Page 88 of Talon

The muttering ceased instantly. For a second you could’ve heard a pin drop.

“Sebastian,” St. Francis said, his voice completely without emotion. “You just admitted to speaking with the enemy and allowing them to escape. I would think very, very carefully about the next words out of your mouth, because you are seconds away from the firing wall.” A cold lance went through my stomach, but I stared straight ahead, my expression blank as St. Francis continued. “What, exactly, were you doing out here?”

“I can tell you that,” said a new voice outside the circle.

The cold spread to all parts of my body as Tristan stepped out of the shadows, moving people aside as he approached us. I winced inwardly. A dried trickle of blood streamed from his nose, and a massive purple bruise stood out on his temple, spreading to the corner of his eye. He stepped into the circle, shooting me a hard glare, before turning to the squad leader.

“Garret is a traitor to the Order,” Tristan announced in a clear, firm voice. “He deliberately prevented me from taking the shot on one of the targets, targets I had orders to kill. I tried reasoning with him, but he said the Order had been wrong to kill dragons, that we were mistaken. When I tried to stop him, he attacked me.”

I held my breath, knowing I was trapped, but wondering how much Tristan would reveal. This was no longer a simple case of reckless behavior, and the mood of the circle had definitely changed. Soldiers were staring at me now, some in disbelief, some in pity, contempt and rage. St. Francis, to his credit, remained calm, emotionless, as he nodded at my former partner.

“Is that all?”

Tristan hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“I see.” St. Francis turned to me, his eyes and voice cold. “And do you have anything to say in your defense, soldier?”

Nothing that you would accept. Nothing that would assuage my guilt, only compound it. Tristan didn’t tell you everything.

“No, sir,” I muttered.

“Take his weapons,” St. Francis ordered, motioning to the soldiers closest to me. They stepped forward, seizing the M-4 and stripping me of my sidearm. I didn’t move, and the soldiers stepped back, keeping their own weapons trained on me. “Garret Xavier Sebastian,” St. Francis went on, “I’m taking you into custody. For collaboration with the enemy and treason against the Order. We’ll escort you back to headquarters, and then your fate is out of my hands.”

I met Tristan’s eyes, and he turned away. Even after everything between us tonight, I couldn’t blame him. He knew, as I did, what that fate would be. I would be taken back to our chapterhouse, where my case would be presented to a jury of commanding officers, leaving them to mete out punishment. If I was found guilty of treason, I would be marched to a long brick wall behind the training compound, offered a blindfold, and then the line of soldiers standing fifteen feet away would shoot me. A fitting end to one who sympathized with dragons.

So be it. I had always known death would come for me, sooner rather than later. And even if my death was execution before a firing squad and not in the jaws of a dragon as I’d always thought, at least, this time, I knew what I believed. I would die saving someone instead of ending a life.

As I was led away, I glanced once more at the top of the cliff, where Ember and the other dragons had vanished into the darkness. They would be long gone by now, free of St. George, and that, too, gave me some small comfort. I hoped she would think of me sometimes, though we were enemies and she would never realize that the reason for everything—every choice, every understanding, every decision I’d made tonight—was because of her.

Because St. George fell in love with a dragon.

A faint smile tugged at my lips. Tearing my gaze from the sky, I followed my former teammates through the cliffs and into the shadows, leaving behind the beach where I first met a fiery, green-eyed dragon girl.

Ember

I lay on my stomach behind a sand dune, watching the line of soldiers move toward the big brown truck parked behind a boulder. My heart slammed against my ribs, echoing loudly in my ears, making me wish I could silence it. I was human again, still wearing my sleek black outfit, and I knew from this distance the human soldiers would have a near-impossible time spotting me among the rocks and sandy hills, but the sight of them still filled me with dread. They were my enemies, I understood that now. Before tonight, the war had been a distant thing, something intangible and unreal, never solid.

I’d been naive before; I would not be that foolish again. St. George would show us no mercy, no quarter. They would kill us just for existing. From here on, they could expect the same from me.

Except for one.

I saw him almost instantly, walking between two armed soldiers, head slightly bowed, following them down the path. Seeing him made my heart ache with longing, and sadness, and guilt. Because I’d wanted to be human for him, if only for a little while. Because those few moments we’d shared had been perfect, even though they were a lie. And because I remembered the look on his face when he saved us from Lilith, the knowledge that he’d just betrayed everything he knew. Just as I had with Talon. And his final words to me, right before I’d flown off with Cobalt and the others, finally made sense.

Forget about me. I’m already dead. Just go.

They would kill him. St. George would kill him for helping us. And he’d known. He’d known the consequences, and he’d still chosen to help. He’d chosen to save his sworn enemy, face death at the hands of his own people...for what?

I can’t follow their beliefs, and I can’t condone what we’ve done. I knew what I was doing when I came here tonight.

“I still can’t believe you talked me into this,” growled a voice at my side.

I looked away from Garret long enough to grin at the human beside me. Sprawled on his stomach, Riley wore a pair of black jeans and a gray shirt that had been stuffed in one of the backpacks, and looked distinctly unhappy about being so close to St. George. He did not return my smile.

“I thought you were a Basilisk,” I whispered to him. “Isn’t this the type of thing you used to do all the time?”

“For Talon, yes,” Riley shot back. “Not for fun. And definitely not to rescue some St. George bastard who shot at me earlier tonight. That doesn’t seem good for your health.”

“He helped us, Riley,” I reminded him. “He knew the consequences, and he still helped us. St. George will kill him because of it.”

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