Page 158 of Under Restless Skies

He eyes me with a soft expression on his face. “You look pretty like that, you know? All obedient and humble. Keep going, and I’ll free you.”

He walks away again. The water was barely enough to quench my thirst, and my mouth is still horrifically dry.

Will he be cruel and let me die? Does he want me to beg for the mercy of a cold blade?

By this time, Mallor knows I didn’t run away, but I doubt he can do anything. I’m on my own, under Alayel’s whims—and he’s completely insane.

Thunder cracks in the sky, and I look outside. At least I’ll get to see the spectacle of thunder and lightning over the bay. A raindrop splatters the window, followed by more and more, until it sounds as if the ocean is in the sky, while thunder roars outside.

Not thunder. Another type of roar.

Can it be?

26

Ashadow passes by the window, massive and slow against the gray curtain of rain, and I wipe the foggy glass to see better. A purple head. Scales that bleed from violet to black along the body.

My dragon.

A tingling warmth moves through me, a soothing balm that starts in my chest where his tongue once dragged a slow, warm line. I press my hand flat against the cool glass and feel my whole body uncoil, free from the inner chains that had been tight around my heart.

Unless… Could it be that my hunger-addled mind is conjuring images? I blink hard, then look back at the window, half-expecting the shape to be gone, dissolved back into the rain and my own desperation.

The dragon is gone. My ribs feel tight, caging me in.

I’m still staring at the empty sky when the windows on the other side of the room explode inward, a shower of glass and splintered wood pelting the floor.

A rider jumps in. The rider. The one who almost killed me. The one who left the staff for me. My heart beats fast, a frantic drumbeat of terror and hope all at once. Carrying no magical artifact, he’s wearing a sleeveless robe, his long, black hair drenched with the rain.

He looks like a strange illusion, impossibly majestic in this room, and yet when he strides toward me, powerful and menacing like a dragon, my body recoils, the memory of his mortal blast still vivid in my flesh.

Despite my tremor, another feeling, much greater than fear, washes through me: relief. The little dragons. If anyone can get them out, it’s him.

“I tried,” I mutter. “To save the hatchlings. I don’t know where they are now.”

My stomach lurches as I realize I can’t help him, can’t even give him a single clue on how to save little Ava and Vos, and can’t tell him where the staff is. By Vigorlu, I’m so useless.

He crouches in front of me, close enough that I can see the rain still beaded on his lashes, his gaze like two sharp knives holding me in place. “You’re going to have to try harder.”

His voice is a quiet, comforting rumble, moving inside me like waves in the ocean, much unlike the cutting tone he had last time—when I stopped him from saving the little dragons.

I push away the sudden burst of shame and focus. He wouldn’t be here if there was no solution. “What do you need from me?”

“Get the staff.” His tone is curt, matter-of-fact, as if he had issued a perfectly reasonable request.

I shake my shackled hands, as it’s clear he hasn’t noticed them. “How exactly?”

His stare makes me feel like a clueless child.

“Call the staff,” he says slowly, as if his speaking speed somehow made his words any more plausible.

“How?” I insist, a short huff leaving my lips.

He gets up all at once, his fists clenched, and shoots me a dark glare. “You have no idea?”

What did he expect? It’s not like he left the staff with any instructions—but I don’t want to confront him. “Maybe you could explain?” My mouth’s so dry it hurts to speak. “And get me some water? Please?” I point at the jug on the counter.

He moves swiftly, smells the water and shakes his head, then, after looking at the room, he crouches again in front of me. With his fingers around his long, wet hair, he squeezes it near my face—water dripping into my lips. The tips of his strands are blue, and the water falling from them feels fresh and delicious like rain.