Page 141 of The Last Dragon
Even saying its name coils a tight, burning knot in my chest. I haven’t told them—not about the wound. Not that the dragon is more than just claws and teeth. That it could be sentient.
I shake the thoughts away.Later.
I press the tip of the pen harder against the page. “I’ll meet you a little way out from the entrance. Just don’t get too close. I don’t think Grogol knows about this place—it’s hidden, tucked behind a massive old tree. You pass through a dense patch of forest. There’s brush and dry scrub everywhere. It’s easy to miss unless you’re looking for it.” My hand lifts from the page. Smudged ink stains my fingertips. I meet Eryca’s eyes.
“It’s the only place left that hasn’t been touched by Corps filth.”
Not yet, anyway.
Sam takes the sheet, analyzing the rough lines. He gives a few nods before folding it and giving it to me again.
“Burn it,” he says, wiping off whatever residue his fingertips caught onto his pants. “I memorized it.”
I hesitantly take it, but it’s no surprise Sam is able to catch onto things quickly—and memorize things at a glance.
“We’ll be there in a day,” Eryca says, her voice gentle. “But now, you need to get out.”
“But—” I protest.
“We’ll look for Nida, okay? Ilian has more ground—he’s on patrol. I’m only on guard duty. But every evening he passes me in the hall. I can tell him everything then.”
I furrow a brow, about to protest.
“You have to trust me,” she whispers, and a wave of relief washes over me.
“I do.”
Sam moves toward the door just as another bell tolls in the distance. He pauses, hand brushing the worn frame, and gives me a soft nod. One that says more than words ever could. For the first time in a long time, I have someone else to trust. To help carry the burden. Then he disappears behind the door, its hinges groaning shut. Eryca strides to the window, quickly opening it. She sticks her head out, scanning the surroundings.
“You know the way down?” she asks, even though I’m certain she knows the answer. I give her a nod. There’s a ladder a ways down. Just need to hop some roofs to get there. Hopefully, without being spotted.
“Oneday. And don’t do anything stupid, alright?”
Even though I’ve gotten control of my emotions, I’m still weak in my knees. I still feel like the emotions will take over once again. And next time harder. I stride to the window, pulling myself up on it, feeling the fresh breeze on my face, accompanied by small drops of water from the rain. I look back, Eryca’s brown eyes staring back at me.
“Eryca—”
“Don’t,” she interrupts. “You’re like a brother to me. No matter the shit you’ve pulled. In a way… I understood why. I would’ve done the same. So… don’t get yourself killed, okay?”
She gives me her bow. A smile tugs on my lips, and she tilts her head back, a way of telling me to get the fuck out of her sight without anymore goodbyes. I crawl out the window, the rain pelting me once again, and pull it shut behind me.
CHAPTER 49
The mud clings to my boots, every step like a second skin—only for the rain to rinse it away before the next. The cycle repeats. I’m drenched to the bone, my leather jacket heavy with water, hair plastered to my forehead. I don’t dare take the road. Not with Corps-loyal soldiers patrolling. Or worse, curious civilians with loose lips and quicker feet.
At this moment, I want to be alone.
A shiver skates down my spine despite the warmth of the rain against my face. I halt, glancing behind me. There’s something here. Something behind the thicket. But when I narrow my gaze, there’s nothing. No movement. No breath. Just wind threading through leaves and the hush of rainfall on the forest floor. Still, one hand hovers near the dagger at my hip, the other clutching my bow.
I need to find Sarga again and somehow send a message to Valous in hopes he hasn’t changed his mind about the rebellion—or letting me in on it.
The rain comes in sheets, drumming against the leaves. My leathers cling to my back. I keep walking—until the sharp cry cuts through the thunderous storm. Sarga.
There you are.
She perches high on the gnarled branch of the old tree, feathers glimmering with water, highlighted by the lightning in the distance. She shakes the droplets, then flaps her wings to land. I click my tongue in praise. My boots squelch as I cross the clearing and press myself against the tree’s thick trunk. It’s massive. Roots twist out of the earth, branches casting the only shelter for miles. I glance up at Sarga. I can’t send words to Valous. But I have to give him something. My fingers move before doubt can stop them, tugging at the leather strap across my chest. Nothing. Then my hand strays to my shoulder, the patch of a commander attached to it.
He will know.
