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It was as if I’d fired a crossbow at him. He stiffened, his wings locking. For one terrifying instant, we began to plummet. Wind tore at my hair. I wrapped myself around him, heart slamming against scales. I screamed, clutching at his neck, the ground spinning up in a blur. Then, at the last second, he caught himself. Wings beating rapidly, we leveled out, meters above the water.

My heart hammered as loudly as the wind in my ears. We don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry for asking.

Too late. His voice was ragged.

I swallowed, a chill spreading through my veins. Nyxaris, what is it? What did you remember?

He flew in silence for several moments. I killed my rider.

I stilled. What?

Not in the way you are thinking. She was killed because of me. I recall it. I recall … everything.

I’m so sorry, I whispered.

Afterward, he went on, ignoring me, I began to question … everything. The house I served. Our cause. All that had been demanded of us.

We reached the shore and began to cross over a forest of pine trees.

Molindra …

Yes? I encouraged, my heart beating faster.

She came to me. She offered me a new purpose. But in return …

I touched his scales gently, my throat tight. Yes? In return?

In return, I gave up everything.

A chill came over me as I finally understood. You mean you sacrificed yourself? Is that it? You and the other three dragons?

His only reply was a low rumble—half grief, half rage.

You don’t have to tell me, I said quickly. We don’t have to talk about it anymore. But I couldn’t help myself. Do you remember why you decided being turned to stone was, well, worth it?

It was meant to change things. And yet when I awoke, the dragons were gone, and the highbloods still ruled. I was quiet for a while. Nyxaris stayed silent, too, clearly brooding about what we’d just discussed.

Had my dragon been a rebel? I thought of the soulbound high-blood rider he’d had before; she must have been his very last rider.The one whose death he felt responsible for. He must have cared for her very much to make such a drastic sacrifice. Of course a soul-bound rider would have been preferred by highbloods—no wonder Viktor wished he could do the same to me. A highblood would be able to use battle magic in ways I wouldn’t.They healed faster.They’d have numerous advantages. Or did they lose some of those advantages when they stole a blightborn body?

I touched my ears. The points were becoming sharper, more fine. Was my body changing in other ways? I thought of Medra’s fingers and toes. They were longer than a typical blightborn’s. I considered asking Nyxaris and decided to take the risk.

Medra has the red hair of a rider … I began to say.

Red, yes, he rumbled. The other dragon was red.

Other dragon? What other dragon? I assumed he’d remembered something else from his past.

I saw another dragon the other day.

My heart sped up. Molindra?

No, not Molindra. He sounded peevish, irritable.

Another dragon? How is that possible? Where? I said in disbelief.

While flying. It was … unsettling. And yet, I know what I saw. For a moment, I believed he was Vorago.

He? You could tell it was male?