It's the same thing that kept him from being killed on the night of Emberfall, I realize.
Questions and frustration crowd together in my chest. “Will it protect him from me?” I wonder aloud. “What happens if I try to end this myself?” My voice grows quieter than I'd like toward the end, as the reality of what I'm actually asking settles over me.
Even after everything he's done—all the ways he's hurt and diminished and used me—the thought ofpersonallydriving a sword into the heart of the man I once loved makes me recoil.
Not to mention the other things that give me pause.
What happens to the mark and its magic if he dies? What happens tomebecause of our connection, because of those threads that still tie us together in ways I don't yet understand?
Sesca remains silent—the prickly, frustrated silence that means she doesn’t have a clear explanation to give. But beneath it, I sense her fear, and that's enough of an answer. Enough to tell me that nothing about the Flamebound mark and its magic will unravel simply.
Malachi glances back one last time as he walks away, a hint of a smirk crossing his face as his soldiers fold protectively around him. As if he's fully aware of what I've realized—that I can't end any part of this as quickly and cleanly as I'd like to.
I avert my gaze, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing my anger. Or my exhaustion, which is growing by the second, between the wings and the dragons and all these new, half-understood realizations pulling me in every direction at once.
Something tells me he's fully aware of that exhaustion, too.
Which is why I can't stay here.
I need to lead these dragons somewhere far from his reach while I can still manage it. I'm resigned to this, ready to dart upward and away and begin the long work of figuring out what comes next?—
Until I look down and see Reave standing in the same place as before, watching me.
All the world still seems to be lying in wait for my next move, but suddenly the only person I care about moving toward is him.
Sesca exhales and a warm wind rises beneath my wings like a gentle shove, filling them and nudging me forward.
Speak with the king, comes her voice.We'll keep you safe for a moment.
It seems like an impossible promise. Butsafeis exactly what I feel as I look back at her and the other dragons, and that feeling only grows when I look down and meet Reave's eyes again. The sight of him steadies something in me despite my exhaustion.
I'm nervous about trying to balance well enough to successfully plant my feet back on the ground, but I can't think of a safer place to land. Before I've fully decided to do it, I'm already gliding downward—touching down with as little control as expected, coming in far too fast, my feet tripping over themselves and the rest of me following in a graceless stumble.
Reave catches my hands and braces me through the entire clumsy landing, walking backwards until my momentum slows enough that we can both find our footing.
We go still together, hands clasped, breathing the same air for a few stolen moments. His eyes move over me, careful and thorough even as the battle continues to grind on around us.
“You're bleeding,” he says.
I give him a crooked little smile. “Really? That's what you notice first? Not the fact that I've suddenly gained wings?”
He mirrors my smile, though his is fainter. Shorter-lived. “Those just seem like a natural extension of you. Much less alarming than the blood, somehow.” He starts to reach toward one of the scarlet stains on my shirt, but I catch his hand and gently guide it away.
“There's no time.” I keep my hand around his, squeezingtightly as I glance at the dragons holding their loose formation above us. “I'm controlling them now, but I don't know how much longer I can manage it. Malachi is still exerting pressure through the mark, and whatever divine power we share is preventing me from setting them on him directly. I don't know what will happen to me if we do attack him, either—but I don't think there's a simple way of ending this.”
In that instant, the horrible truth of what we’re facing settles like a physical thing on my shoulders, heavy enough that it might have brought me to my knees if not for the steadying touch of Reave’s hand in mine.
“But without the dragons,” I continue, “your army far outnumbers his, and he knows it. He'll retreat if I lead them away. If there are other divine-blooded dragons lingering near your city, I'm going to do what I can to pull them away too, so he can't use them as weapons against you.”
“And you…”
I look at our intertwined fingers instead of his face.
“You're leaving.”
I force my gaze up again. “He can use me as a weapon too. He was able to siphon more power through the mark earlier, and even my proximity to him makes him more dangerous, I think. If I stay, I put you and everyone else at risk.”
He inhales deeply, seemingly searching for some argument—any argument at all—but not finding one.
