Chapter 45
My heart danced into my throat as we shot forward.
Azeron was fast. He burst from the starting line with fury and precision.
“Go!” I screamed, jamming my heels into Myth’s sides.
We were airborne in a single wingbeat, but there wasn’t much room to lift as we sailed under bridge after bridge.
Azeron’s tail whipped at Myth’s snout. Myth snapped with his jaws, but missed. I almost shouted at him not to hurt Azeron, but this was night racing. And hurting Azeron was better than watching him die.
The first turn beneath a bridge was tricky, and Myth had to touch down before leaping once more into the air. My stomach lurched as we aimed topside, charging up and up, narrowly avoiding hitting the stone railing that flew past us. Wingbeats like cannon fire drowned out the sounds of the city.
We banked, snaking through one tight turn then another as we followed the course around the tall buildings. Flying topside, Myth put on speed, edged over Azeron.
Rush glanced up. He yanked Azeron until his head slammed Myth’s belly. The spikes likely hurt, and I ground my teeth. Myth snorted sparks into the night, and I screamed. Considering the stakes, Rush had to want to lose—didn’t he? It had to be the magic fueling him onward.
“Ari!” Rush bellowed as he rose just ahead of us.
I leaned into Myth’s neck, squeezing the handles so hard my fingers lost blood. “Win,” I told him. All along, Rush had told me to win, to give the duke a reason to keep me alive. Win so we can live.
Whatever the duke had given Azeron was working. Together, he and Rush were unbeatable, but only if Rush wanted to win.
It’s the magic, I told myself as Myth once again fell behind. The duke needed this to be a fight to the finish. He couldn’t risk his own son losing.
One more turn and we dropped back bottomside, blazing past the watching crowd. Azeron made the dive and leveled out without a claw touching the stones. Myth’s claws slammed the stones, but he wasn’t losing ground. He was every bit as fast as Azeron.
But if he wasn’t just a bit faster, Azeron would die tonight. And I might, too, if the duke decided keeping me alive wasn’t worthwhile. I couldn’t accept that, though the reality of it raced at us as we neared the final stretch.
Azeron gained a length in the narrow bottomside streets.
I closed my eyes and thought about the ruby, willing it to help us win, and the emerald to create my desire to win into a reality.
But I might be entirely wrong about the stones, about magic, about all of it.
What if the emerald contained specific magic to alter only a specific book?
What if the ruby only made someone win if it was first imbued with the correct magic?
I’d taken a risk, and I was going to ruin Rush’s life because of it.
Then it struck me. Myth had magic of his own, in his flame. Maybe we didn’t even need the stones to win.
“Go!” I shouted as we carved our way back up to the high streets.
I had no idea how his magic worked or how to activate it—if I even could. But I could try.
Recalling Bryce’s advice, I shaped my thoughts with silent words. If we lose, Fairfax will kill Azeron. Please, Myth, don’t let him die.
Myth surged forward. In my bones, I felt him pushing, tearing for the finish line like it was his own life on the line.
My emotions swirled like a snowstorm inside me, but Myth’s fierce determination crowded them out until all I felt was a pulsing throb that ricocheted between fear and fury.
The beating of my dragon’s heart became my own, and somehow, I knew there was more to our bond than I’d realized.
He was afraid, and he was mad. He’d always been trying to cheer me up, but not this time.
This time, he was letting me in, showing me something about him I’d never known.
Tears streamed from my eyes from the biting wind.
My dragon’s fury won out, and in a lurch that stole my breath, Myth cut under Azeron, then banked up, cutting him off.
A howl tore from Rush’s throat. “Ari!”
The bridge sailed below us as we crossed the finish line just ahead of Rush.
Relieved sobs broke from my mouth and I crashed against Myth, wanting to remember this feeling forever.
But as he slowed, catching a breeze and banking up over the buildings, I heard a gunshot. Ice formed in my gut as I whipped my head around. The crowd had scattered, fleeing into side streets. Two more gunshots rent the night.
On the bridge that marked the finish line, Azeron lay sprawled, neck splayed at the wrong angle over the railing. The blue dragon was breathing, but he was clearly in pain. Rush, however, lay on the ground beside him, still. Blood was pooling on the stones.
My scream was swallowed by Myth’s low growl. The remaining crowd scattered as he slammed to the ground. I tore at the straps on my legs, but my hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t undo the knots.
“No. No…” I muttered as I ripped at the leather straps, eyes darting over Azeron and Rush.
No one moved.
Finally, agonizingly, the saddle released me and I crashed to the bridge, ankles jarring from the impact. Scrambling, half-stumbling, I moved toward Rush.
There was so much blood.
The duke stepped forward and eyed his son. A man behind him held the long barrel of a rifle over one arm.
“You!” I shouted. “You killed him!”
The duke held my stare without an ounce of pity or sorrow. “I told him I would if he lost.” He turned on his heel and marched away.
“No!” I shrieked, falling to my knees beside Rush. Rush had lied. He’d lied and he was dead and I hadn’t known what winning would do. It was my fault.
Myth snuffled along Rush’s shirt.
My breaths came violently, and I could feel the darkness creeping in, my vision starting to fade at the edges. I braced my hands against Rush’s chest.
“Myth!” I called, reaching for him. I tugged his face down over Rush. “Save him. I know you can.” I didn’t care if Myth showed his flame; if it would save Rush, it was worth it.
Myth let a single spark fly from his mouth. Small enough that I wasn’t certain who saw it. It landed on Rush’s chest, settling over the bullet wound, and, to my surprise, dissolved into his flesh with a small hiss.
Vanya lowered herself slowly beside me. Prescott took a knee, a hand cupped to his mouth, his eyes red and watery. Clarence, fingers linked on top of his head, stood behind him. They hadn’t fled, and for that I loved them. I fell against Rush’s chest, and I sensed the faintest thump beneath my ear.
Rush’s eyes peeled open.
“Wait,” Prescott said, reaching forward. “He’s alive!”
I gasped and looked down at Rush. Then I squeezed my eyes shut. If he didn’t stop bleeding, he wouldn’t be alive long.
The duke turned around.
Saints.
Everyone’s attention turned to the duke as he stormed toward us. Merlon Fairfax also stepped onto the bridge from the opposite side, glaring at the duke.
“Tell the people to leave,” the duke’s deep voice said. His men raised their long-barreled rifles and shooed the crowd away. It took less than a minute for the crowd to disperse.
“You too,” one of the duke’s men said to Vanya, Prescott, and Clarence, who hopped up from beside Rush and hurried reluctantly away. “Not you.” The man’s rifle smacked me in the stomach as I got to my feet. Within seconds, I was alone with the duke and his men.
I turned first to Fairfax, then to the duke. Warring sides, each with more power than I could ever have.
“You lost, Edgar. How does it feel?” Fairfax said with a satisfied smile, as if everything was right in the world. He didn’t spare a glance for Rush or Azeron. The fiend.
Then, as soon as Fairfax opened his mouth to laugh, a gun fired and the man fell to the ground like a sack of flour thrown down. He did not move. I held both hands over my mouth as I gaped at Fairfax’s body.
My eyes cut back to Rush. The duke would remove anyone who stood against him, including his own son. But I had one thing the duke wanted.
Duke Covington walked up to Fairfax and nudged the man’s arm with his shoe.
Then, to my horror, the duke did the same thing to Rush.
The duke’s amused snort sent fury into my veins and I let out a feral scream.
In a flash, three rifles were pointed at me as the armed men walked forward onto the bridge.
Giving the duke what he wanted, giving him Myth’s magic, would chain me to the duke, but it was my only play. My final card.
“Let him live,” I said, arms shaking. I couldn’t become an assassin—my heart still hammered in my chest from watching Fairfax die—but I could become an asset.
In response, the man nearest me walked forward and lowered his rifle barrel until it touched Rush’s riding jacket.
“Duke Covington,” I said through gritted teeth, trying to keep my voice quiet enough that those hiding in the shadows couldn’t hear. “My dragon will only flame if I tell him to, a fact I’m sure you’ve discovered by now. Let Rush live, and Myth’s flame will be yours.”
“Ari, no,” Rush mumbled from the ground beside me.
Duke Covington strolled forward, his eyes radiating pure fury as he locked his focus on me. “You want to play the game, do you? Then you’re in luck. I always need more willing pawns.”
“No.” Rush’s groan drew his father’s attention.
The duke squatted beside his son and pulled something from within his suit jacket.
My eyes widened. It was Rush’s journal. “Been looking for this?” he asked Rush.
“Ah, looks like you know all about this little book too,” he said, noting my reaction.
“Then I’ll ask you to do the honors.” He stood and passed me the journal. “Rip off the cover.”
“What?” I gasped. Then my heart sank and my knees threatened to give out as I looked down at the worn leather journal and Rush’s body splayed on the ground.
“You heard me,” the duke sneered.
My hands trembled as my fingers gripped the pages. Tears welled in my eyes. The cover slipped the first time I yanked on it, but the second time, I funneled all my rage into the motion as I tore the pages from the journal’s binding.
There, sewn into the filigree thread holding Rush’s mother’s journal together, was a tiny emerald.
A cry stole from my lips, half-agony, half-anger.
Rush’s eyes were closed. He was breathing steadily now. He hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t seen this deepest betrayal.
“No,” I breathed, dropping the journal at Rush’s side. “Everything you think you know is a lie,” I muttered to him, quoting his words to me months ago.
The duke nodded. “Pity you never thought to test that book.” His lips pressed into a thin smile.
“Choosing candidates for my…organization involves thorough testing. I had to know if my son was smart enough to figure it out. And, more importantly, I needed to see what he would do with the information he discovered. And I must say, this was fun, waiting to see if he’d put it all together.
Though I suppose I might have you to thank for that.
You’ll tell me everything now, Miss Mireaux.
” He licked his lips, then snapped his fingers.
One of the gunmen hurried to his side. “Take her.”
I tried to scramble away from the man, but I tripped over Azeron’s tail.
Two of the duke’s suited men descended on me, one wielding a rifle trained on my face, the other, a black velvet bag.
The last thing I saw was Rush sitting up.
Then the world went dark as the butt of a gun hit my head.