Page 89 of Crown of Betrayal and Blood

Cold dread settles in the pit of my stomach.

With our wings propelling us, Bastian and I rush toward the ancient dragon. His massive form is easy to spot on the sandy riverbank, a relic of might now thrashing in frustration.

“Easy.” I land beside him, feeling the tremors of his rage in my bones. Still, I don’t dare dampen because if we’re about to join in the battle, I need to feel the dragons. “We need you whole and hale.”

Cailleach’s milky eyes, filled with a warrior’s fire dulled by blindness, meet mine. He longs to fight, to protect the others from the invaders, but he fears becoming a liability rather than an asset.

I push my confusion and worry toward him and receive his memories of a time when humans dared to challenge the sanctity of this place, hunting for phoenixes.

But these intruders reek of something fouler, and they bring enslaved, sickly dragons with them.

“Enslaved dragons?” I turn to Bastian. “But I thought I saw Tirenese soldiers releasing the dragons and flying them away from Flighthaven the day that Sterling abducted me.”

Bastian grimaces. “You did, but some of the dragons were too sickly to make the flight to Tirene, so they left them all in a patch of wild land in Aclaris. The dragonriders hoped they’d be far enough away to remain free, but it sounds like that’s not the case.”

My mind reaches beyond the valley, grasping for those dragons.

The connection snaps into place, cold and slimy, like touching a serpent covered in oil. A Flighthaven dragon. The creature’s mind is wrapped in chains. Shackled.

My heart sinks. Not just one. There are five of them.

“The five dragons and riders we passed on our way here are outside trying to break in.” I look around, hoping for another way out of this predicament that doesn’t involve taking on an army. Or alerting Aclaris that we know about the phoenix tears. “The dragonriders may be corrupted like Leesa. Our dragons can sense the wrongness.”

“That means they may have been searching for you this whole time.” Bastian’s head jerks back in confusion. “Wait. If that’s true about the dragonriders, then why aren’t the Flighthaven dragons afraid of them?”

“They’re subdued somehow. Many of them are out of their minds and will torch a human without thought.” I swallow hard as I think about my friend Olive Holte, incinerated by a rogue dragon just before Sterling flew me out of Flighthaven. “I’ve seen it happen.”

Bastian’s hand drops to his sword. “Do you think their dragons sensed you and led their riders here?”

“I don’t know. But we’re far outnumbered. We need to escape them and get back to Tirene.”

Cailleach swings his head to the glacier crowning the valley. He nudges his snout toward the ice cap and then down to the trickling water on the mountainside.

I follow the silent gesture. My heart hitches as the bit of dark at the base of the sunlit ice catches my eyes. “Another opening. To the outside?”

A flicker of caution passes through his emotions, a warning mingled with concern. This alternate way out is not without its perils. Conditions cold enough to freeze the marrow in our bones and form ice along our wings wait on the other side of the passage. Only the younger dragons, with their youthful arrogance, even attempt to pass through.

I relay the information to Bastian. “We can do this. With our fire, we can help keep Nailah and Kaida, not to mention ourselves, warm enough to travel through the passage.”

Despite his obvious stress, a small smile tugs at Bastian’s lips. He ruffles my hair in an uncharacteristic show of affection. “Good thinking, sis.”

Though my eyes sting, I return his smile. “I have my moments.”

Cailleach’s ancient eyes fixate on me. More than anything, he wants to protect his family. But his diseased eyes restrain him. He knows that instead of having their largest and strongest with them, the younger, smaller dragons will have to fight to protect him. Sadness rolls off him like fog over water, and I can’t stop the tears from gathering in my own eyes.

“Hey.” I approach him with careful footsteps. “It’s okay.”

I swipe the wetness from my cheeks and pause, staring at the drops on my fingertips. My mind whirls.

“What’s wrong?” Bastian draws closer, eyes darting between Cailleach and me.

Both the ancient, powerful dragon and I are crying.

Again, I stare at the glistening liquid on my fingers. According to the history the feather revealed, these may not be just any tears, butphoenixtears. Because as a descendant of Queen Aero’s who demonstrates dragoncaller abilities, the blood running in my veins carries the magic from that first miraculous exchange between that phoenix mother and empathetic princess who saved those chicks.

Theoretically, anyway.

Once the ridiculous idea hits me, I can’t push it aside.

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