Page 42 of The Last Dragon
“Yes, you.” I don’t hesitate. “You think you can just waltz into the Corps like it’s a fucking game?”
She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “You’rethe one who’s impossible to work with.”
“Really? Me?” I scoff, a laugh bubbling in my throat. This is just fucking absurd.
“Yes,you,” she mocks. “If you weren’t so broody and stubborn all the time, then maybe, justmaybe, I’d have a chance to properly communicate with you.” She clicks her tongue. “Can’t even be three feet near you.”
“Alright.Alright.” My lips press together, trying to hold back words before I say them. That just amplifies the heat inside of me. “If I’m that terrible to work with, maybe you should find someone else to be your Hunter.”
“Maybe I will,” she snaps back, eyes blazing.
“Fantastic.”
“Wonderful!” she grunts, throwing her arms wide. “Maybe, I’ll find a Hunter who actually knows how to deal with a Redsnout and maybe even recognizes their gender.”
I pause.
“What did you say?” The words slip out of me calmly, my burning rage extinguished like a match in the rain.
“Did the Redsnout scorch your ears? Male dragons cock their heads before ignition. This one didn’t. It’sfemale.”
Her words hit harder than a hammer to the chest.
I scan the battlefield, heart pounding, but everyone’s too wrapped up in the aftermath of the fight to notice us. Good. Without thinking, I grab her arm and stride toward the shelter of a collapsed brick tower.
“Hey!” she protests, voice low, wriggling half-heartedly against my grip. She could pull away if she really wanted to—she doesn’t.
Behind the ruined wall, I stop. A few broken stones give us cover. It’ll do.
“What are you saying?” I ask, keeping my voice steady, though every word tastes like heat. A part of me wants to laugh it off—a female Redsnout? That’s impossible. Yet her words plant a seed of doubt I can’t shake.
For a moment, fire flashes in her eyes, like she’s ready to bite. But she hesitates as she studies my face, and the fire fades.
She sighs. “The Redsnout is female. Not male, like the general claims.”
My stomach knots. “How do you know that?”
“My book,” she says simply.
I raise an eyebrow. “Notmybook.”
She rolls her eyes. “My brother’s. I’ve read these things cover to cover. I know dragon behavior like the back of my hand.”
I stare at her, letting the silence stretch. “The last female Redsnout was slain ten years ago,” I say carefully, trying to hold onto what I know. How can she know this, but not me? I’ve been here longer. I’ve studied longer.
Her mouth presses into a thin line. “Apparently not.”
The familiar certainty in her voice stirs a flicker of fear. It bothers me. Not her claims, but what those claims stir in me. What if she’s right?
But one instant isn’t proof enough. This can rile people up, spiral them out of control. Fear will take over. If she’s right, that is. If she’s not—unnecessary, false information spreading can get her killed.Clipped.
Nobody can know.
I stare at her for a moment. She raises a brow, analyzing my face, waiting for me to say something. My throat tightens.
“This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” I say, lips tightening.
“Wha—hey!” she gasps. “We were all told it was male. I based every move on that assumption! Patterns, aggression—everything!”
