Page 79 of Crown of Ashes and Awe

“We’re still here,” I murmured. “We’re both still here.”

He pulled back to look at me. “Your head. Are you all right?”

“I will be.”

“Do you want to tell me how you killed that dragon?”

“Well, it wasn’t anything I read in a book.”

He laughed. “That’s all right. You can tell me later. I assume it was something similar to what you did with Old Grim?”

“It was.”

A shadow passed over his face and I knew he was tempted to say something more, but he hugged me to him again, briefly, before we joined the others. One of the black dragons came down to fill the arena, and while we loaded onto its back, Moire had a great deal to say to the monsters in the stands. In the end, she didn’t trust them to punish Ciro and ordered one of her men to remove his head. Then she advised them to be careful about whom they chose as their leader, that she would be back to judge them again.

It was impossible to tell what the mute onlookers were thinking. But while we waited for Moire and her husband to mount the purple dragon, the tall DeNoy in emerald green made his way down the steps and onto the arena floor. I thought he might want a word with Moire, but he passed by her dragon without looking up, his attention fixed on the headless body of Ciro.

When he reached it, he used the toe of his boot to flip it onto its back, then he took a deep breath, and spit on it. A good many in the mob cheered, and it gave me hope.

Maybe they weren’t all monsters after all.

38

WHATEVER IT TAKES

Though we should be celebrating our rescue, the day had been long and disheartening, and as the enormous black dragon carried us away from The Soundless, the sun began to lower its head as if it were done in as well. There was only so much living and dying that could be stuffed into one stretch of sunlight, and we were at capacity. Or so I hoped.

I had much to be grateful for. The pain in my head gradually lost its edge. Our seats were secure, the dragon was whole and healthy, and for our sakes, it flew neither too high nor too fast, which offered a level of comfort I hadn't counted on. The beast could have dragged its talons in the snow on the tops of the Queevnar Mountains, we flew so close.

I'd never wanted to fly again. And yet, all I'd desired in the past few days was to climb on a dragon with Tearloch and escape. And now my wish had been granted by Moire—the woman I had lost hope of ever seeing.

Fate had spoiled me. I hadn't suffered nearly as much as my friends had. Bain had lost both his brothers. Tearloch had been beaten severely for the sake of leveling the playing field. Ciro must have planned to pit him against Nogel all along.

Griffon had been needled and bled by degrees. There was no telling how much longer he might have lasted if the changelings' facades hadn't failed them. Sweetie had a damaged arm and mourned the loss of his friends—thank goodness his heartbound had been physically unscathed. But poor Lennon's pain seemed equal to Bain's. She'd lost part of her soul while Bain had lost the remainder of his blood family.

Then, of course, there was Morrow and Dower, who'd lost the most of all.

And if they counted Huxor, Tearloch and Sweetie had lost two of their dearest friends.

I turned and looked down the length of the dragon and admitted...we could have lost so much more. One woman, three men, two dragons, and a bull. A lot of death just to entertain a city of monsters.

No—to entertain one twisted man.

But there was hope for the people of The Soundless, if they were wise. Moire had charged them to start anew, to create the sort of world they wanted to live in without Ciro's interference. If there were enough good among them, they might be able to change.

One bold man had asked Moire if the prophecy would be fulfilled, and if all of them would die, what was the point of renewing anything? She only told them to be patient. That all would be revealed soon, and that any time they spent rebuilding their community wouldn't be wasted.

That sounded hopeful to me. If it wasn't a waste to start something...then I hoped Tearloch and I could do the same. I just wasn’t sure where the starting point should be.

By the time we reached Ristat and landed outside the vast complex of the palace, our sunset was fading to black. Griffon's father directed servants to provide us with rooms, meals, and hot baths. He'd probably smelled us firsthand, knew that we'd been locked up for days, and that we all needed to wash The Soundless off our bodies.

It would take much longer to wash it from our minds—if that was possible.

Lears and Poole opted to be housed with the king’s guard. Nogel was invited, by Griffon’s father, to join the king’s dragon riders in the royal drake house, which utterly thrilled him. The rest of us were led through a labyrinth of attached buildings with a promise there was a destination in mind.

The apartments they assigned to us were at the end of a short wing, tucked away in a far corner of the palace as if meant to be forgotten. When I entered mine, the door creaked on its old iron hinges. The creak of other doors echoed in the corridor behind me as my friends accepted their assignments. Inside, the room was cold, lit by a fresh fire in the hearth that had yet to start creating heat.

How I’d dreamed of sitting before such a fire again…

---