Page 34 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

Ferrula faltered. Her sword trembled in her hands, her blank stare flickering like a candle in the wind.

Inderia stepped toward her, voice commanding. “You must listen to me!”

Ferrula’s body jerked, and then she screamed. It was raw, guttural, tearing from her throat as her blade swept in a wide, uncontrolled arc.

Duck! Kaelith’s roar tore through my mind, and I dropped low without thinking.

The blade missed me by inches, the air hissing above my head. But the force of Ferrula’s swing carried it too far and Inderia had stepped in too close.

The steel kissed across her chest in a vicious, diagonal slice.

She gasped, stumbling back, her hands clutching the wound. Her knees hit the stone with a dull thud.

“No,” she breathed, eyes wide and frantic. “Severeth—help me!”

For a heartbeat, the blood held, the wound puckered and trembled under some unseen force. And then it gave way.

A hot rush of crimson poured through her fingers, spilling down the front of her gown, pooling dark against the pale stone.

The surrounding magic fractured, then died altogether. The oppressive air in the cavern lifted, leaving only the sound of her ragged breathing.

I stepped closer, my grip tightening on my blade. “Your master abandoned you.”

Her lips curled weakly, her voice a ragged croak. “This… isn’t over. Not for you.”

Her eyes glazed even as the words left her mouth. Then she pitched forward, her face hitting the stone with a hollow crack.

Inderia was dead.

I dropped to a knee beside Ferrula, my hand resting on her uninjured shoulder. “Are you alright?”

She was pale beneath the sweat and grime, but her eyes were clear now, hers again. “Narvea swamped my mind,” she said, her voice low, still rough. “She gave me enough of my own will to swing the blade, but… I almost killed you.”

“That wasn’t you,” I said firmly. “That was dark magic. And you fought it.”

Ferrula gave a slow nod, though her jaw tightened. “We needed her alive,” she muttered, glancing at Inderia’s lifeless body. “She was our only link to Severeth.”

I let out a slow breath, my gaze hardening. “I’m sure that’s exactly why Severeth let her die. She feared what Inderia would tell us if she lived.”

Ferrula pushed herself to her feet with a grunt, sheathing her blade. “Let’s go tell Zander what happened.”

A pulse along the bond with Kaelith made me glance toward the tunnel. “He already knows,” I said. “But we should get back and regroup.”

Ferrula gave one last look at the pool chamber, then turned toward the darkened tunnel. Together, we started the long walk back, our footsteps echoing off the stone—two survivors with more questions than answers.

Chapter

Eleven

Ferrula and I emerged from the tunnel into the crisp air, the sunlight almost blinding after the gloom of the pool chamber. The courtyard stretched before us, and it was clear word had traveled—at least among the dragons.

Most of Thrall Squad had returned, their dragons restless in the perches above. Naia stood with Jax, heads bent in low conversation, while Tae and Cordelle lingered near the steps, both of them looking toward us expectantly.

Before I could speak, Kaelith’s voice rolled through my mind like warm thunder. The spell is broken. The king is waking.

I froze mid-step, my gaze snapping to Zander. He was already watching me from across the courtyard, his posture alert. Our eyes met, and the bond between us thrummed with urgency.

Come with me, he said, his voice low but firm.