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“Fall, you bastard,” I whispered, my palms tingling against Kage’s fur. “Burn and fall.”

Viktor roared, and I shivered. His dragon tail whipped, his ruined wing convulsing and shriveling in on itself. Then, in a rush of smoke and embers, the Inferni began to drop. He pitched down, nose first, spiraling once, twice, flames streaming from his wounds like a corrupted falling star.

My eyes widened. “Kage!”

The trajectory of his fall was clear—Viktor would land at the bottom of the hill, no more than a hundred paces down the slope from us.

The great silver wolf spun, paws skidding on loose stones in his eagerness. We bolted down the hillside towards the descending dragon.

CHAPTER 37

FLORENCE

For one brief moment, I thought we’d done it. Nyxaris’s last blast had left Viktor aflame. The Inferni was reeling and shrieking.

Blake was gone. We’d defeated Vorago. Now Viktor was falling, too.

Neville shivered against my breast. The fluffin let out a strangled whimper.

“What—” I started to say.

The sky split. A red shape shot up from below us.Viktor drove himself upwards with murderous speed, ramming his jaws straight into Nyxaris’s throat. My dragon roared.The impact snapped through the Duskdrake’s body. I felt his pain echo through my ribs and screamed.

“Nyxaris!” I could hear the scales snap. Feel the hot blood as it splattered across my cheeks.

Fireheart … Nyxaris’s voice was strangled.

“Hold on!” I clamped Neville to my chest, fishing for a Godsbane bolt.

Breathe. Steady, now, I warned myself. This is no time to mess up. I wedged the crossbow over the dragons’ ridge, scanning the Inferni as he banked away from Nyxaris. There: a patch of scar tissue where Viktor’s corrupted scales overlapped.

I squeezed. The bolt slammed home, just below his sternum.

Viktor recoiled with a screech, diving away. Nyxaris’s blood was flowing heavily, streaming down his neck. But he wasn’t backing down. His chest inflated, every plate along his neck suddenly glowing furnace-bright. An inferno erupted from his jaws. Flames wrapped across Viktor’s left wing, the membrane instantly catching the blaze.

The Inferni beat his wings, desperately trying to smother the fire, but the Godsbane I’d shot into him was tunneling through his blood, slowing him down. A hole slowly formed, getting larger and larger. Viktor lurched, lost lift, and began to wobble. First a slight topple, then a sudden plunge. Down, down he fell, towards the city below.

“You did it,” I breathed. “Nyxaris, you did it!”

I waited for him to turn, to dive, to follow Viktor down to the ground so we could finish him off once and for all. But my dragon didn’t answer.

Beneath my palms, I suddenly realized his scales were slick. Nyxaris, talk to me.

I peered over the curve of his neck, Neville still whimpering against me. Blood poured from the gash Viktor’s fangs had opened. The wound smelled strange. Foul. Wrong. Gallons of dragon blood poured out, falling onto the city below.

I felt choked with panic. Nyxaris, you’re wounded. We need to get you down to the ground. Land. Land now.

Fireheart, he rasped, you are safe. That is … sufficient.

That’s not sufficient for me. I don’t care about Viktor. I care about you. Now, land, dammit.

Nyxaris began to drop. A pulse of amusement brushed my thoughts. Very well, little rider. I shall obey.

For once in your life, I muttered, trying to make him laugh. But no such luck. His breathing had grown unsteady. I closed my eyes, matching my breaths to his—steady where they were broken, trying to force him to match my rhythm. His wings angled downwards as we flew towards the edge of the city.We circled, then landed in an open field.

I slid from his back, opening my arms to catch Neville as he jumped. My crossbow fell at the ground at my feet, the instrument of violence suddenly feeling unwelcome and unnecessary.

Talk to me. I moved to Nyxaris’s head, wiping my blood-soaked hands on my thighs, then running them gently over his scales. How bad is it? The dragon’s head lowered until the tip of his muzzle rested in the trampled grass. I pressed both palms to the great line of his jaw, feeling the warm blood seeping through my fingers, then leaned down, resting my forehead against his warm snout. How bad is the bite? I whispered. Tell me, Nyxaris. Fireheart, such worry does not suit you.