Page 91 of The Infirmary for Dragon Burns and Midair Mishaps

“I just don’t want you to spend the rest of your life disappointed or resenting me or⁠—”

Vaela stroked my cheek, tucking a few loose hairs behind my ear. “I’ve wrangled the Wretch. Nothing else can possibly top that for as long as I live.”

“I suppose that’s true. You’ll never find a bigger dragon.”

“Exactly. And I want to retire on a high note. Go down in glory as the Wretch Wrangler.”

I laughed, turning my head to kiss her palm. “We’ll discuss the name.”

Vaela rolled her eyes. “My point is, I want to spend the rest of my life chasing another kind of thrill.” She tugged me close, hands curling around my waist. “The thrill of loving you.”

“Eden!”

I glanced up the path to find Poppy coming our way. She wore slippers and a singed coat thrown over her nightdress. “Nisse sent me to find you! Come quickly!”

I glanced at Vaela with concern, then hurried up the path, chasing her all the way to the ruins of the infirmary. Poppy didn’t stop there, however, but continued down the path toward Bramble Cottage.

My heart stopped as I rounded the bend. Bramble Cottage was gone, burnt to the ground, with a crowd of people gathered and sharp voices shouting. By the stars, what was going on?

We slowed, coming upon the crowd. It was a mix of kingsguard, townsfolk, and the crew from the infirmary.

“What is it?” I whispered to Nisse as we joined the back of the party.

“Tell me who it is!” the captain of the kingsguard roared. His face was soot-stained, his armor singed in places, warped in others. “Step forward, traitor!”

And then I saw what he held in his hands. It was the dragon scale armor Vaela and I had been working on before the Wretch’s escape. It had survived the flames.

Even as Bramble Cottage burned around it, the armor had been left in perfect condition.

“It worked,” I gasped, stepping forward, drawn to the sight. A mix of excitement and disbelief coiled inside me. It had actually worked!

Nisse latched onto my arm, squeezing to the point of pain. I hissed, breaking from the spell as she gave me a look that said to keep quiet.

“Sir,” Trystan barked from the front of the crowd. “Haven’t these folks been through enough? Perhaps we can⁠—”

“Tell me who lived here!” the captain bellowed. “Who defied the high laws?” He laid his hand on the top of his longsword. “Or do I have to start questioning people?”

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t let that happen. The people of Ember Ridge had already endured too much. I couldn’t make them suffer anymore because of me. The armor was my idea, my special project. No one else’s.

I glanced back at Vaela. She gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of her head.

“I have to,” I whispered, wanting to tell her how sorry I was, wanting to hug her once more before I handed myself over.

“Eden, no,” she hissed. “Don’t be foolish.”

I stepped away to weave my way through the crowd, to take responsibility for the crime, but before I could, Gunther raised his arm.

“No!” I cried, lunging for him as my heart plummeted into my stomach. He wouldn’t… He couldn’t do this to me.

Nisse and Vaela caught me by the arms, holding me back.

“It’s mine,” Gunther called. “The armor is my doing.”

Tears sprang to my eyes as I watched the captain shove the armor at one of his soldiers. “Take him into custody,” he ordered, pointing right at Gunther. “You’ll answer to the crown for your crimes, old man.”

I wrenched free of the hold, diving through the crowd, latching onto Gunther’s back. “Don’t do this,” I begged, whirling him around to catch him in a crushing hug. “Let me. It was my idea.”

He pulled back, hand pressed to my cheek. “Don’t fret over me, my girl. I’ll be fine.”