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Some of them scream as the mountain vanishes beneath their feet and they fall into the purple-tinged emptiness. Some clasp hands and fall together, their fingers intertwined. Those who try to run mostly fall backward, their arms and legs pinwheeling against the encroaching darkness. One man throws his sword into the air, and it flashes in the strange amethyst light before descending after him, vanishing into the nothingness swallowing the ridge.
Something bitter rises in the back of my throat, and for a moment I think I’m going to be sick. The rip in reality spreads across the ridge like the rising tide devours the beach. Those thick black stalks that I’d taken for smoke now crawl along the edges of the jagged hole, creeping forward, wrapping around the human soldiers who try to flee and dragging them under.
I can’t watch. I turn away, my gut clenching like a fist, my jaw tight against the bile seeping into the back of my throat. Phaedron’s father grins at me like all the monsters from all of my childhood nightmares. I sink my fingernails into my palms and stare at the dirt beneath my boots.
The stories never described what it was like when the Kingdom of the Fall marched into the Lands Below. Our legends claim it was Rensivar the Wicked, the great black dragon, who defeated our enemies and forced them into exile. Nine hells, there’s even a tapestry in Princess Elanerill’s tower that shows Rensivar sitting on a mountain, his triumphant wings spread wide, as an army of ugly, evil-looking soldiers march into the darkness beneath his claws.
Those stories never mentioned tentacles. They didn’t say whether or not the defeated soldiers held each other’s hands, threw their swords, or screamed as the earth opened up beneath them. And, stars, it wasn’t just soldiers who were forced into the Lands Below, was it? King Grathgore and Rensivar trapped an entire kingdom beneath the earth, men, women, and children alike, using the magic Phaedron’s father created and then sold to the dragon.
The legends say it was Rensivar who opened the hole in the world that led to the Lands Below, and Rensivar who forced the Kingdom of the Fall to walk through it. I turn slowly, my body shivering despite the heat of dragonfire still dancing through the air. Rowan stands wrapped in chains, blue flames pouring from his face, his lips twisted into a defiant scowl. His father stands beside him with his arms crossed over his chest, smiling at the unfolding carnage like a rich man sitting down for a feast prepared by his slaves.
I feel sick. The mountain tilts, then trembles, and I struggle not to fall to my knees. How did I ever imagine I could trick this man? What kind of an idiot am I to think he’d drop his guard long enough to be trapped by his own sleep magic?
The dragon Rensivar growls something above us. His voice booms off the mountainside, and it almost sounds like he said the wordfriends. I shake my head. Stars above, I must be losing whatever was left of my mind. I try to breathe as Rensivar howls at the wounded and terrified dragons, demanding to know why they couldn’t defend themselves.
A bronze dragon steps into the meadow, strutting and howling his approval for whatever it was Rensivar just said, and Rensivar slowly lands on the grass just outside the little pine grove. Most of the dragons pull back as his ebony claws sink into the grass. I freeze. Rensivar the Wicked is so close I can see the outline of each of his scales.
Something snaps in the forest behind us. Varitan gasps, a sharp, sudden inhale.
And a dragon steps into the clearing beneath the trees. This dragon is in her human form, with long red hair and a dirt-streaked soldier’s uniform, but she’s unmistakably a dragon. The smoke-filled air shimmers around her, as though the force of draconic magic is bending the very light.
Varitan makes a sound, like a low growl, and my fingers tug the cloth-wrapped gold coin from my waistband almost before my mind can catch up to my actions. I spin toward Phaedron. Our eyes meet.
Here’s our distraction.
Chapter38
Phaedron
LET HER GO
Alindra meets my eyes. I nod, turn, and swing my fist through the air, directly toward my father’s temple. Varitan pivots, rocking to meet me as my arm crashes toward his head, his lips twisted into a snarling sort of smile.
My fist freezes in midair, trapped in magic as thick as ice. My father stares directly at me. His eyes are as cold as the ceiling of the world in the Lands Below.
“Always so predictable,” he growls. His voice is heavy with disappointment.
I snarl at him, keeping my eyes on his thin, pinched face, on the sneer and the hard stare that have haunted my nightmares for my entire life. His magic tightens around my fist, biting into the skin of my wrist as if he wants to remind me that he could rip the life from my body and it would be no harder than crushing an ant beneath his polished black boot.
Something flutters in the corner of my eye. I ignore it with all the strength I have left. There’s a sound when Alindra throws the gold coin, like a soft little whistle, and Varitan’s expression shifts. He begins to turn away from my fist, his eyes widening.
The coin hits my father in the back of his neck with a dull thud. His mouth falls open. He spins toward Alindra, his hand outstretched. Blue light crackles between his fingers. Panic rises like steam in the back of my throat.
My fist falls as my father’s magic evaporates. I swing without thinking, bringing the tight knot of my fingers down hard on the back of my father’s neck. There’s a soft crunching sound, and then he collapses on the dirt.
Breath catches in my throat as my father’s fingers twitch against the ground. My mind screams that it can’t possibly be that easy, this has to be an illusion, some sort of elaborate trick designed to destroy us.
And then Rowan moans. I turn and catch him just as he sags forward. His chains bite into my arm as his chin collapses against his chest. The flames pouring from his eye soften, melting until they’re more like steam or smoke than fire.
“Phae,” Rowan whispers. “I don’t think I like our dad much.”
I try to laugh, but it comes out tangled and knotted, like a sob. Or a scream.
“Help me up,” Rowan rasps.
I wrap my arm tight around his chains, and together, we lurch back up to standing.
And there’s a woman staring at us. Right. I’d forgotten about her, the woman with the strange glow around her body. Our distraction. She’s looking at us like she expects we’re going to tie her to a spit and roast her over an open fire.
