slaves washed away the dirt and grime from Asha’s body. She stared straight into the mirror, wondering how she’d ever been proud of the scar marring her skin.
The oldest slave stepped in front of her, severing the sight of her reflection and holding out the first layer of her dress. The gold piece. Asha didn’t step into it.
“If you refuse,” she whispered, her eyes averting Asha’s, “we will be punished.”
So Asha stepped into the gown—which had been resewn after her last fitting, when they’d cut her out of it—and threaded her arms through the slender sleeves. When they held up the white outer piece, she stepped into that too.
Half the night slipped away as they did up the multitude of tiny buttons at the back. When they finished the arduous work, they laced up the sash, pulling it tight. Last of all, they rimmed her eyes with kohl and smeared honey across her lips.
