My heart thundered, panic screaming through my veins. I would not die today. The roar of my heartbeat mixed with the hiss of dragonfire outside, distant screams rattling the air.
“I told you to surrender!” Tallon screamed, yanking me like a ragdoll. “But no—you have to do what you’ve always done and just fight!”
Brown eyes met mine. Greaves tightened his grip on his sword, lowering his gaze to my frantic hold on Tallon’s arm. My lungs burned; I choked for air, shuffling my feet to stay upright.
Tallon huffed, wrapping his hold around my waist to haul me higher—missing when I slid inside his grasp.
Warmth trickled down my neck, sending tremors through me. He would not kill me. I wouldn’t let him.
“Greaves!”
I shoved my hands up, forcing precious space between Tallon’s arm and my throat. The guard lunged, hand outstretched. Tallon’s blade seared a trail across my jaw and down my neck as I dropped my weight.
A streak of lightning bolted from Erwin’s palms, streaking past me. Tallon released me, and the rider planted himself between us, shielding me from attack. The Velli wrestled with Kallias, crimson splattering the canvas. Tallon became a blur streaking with speed as Greaves shifted to assist his king.
The ground trembled, and the tent ripped free, hurled across the plain by a blood-red dragon. Egath broke loose, then a black streak bolted for Tallon’s forces.
“Their ballistas!” Kallias bellowed, hand flung toward Reem.
Erwin twisted, keeping his body between me and the soldiers, bracing for their charge.
“Go!” I shoved his leg, hands gripping a chair to lift myself. My husband was at my side, Greaves in front, facing the oncoming men.
“Get her out of here!” Kallias scooped me up, cradling me against his chest as he jogged to Elmo’s foreleg. The dragon shifted, shielding us, and sent a stream of fire across the field.
“What about you?!” I pushed against him as he dropped me to the ground, gesturing toward the dragon’s paw. “Your armor and spear!”
“Have faith.” He paused, swiping a hand along my throat, grimacing. One palm pressed to the small of my back, urging me onto the dragon.
“Faith!?” I shrieked, but didn’t resist.
I climbed the wall of red scales, and Mikal grabbed my wrist, pulling me up. Nestled between the dragon’s neck and his chest, I had a perfect vantage of the battlefield.
Thousands poured across the flaxen fields, a wave crashing over sand. Some faltered, dragging their feet as if they wished to turn back. Dragonfire streaked the sky, beasts screaming in coordinated pairs. Breon and Matalino swept low, green and gold flashing, Radaanian colors igniting metal-clad soldiers.
Elmo spun away from Kallias and Greaves. The last glimpse of them: shoulder to shoulder, facing their foe.
“Find Tallon!” I shouted over the melee.
“He’s gone!”
Mikal’s arms wrapped around me, squeezing so tight my ribs protested. We launched into the sky, wings carving the burning plain.
I wheezed through clenched teeth, scanning the chaos in the direction he’d gone. “Where did he go?”
“You need a healer!”
Elmo banked toward our camp, our army galloping beneath to aid their king.
My dress was a sticky ruin, but the wound was superficial—if it were serious, I’d already be dead. I pressed a hand to the slash; fresh blood streaked my fingers.
I leaned against Mikal, clutching his leg to twist in the saddle. Our army swallowed Kallias and Greaves just as the two forces collided, a crack of destruction splitting the plains.
“Please,” I whispered. Where was he? Where was his god now? “Elohios, where are you?”
A splinter of light flickered. My chest sank.
“Elmo, bank!” I slammed a hand against the red scales, twisting further in Mikal’s grasp.
