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“Mad, thanks for volunteering. I think that would have been even bloodier if you weren’t around.” Ignoring Maddox’s astonishment, she stared at the two men. “So, who won?”
“Saph—”
“I want an answer. Who won?”
Silence.
“Klaus,” Silver said grudgingly.
“Okay. Silver, I hope that means all the challenges against Klaus are over. And Klaus…” She met his gaze, shutting down the swirl of triumph and guilt in his eyes. “I hope there’s no more proving your worth because that’s just an insult to what we have already become to each other. And no hovering. If anyone hovers over me one more time, I will automatically assume they think I’m a weakling. It’s your choice if you want me to think I’m a weakling.”
No one spoke, not even Klaus, who looked like he had a lot to say. Rosa gave her a look of approval while Silver hung his head.
“I need some time alone,” she declared. “When I get back, let’s have a peaceful dinner.”
She walked back to the castle, relieved when she wasn’t followed. The talk with Rosa had kept most of her anger at bay, mostly because she could see where the fight had come from even while she didn’t tolerate it. Still, she needed a clear mind—somewhere Klaus wouldn’t deem to look for her, and somewhere she could sort out her ruminations and feelings.
Sapphire found her spot in one of the towers, choosing the one on the farthest wing. There was a singular bed and stacks of chests off to the side. Clothes folded neatly told her he used to land here often and shift to human form before he headed downstairs. She smiled at the gemstones scattered about, forgotten in corners and crevices, then chuckled at the pots of seeds.
“More flowers?”
She turned them over and spotted the labels, confirming her suspicion. Her heart swelled, loving that he was planning on making the garden more colorful. Shamelessly, she rummaged around the space for more seeds and ended up toppling over a stack of books. She bent over to pick them up, then paused when her gaze caught the sight of a necklace lying in the corner.
“Another gift?” she mused, picking it up instead.
As soon as she did, smoke curled around her and a glow blinded her from the outside world. Awareness swept in that she had been slung into a magical setting, one similar to Broom’s Isle’s magic balls that allowed the one who broke it to see the owner’s memories. This one felt like looking into Klaus’s as she watched him in his cave, surrounded by his treasures and bending over from the pain. Before him stood a cloaked figure, whose scrawny hands reached out toward his head.
“Don’t touch me,” he growled, voice sharp with a warning. The coldness in it had Sapphire shivering.
“I need to touch you to know.”
It was the seer, her mind surmised, as Klaus visibly reined in his defensiveness and crawled forward. Scales fell and his hide cracked.
“Make it fast.”
“You saved my life, so I’m returning the favor and letting you know everything. It’s the only way I can help you.”
The seer’s hand landed on his head, where it brightened and sparked. Ordinary brown eyes turned white and the seer’s voice became something else, holding an energy that even Sapphire could feel through the memory. The magic spoke everything else that Klaus had excluded from telling her when he had told her about the seer, and she heard it all now: that trouble was coming, yes, but it wasn’t as simple as that.
Every second that you wait, you will die. Beware. Trouble will come and the forces of evil will be stronger than ever. You might not survive it alone this time.
Every year that there is no offspring, you will be weaker. It’s how your Oslo bloodline works and why your ancestors ensured there was always one dragon survivor after them. It’s a tradition you can’t break.
Every year you are alone, your dragon will be reduced to a state of helplessness until it’s too late. Every year you delay it, you will no longer be able to hide your true self from the world. You will be left with nothing.
The magic stopped as abruptly as it started and the seer fell back, visibly weakened by the energy used. Klaus was trembling, and still flaking off, but he fought it as he looked up at the seer.
“That’s my prophecy?”
“Your father was the weakest in the line,” the seer predicted. “Thus, you are falling apart earlier than they were.”
“Prophecies aren’t guaranteed,” he insisted.
“Sometimes they are.”
“How do I watch my back?”
“Make bonds. Keep a close eye on your enemies, maybe even get them to your side. I can’t guarantee that will keep trouble away, but I can guarantee that if you’re not ready, you will suffer—and the lands you are trying so hard to protect will suffer with you.”
