Chapter 59 A Dragon’s Debt
A DRAGON’S DEBT
Pain. Everywhere.
I tried to push myself up, but my arms wouldn’t work. A coppery tang filled my mouth. I lay on my side, half-buried in a mound of rubble. Dust coated my tongue, my eyes, the inside of my throat. Every breath scraped like swallowing glass.
The Square was gone. Where cobblestones and market stalls and the executioner’s platform had stood, there was a crater of stones. Smoke curled from a dozen small fires, and the buildings that had framed the Square leaned inward, their facades sheared away.
I coughed wetly, blood spattering the dust.
Kairos.
I called through our connection.
Kairos, where are you?
I forced myself to breathe. In. Out. In.
The sky was blue. I blinked. The vortex that had hung over Skalgard for days, spitting red lightning and screaming wind, had vanished. The clouds had scattered and sunlight poured down, painting the ruins in soft colors.
Stones erupted, and a scaled snout pushed through the ground. It buckled as the dragon tore free, its black scales glistening.
Massive wings unfurled, wide enough to blot out the sun, and with a thunderous crack, the dragon launched into the air. More came—silver, purple, iridescent. Some were lean and long as ships, others short-necked and armored. Dozens of dragons, flying into the sky, their roars shaking the city.
A giant one broke from the rest. It was enormous—midnight scales slick with iridescence. It banked low and landed hard.
The impact shook my body. I threw an arm over my face, bracing myself, and when I lowered it, the dragon stood twenty paces away.
Its head was taller than a house. Golden eyes fixed on me, its pupils contracting slowly.
“Runebreaker.”
Tazurel’s fierce voice rumbled the earth.
I opened my mouth to respond, coughing blood.
His massive snout hovered inches from my face. Heat wafted off him in suffocating waves, thick with sulfur.
“You are broken,” he observed. “Your clay is too weak.”
He drew in a breath.
I flinched as his jaws yawned wide, showing rows of very sharp teeth, and light poured from his throat, spilling over me like a bath. It soaked into my bones, and the pain vanished almost instantly. My darkening vision cleared.
When I pushed myself upright, my arms didn’t shake. I was whole. Not a scratch on my skin, even the fabric on my dress restored. I turned, boots crunching over rubble, stunned by the absence of pain.
Tazurel watched me with detached interest.
Kairos?
Silence.
My heart seized. I tried again, but nothing.
“He is unconscious,” Tazurel said.
I spun around, and in the dragon’s place stood a man. Tall, radiant, and wrong. Long hair the color of wild honey framed a haughty face.
I dropped to my knees, stone biting my skin.
Tazurel smiled. He crossed the distance between us without seeming to move at all. He stopped in front of me and reached down, patting my head.
“You have served me well, runebreaker,” he murmured. “Not as swiftly as I expected, but I am capable of forgiveness.”
His fingers tightened slightly, tilting my head back until I met his gaze.
Heat coiled in my chest. “Lord Tazurel, please. I need to find Kairos.”
“Your king lives.”
“Is he safe? I need to—”
“I am eager to taste the sky again, but you freed me. Begrudgingly, but still. That earns you a reward.”
My mind blanked.
“What would you ask of me?” he prompted.
I licked my cracked lips. A thousand things flickered through my head—power, wealth, safety, revenge—but only one thing mattered.
“Rheya,” I blurted. “My sister. Did she survive?”
His head tilted. “Yes. She emerged. Disoriented, but alive.”
“Where is she? Can you bring her to me? And Kairos and the warriors, they were fighting when the seal broke, I don’t know if—”
“Breathe. I can sense every living soul in the realms. Your king is being tended to by a female warrior. Your sister is with the Dreadfae. The others are scattered. Injured.”
Alive. They were alive.
Tears burned my eyes. “Please. Take them to Ashvar Keep.”
“Is that all you want?”
I hesitated. What else could I ask for? What about protecting Sanguir? Kairos had poured everything he had into me and nearly lost his life. I had to do this for him.
“Protect Sanguir. Its people have suffered enough.”
Tazurel frowned. “You speak for the king?”
I bit on my lip.
“You reek of his claim.” Tazurel circled me, his lip curled over his teeth. “Mated to the ruler of the mist realm. That makes you his queen, does it not?”
Bond? His queen?
“I—we haven’t—” I stammered. “It’s complicated.”
“Why,” Tazurel asked with a dangerous lilt, “do you concern yourself with the lives of monsters?”
“Because they aren’t monsters.”
His brows rose a fraction.
“Sanguir is beautiful. Misty and wild. The forests are thick, the rivers run clear, and people wake before dawn and work until their hands split because they believe in the land. They don’t deserve to be killed.”
Tazurel’s gaze slid past me, drifting to the sky. “This world is full of pretty things. That has never saved them.”
The dismissal stung. Of course it didn’t matter. Why would it? Smaller lives simply didn’t register. I needed to think like someone standing before a god. What did dragons value? Not compassion or fairness. Dominion. Legacy.
I exhaled and lifted my chin. “You’re right.”
His attention snapped to me.
“I was being presumptuous. Sanguir isn’t important because it’s good. It matters because you spared it.”
The air seemed to thicken.
“You were erased from this world while lesser beings wrote history in your absence. They sealed you away and taught the realms to forget what ruled the skies.”
Tazurel glowered. “Yes.”
“If Sanguir burns,” I said softly, “it’ll be one more ruin in a long list that nobody will remember in a century. But if it stands, unbroken, while the other realms burn?”
I let the question hang.
“They’ll ask why that realm endured when others fell.”
Understanding flickered in his eyes.
“And the answer will be your name.”
Tazurel studied me for a moment, then smiled. “Gods do not swear oaths.”
I inclined my head.
“But I will consider your request.” His gaze sharpened. “See that Sanguir proves worthy of being remembered.”
I bit on my lip. “I will, my lord.”
“I will take your king and his companions home.” He started to disappear in a shaft of golden light. “Be wary, little one. The shadow-wielder approaches.”
My blood ran cold. “Vaeris?”
He disappeared, and then I watched the dragons, spiraling so high they were distant shapes against the clouds. I stood alone, Tazurel’s warning echoing in my skull.
Footsteps scraped behind me.