Iswearit happens again, even though he’s back to his perfectly composed self in the next instant, smiling his typical slight, annoyingly handsome smile. No fangs in sight.
“You worry about your own dragon,” he says, calmly removing my hand from his arm. “You needn’t be concerned about the others—or my city.”
I'm obviously not satisfied with this answer. But he’s started to walk at a quicker pace, and before I can find the nerve to demand a different response, we've reached the main courtyard, where there are countless guards and officials rushing about; chaos unfolding in measured, military precision. In no time at all, a pair of guards approaches the king and urgently requests his assistance.
He meets my gaze one last time. “Go back to your room.Stay out of the way. Stay…” He hesitates, pressing his lips together.
Whatever he just stopped himself from saying, I'll never know; someone calls his name, and he's walking away an instant later.
My body flushes hot, annoyed by his dismissal and the fact that I have, yet again, been left with more questions than answers. Not to mention, I feel like he should know by now that staying out of the way isn't exactly what I excel at.
For several minutes, I stand there watching the organized chaos building around me.
I look again to the distant sky, where more dragons are circling—too many to count now. The one that nearly attacked me is nowhere in sight, but I occasionally hear roaring, the sound oddly muffled among the clouds.
My thoughts are racing, an incoherent, tumbling river of questions and thoughts. But one word pounds loud and clear over all the other noise:Wrong.
And I swear it isn't just my voice repeating it over and over in my mind. There's a strange echo around that word, like someone else is thinking it alongside me. There’s a panic fluttering in my chest that feels too deep, too big to be mine alone.
I head inside and toward my room, as the king ordered, but that isn't where I end up.
Instead, I make my way through the palace, taking the most direct route to reach the coliseum behind it. I move quickly, trailing my hand along the walls to help me find my way in the dim lighting that makes my bad depth perception even worse. I pass several people, drawing countless stares, but I don’t slow down for any of them.
There are guards stationed at the entrance to thecoliseum; there always are, given that it's now serving as a makeshift dragon enclosure, too. I've previously seen figures moving along the rooftop as well, positioned with crossbows, ready to shoot anything that poses a threat. I've never been in the arena without being escorted by Commander Gareth, or surrounded by servants, but I've also never been explicitly told Icouldn'tcome here alone.
And King Reave did tell me to worry about my dragon, didn't he?
I march myself up to the guards at the entrance.
The two men exchange uncertain glances.
“The king has given me clearance to come and go as I please through here.” I make my voice as commanding as possible. “Unless you want to face his punishment, I suggest you step aside.”
They hesitate.
“Move,” I order.
I still don't think it's going to be enough—until Blight lends her own insistent roar, the sound nearly making them jump out of their armor, and I decide to try using our cursed bond to my advantage for once.
“I wouldn't keep a dragon from her bonded one if I were you,” I warn, darkly.
They exchange one last nervous look before shifting aside and allowing me to slip into the arena.
Blight settles almost the instant she catches sight of me, and now I'm certain of it: That panic I was feeling was hers.
And it was panic…for me.
Whatever is happening in the city, whatever threat is circling the palace walls, she seems convinced that I was in danger because of it.
She remains tense, even as I approach and tentativelyhold out my hand, letting her breathe in her fill of my scent. Her frill is raised, her wings slightly spread. Her eyes keep darting to the open roof above, tracking shapes that I can’t see.
“We're safe as long as we're in these walls,” I tell her, repeating the king's reassurance. “Don't worry.”
But the words did little to reassure me, and they don’t seem to have much effect on Blight, either.
We pass a tense hour in each other’s company.
I can't leave her.
