Page 64

We slipped inside the cavernous bone shelter, one by one.

The interior smelled of ancient dust, cold calcium, and the faint, sweet scent of the silver river flowing just inches beneath the lower jaw. It felt strange, yet oddly secure to sit inside the mouth of a beast that could have swallowed our entire squad whole when it lived.

We collapsed against the hard bone walls, physical exhaustion catching up to us with devastating force. Dax slumped against a massive molar, his head falling back as he closed his eyes, his breathing heavy. Mal sat near the opening, his legs crossed, his broadsword resting across his lap as he assumed the first watch.

I slid down the curved inner wall of the snout, pulling my knees to my chest. Every single joint in my body felt ground down. I unlaced my leather gauntlets with trembling fingers, looking down at my left palm. The cut from the dagger had stopped bleeding, leaving a thick, dark scab across my skin, but the flesh around it was raw, tender, and flushed with heat.

A heavy, dark presence filled the small space beside me.

Caspian sank down onto the bone floor at my side, his broad frame instantly blocking out the draft blowing off the river. He didn’t say a word. He reached out, his long fingers wrapping around my ankles, pulling my legs over his lap without an ounce of hesitation. He began to strip my heavy boots off my feet, his calloused hands working the stiff, frozen laces with methodical efficiency.

“Caspian, I can—” I started, my voice raspy and thin.

“Quiet, Trouble,” he murmured, his voice wrapped around me like dark velvet stitched with iron. He pulled off my socks, exposing my cold toes to his touch. He cupped his warm hands over my bare feet, his palms radiating a furnace heat that sent a wave of relief tracking straight up my shins.

I let out a long, shuddering breath, my head falling back against the hard dragon bone behind me. I closed my eyes, letting the heat of his skin soak into my frozen bones, my guarded defenses completely useless against the physical comfort he offered.

“You did well today,” Caspian rasped softly, his thumbs rubbing firm, soothing circles into the arches of my feet. “Most high-borns would have broken on the beach.”

A faint, tired smirk touched my cracked lips. “I’m not a high-born princess, Captain. I’m mortal dirt. We’re harder to break.”

“No,” Caspian whispered, his voice dropping to a dark tone that made my heart stutter. “You are something far more dangerous. And this island knows it.”

Before I could process his words, before I could ask him what he meant by the look in his eyes at the altar, the quiet of the black forest was violently executed.

A sound tore through the distant canopy.

It was not the wind. It was not the grinding of the petrified trees.

It was a sharp, high-pitched, blood-curdling scream.

The sound carried across the miles of black woods with crystal-clear clarity. A male voice, raw with primal terror, shrieking a name that was instantly cut off by a brutal, heavy CRUNCH.

The sickening sound of snapping bone and tearing flesh echoed through the silent trees. Followed immediately by a deep, vibrating growl that made the fossilized skull we were sitting in vibrate against our backs.

Mal’s hand instantly locked around the hilt of his broadsword. Dax snapped his eyes open, his blades flashing in the silver light of the river. Caspian didn’t move, but his fingers tightened around my feet, his body locking into a rigid, lethal statue of pure tension.

We sat in absolute silence inside the dark mouth of the skull, holding our breath, listening to the distant sounds of a candidate being systematically devoured in the dark.

The first night on Isath Nalore had barely begun.

The sunset was gone, the dark had taken the forest, and the ancient lords of the sky had officially begun their cull. I stared out through the hollow fangs of the skull into the pitch-black woods, my hand slowly creeping down to lock around the hilt of my dagger, my blood running colder than the river flowing at our feet.

THIRTY-ONE

The quiet inside the skull didn’t fade; it was executed.

One second, the only sound was the low hum of the glowing river and the raspy rhythm of Mal’s breathing on watch. The next, the air pressure inside the bone cavern plummeted, making my ears pop with a sharp, metallic click.

The cold draft off the water vanished, replaced instantly by a suffocating vacuum that pulled the air straight from our lungs.

Mal didn’t even have time to yell a warning.

A shadow, vast and dark swept over the canopy. It didn’t roar. It moved with a low, heavy thrumming. The rhythmic beat of colossal wings pushing miles of freezing air ahead of it.

Then fire fell from the sky.

No screech preceded it. No warning flare in the clouds. The sky simply split open, raining a sheet of emerald-tinted flame directly into the black woods.