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I waited for the inevitable word. When it didn’t come, I felt oddly disappointed. “Aren’t you going to say it?” I teased.

Blake was quiet for a long time.

“I’m not sure what you want to hear, but … I know I owe you an apology beyond words.”

I froze. This wasn’t what I’d been expecting. That didn’t mean it was unwelcome either.

“I owe you an apology today and every single other fucking day for the rest of our lives.” I felt him give a choked laugh as he held me. “However long that might be.”

I frowned, disliking the bleakness I heard there. The hint of hopelessness. That wasn’t the Blake I knew.

Before I could stop myself, it slipped out. “I think I already have.”

I felt him turn his head, trying to look down at me. “What?”

My lips suddenly felt dry. I licked them carefully. “Forgiven you, you idiot. I think I already have.”

He stayed silent. Good. I kept going. “Besides, I’m not the only one who’s lost something, am I? Aenia. I’m … truly sorry, Blake. I’m sorry about your sister.”

His gaze dropped. The fire was still there between us. But it was calmer now. A fire you could hold in a hearth. Not the raging forest fire it had been a few moments before. “I never expected … this,” Blake said, his voice low. “With you. Ever again.”

I pushed away from him a little, so I could tilt my head up and see his face. One eye was stormy gray. The other was … ravaged. He might have chosen to wear a patch over it. But so far, he hadn’t. It was just like Blake not to bother trying to put others at ease with the truth of his appearance. I traced the outline of his eye socket with a fingertip, very gently. “I feel like I’m burning alive when I’m with you,” I whispered. “And the worst part is … I don’t care. I don’t want it to stop.” I shook my head. “Even after all the shit that’s happened between us.”

Blake nudged my forehead gently with his, his breath mingling softly with mine. The gesture was tender, almost dragonlike. “You’re the only part of this place that doesn’t feel toxic, Pen-dragon,” he whispered back. “You’re the only thing that feels real.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “Being with you makes me want to believe I can be something better than what I’ve been.”

My heart ached at the stark honesty in his words. I reached up, fingers brushing along the line of his jaw, lingering on the scars that still marred his face. Every mark a story that had led us here, every scar a sign of how much he was willing to sacrifice for my sake. “You already are,” I whispered.

His eyes softened, gray eyes less stormy, and I told myself the red I’d glimpsed in them earlier had just been my imagination. Blake was not Viktor. It was only my fear that was causing me to see a resemblance where there was none.

We lay together, breathing slowly, the moment a temporary peace in a little hidden corner of our chaotic world.

CHAPTER 8

FLORENCE

I was a coward. I knew it. My mother probably knew it, even if she’d never, ever in a million years dream of using the word. Even the fluffin sitting on my feet knew it.

I scratched Neville’s head, and the fluffin purred loudly, his entire little body rumbling with contentment. For a moment, I envisioned becoming a fluffin, with all the sunbeams, snacks, and naps I could dream of. But I wasn’t a fluffin. I wasn’t even me anymore. I was something else now. Something new. A rider.

The word felt frightening, even said silently in my own head. It wasn’t my word. It wasn’t me. Rider was a word that belonged to Medra. To someone brave and bold and daring. Someone who wasn’t afraid of climbing onto a scaled monster who breathed fire.

Books belonged to me. Hot tea belonged to me. Endless projects and extra-credit assignments belonged to me. They were what I lived for. I was supposed to be a strategist. Or a healer. Or preferably both. I’d live my days inside, very safely, in rooms full of books, studying ancient battles or testing new remedies. Of course, I’d venture out to my garden or greenhouse from time to time. Plants and books were far safer than a dragon. Anything was safer than a dragon.

I glanced across the room where my mother sat hunched over on a pink-and-green floral sofa, surrounded by a pile of books, nibbling on the tip of a quill. Her cup of tea rested on a small table, still full. Completely cold, of course. I looked at my own cup—also cold, but only half-full.

I had three books open in front of me and a quill in my hand. I was supposed to be writing an essay for Professor Allenvale’s class, extra credit to make up for the fact that I hadn’t actually attended any classes since … since it had happened.

I’d made my mother bring notes to my professors, notes in which I’d lied and said I was ill. It was childish and immature and silly. But knowing that hadn’t stopped me.

Only Professor Rodriguez knew what had really happened. And Kage. Thankfully, my House Leader hadn’t pressed me to come back to the Avari tower; he’d left me alone.

But I knew he would come eventually. I couldn’t stay hidden away in my mother’s suite of rooms forever. I’d have to return to class soon, unless I wanted to flunk out of Bloodwing entirely. And considering the possible consequences, that wasn’t an option.

I leaned forward to ruffle Neville’s fur again, and the fluffin lifted his head, opened one eye, and peered at me. He’d been a faithful companion since the incident in the Dragon Court.

If I were to ever write a murder mystery, that’s what I’d call it, I decided: The Incident in the Dragon Court. It had a nice ring to it. There would be no actual dragons in said book, only murders. Even murders were safer than dragons.

I flinched suddenly as a sensation hit me. A scent. Fresh fish, filling my nose. I supposed I should be grateful it wasn’t filling my mouth. I wrinkled my nose, but there was nothing I could do. I hadn’t been able to block Nyxaris out. Not completely. He’d reached out to me once. I’d ignored him. Pretended I couldn’t hear him. He hadn’t tried again since that first time. He hadn’t needed to. Because I could feel him there always, sense him even without trying. Even if he wasn’t trying to speak to me, I knew where he was. Knew when he was flying over the island, when he was curling up for the night on a ledge on the cliffs above the sea. I could even sense emotions sometimes. Right now, he was content; the fish were delicious.