Selling yourself short again, I see,the demon sighed.A nobody doesn’t attract the attention of Oracles and Collectors and archdemons. A nobody doesn’t make powerful heirs huddle around her, unable to take their eyes off her. You need to break that pattern, girl. Own your truth, and only then…
A thought surfaced, cold and clear.
Was that why my parents had hidden me? Not just the disguise, not just the mine, but the depth of it—burying me so far underground that even a woman who could see across worlds couldn’t find me?
“And now he has Max’s sister as a hostage to draw her out,” Caspian said, his green eyes on fire.
The image of Missy’s face in the Oracle’s black eyes came back before I could brace for it. Her tiny hands reaching. Her desperate scream,“Max! Max!”
Icy terror lunged for my chest. My lungs tightened, the edges of my vision blurring.
No.
I dug my nails into my kneecaps. The pain cut through the panic. I forced air in—four counts, hold, four counts out—and held the terror at arm’s length until it subsided.
I wasn’t going to fall apart again. Falling apart wouldn’t bring Missy back.
Tears slid down my face anyway. But crying silently was different from coming apart at the seams. I could grieve and still plan.
“How did Xander even learn about Max?” Drakken asked, his brow creased. “It shouldn’t be possible?—”
“You forget he has the Oracle’s head,” Caspian said, rolling his eyes. “She must have told Xander about Max, then turnedaround and warned Max about Xander. Playing both sides for her own agenda. Classic.”
I let that sink in. It made a terrible kind of sense. The Oracle had been the one to reveal me to the Collector in the first place, then used that same knowledge as currency to reach me—to build a bridge, to buy her own chance at freedom. The logic of a prisoner with nothing left to barter except information.
“But how did the Collector even get to Missy in Crimson Ridge?” I asked. The words scraped past the lump in my throat. “The fences are warded. The watchtowers are manned. The White Witch’s reinforced military runs the perimeter. It shouldn’t be possible for anyone to breach it.”
“Xander has spies everywhere,” Drakken said, his voice less accusing now. “He doesn’t need to breach anything. A bribed guard, a distracted patrol, one man picking up a small girl—no one would even notice. The snatcher wouldn’t need to cross east through the Scorched Wastes the way you did. They could go west into Nevada, south through Arizona to the New Mexico border, then into Xander’s territory in Texas. Long route, but clean. No fences. No checkpoints.”
He’d mapped it without thinking. His warrior’s mind putting the pieces together. I hated that his answer was competent. I hated that it made me trust his analysis even as I wanted to throw something at his head.
“It doesn’t matter how they took her,” I said, pinning Drakken with a stare and meeting his gray eyes straight on. The hurt from his earlier words was still hot in my chest, and it wanted an outlet. “The Collector has my sister, and I’m going to get her. You can think I staged a vision to trick you into crossing into the Haven.” I threw up a hand. “I don’t care what you think, and I don’t need you. Trap or not, I’ll go alone. The border between the Zodiac Covenant and the Haven isn’t like theScorched Wastes. There aren’t packs of mutants every mile. I’ll manage. I’ll get in, find Missy, and bring her back.”
Drakken shifted against the tent pole, the muscles in his forearms taut, and a sardonic smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. I tried not to stare at his lips that could promise a woman all manner of sinful things.
“You sure you can handle it alone, Cadet Max?” His voice dropped low, almost silky and designed to provoke.
The dragon is trying to distract you from your fear and grief,the demon observed, as if it had finished a long, cold assessment.
I sneered at them both. The demon preferred the dragon prince because he was like it—vicious and volatile.
“Don’t worry, sir.” I lifted my chin. “I have a weapon better than any blade in the Covenant’s armory.”
The Coldiron arrow I’d caught between my palms on the train roof now wrapped around my forearm as an armguard.
“You’re the last person I’d ask for help.” I should have stopped there. But I didn’t. “And I’m not a drama queen, unlike your girlfriend—Delia, isn’t it?—or a drama king like you. I’m happy for you both, really. You deserve each other. A perfect match made…somewhere.” I wasn’t going to say heaven. They didn’t deserve heaven. “And one day you’ll even have a drama baby. A little drama prince.”
The tent went quiet.
Aelindor arched an eyebrow, half-amused, half-concerned. Caspian blinked, as though he’d never expected those words to come out of my mouth.
Drakken’s sardonic smile vanished. His eyes turned gold for a second before the gray slid back in.
I was beyond caring. I wanted to lash out, and the dragon prince had put himself in the line of fire.
Then, to my shock, Drakken laughed. Truly laughed. I didn’t know he was capable of that sound.
“You’re jealous,” he said.
