Chapter 49 Skylar
Skylar is escorted from her room down to the grounds by three random guards. She wonders briefly why it’s not Axel coming to get her—though perhaps that’s easier, all things considered. She wonders, too, where Simone is—and why she’s been replaced.
Kaida bounds along next to her, having scratched at the door last night to be let into her room around midnight. She was supposed to stay with Mjolnir for the night, and she’s getting too big for the bedroom now, really—but it was nice to have the company while she tried to sleep.
Mjolnir should be waiting for her outside the castle entrance, so that Skylar can arrive at the duel—and the waiting crowds—with her two dragons in tow.
Only Mjolnir is allowed in the cage, of course, but Kaida insisted that she be there to watch, so she’ll be up on the dais with the king and queen.
Skylar still isn’t sure that Kaida knows what the duel actually is, but where else would she go, anyway?
When Skylar gets outside, however, Mjolnir is not there.
She looks up at the pale blue sky. Mjolnir?
There is no answer. Something uncomfortable prickles under her skin. How could he be late for something like this?
One of the guards clears her throat. “Apologies, Your Highness, but we are to take you to the arena without delay.”
Skylar glares at the guard, who winces, backing away with her hands in the air.
Mjolnir?
Still nothing. She looks down at Kaida. Did Mjolnir say anything to you last night? About where he would meet us?
No. The little dragon cocks her head. He should be here.
I know.
He was sleeping when I left him. His snores woke me.
Skylar bites her lip, glancing around again. But she knows he’s not nearby—she can’t feel his presence the way she usually can. What the Vaar is going on? Has he left her?
You will be okay, Skylar, Kaida says confidently. Skylar reaches out to trail her fingers over Kaida’s head, her red-bronze scales growing more vibrant each day.
“Your Highness,” begins another of the guards.
“Fine,” Skylar snaps, stalking off in the direction of the arena. Outwardly, she tries to appear calm, but her insides are writhing. He can’t have left her. He might be bonded to Zryan, first and foremost, but he promised.
Maybe he’ll be waiting for her there. Yes, that’ll be it.
She hears the noise of the crowd before she sees them, laughter and screaming and even music—like they are being entertained as they wait.
Of course they are. And Aldric will be out on the streets somewhere, what remains of the troupe doing their best to take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Rows and rows of seating come into view, while sunlight and magic glint off the metal bars of the cage.
The spectators’ faces blur—there are so many of them.
She knows it can’t be the whole city, but that’s what it feels like.
There is a ripple of a cheer as those nearest catch sight of her for the first time.
She hates them. All of them. Here to cheer, to bet, to watch them kill.
How did it all get so toxic? At what point did this come to be seen as anything other than a tragedy?
Bitterness burns her tongue as she looks toward the dais where the king and queen sit, near the entrance of the cage. They watch her as she approaches—but there is still no sign of Mjolnir. Panic clogs her throat and she tries to breathe, to think.
He’ll be here, she tells herself. He’ll come any second now.
There is no sign of the king or queen’s dragons, either. Are they all planning on making some kind of grand entrance to impress the crowds?
Astrid is already there, at the side of the dais, her mother’s arms around her. Her eyes are a little red, and she wipes a tear from her cheek as she nods at something her mother says. Their final goodbye. Bastet is there, too, in his panther form, his tail swishing as he looks around at the crowd.
The king and queen, seated next to the Custodian and surrounded by the menagerie and a few Dreki, both stand in apparent greeting as Skylar approaches. She scans the line of guards—and frowns. She can’t see Axel. Where the fucking Vaar is he? She’d thought he’d want to be here, to see this.
And then she realizes. There is one other person missing.
Zryan. Zryan isn’t here.
A high-pitched ringing starts up in her head—a warning. Zryan wouldn’t miss this. He shouldn’t be allowed to miss this, even if he doesn’t want to witness it. Unless… Fuck, has he done something stupid, to try to save Astrid?
Astrid is scanning the line of people on the dais. She’s looking for him, too. Whatever he’s done, he’s done without her knowledge.
The Custodian clears his throat. “It is time.”
The witch queen’s sharp gaze finds Skylar, then does a quick scan of the arena. “I see no sign of your other dragon,” she says.
Skylar can’t get the words out. She can’t say it, because she doesn’t believe it.
The king frowns. “Perhaps we should give him another moment or two to arrive.”
Gwen releases a breath. “He’s not here.” She glances at Astrid, then straightens her back. “In which case, I think it’s apparent that he’s chosen not to fight.” She looks at the Custodian. “You said it would be up to him, I believe?”
The Custodian licks his lips, perhaps feeling the weight of all the royals on him now. “Ah, yes. But perhaps we should wait—”
“We cannot wait,” Gwen snaps. “The duel happens now.”
Queen Ottilie’s expression is tight, and she lays a hand on the king’s arm as he steps forward, glaring at Gwen.
“If that is truly the case,” the Custodian begins, his voice wavering, “then I’m afraid…” He looks toward Kaida, whose tail thumps the ground.
Skylar goes cold. “No.” She hears Bastet utter the word at the same time.
“The rules state—”
“We cannot risk her,” the king says. “The girl has enough power without the fire dragon. Let her go in alone if she’s been abandoned by Zryan’s beast.”
The Custodian heaves in a breath. “There is no choice here.”
The crowd is buzzing, people craning their necks, wanting to see what the delay is. Skylar, meanwhile, is frozen. This can’t be happening. Kaida was supposed to be safe.
We will be okay! Kaida declares, bounding to Skylar’s side. Astrid will not hurt you.
Skylar stares at Kaida. Mjolnir has explained the duel to her, but she still doesn’t comprehend.
She casts her mind out, desperately calling for him. Where are you, Mjolnir? You promised you’d be here. If you’re having second thoughts about me, think of Kaida—she has to go into that cage if you don’t come.
But she gets nothing. What if he’s hurt? What if that’s the reason he can’t be here? Or is Zryan doing this—is he keeping Mjolnir away from her, to give Astrid a chance?
She whirls to Bastet. “You protect Kaida, you hear me? You look after her.”
Bastet hisses—but she knows it is not at her, but rather in protest of what’s about to happen.
Astrid grips Bastet’s fur. “Skylar…”
“Don’t. Let’s just… Don’t, okay?” And then to Kaida, You stay out of the way, okay, Little One?
I will help!
You will not. You will stay behind Bastet.
And she has to hope, has to trust, that Bastet will not go for Kaida—that he will focus only on Skylar.
Somewhere, a gong sounds, loud enough to make Skylar flinch.
Astrid looks to Bastet, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Together,” she says.
TOGETHER, he agrees.
But it is Skylar and Astrid who step up, side by side, to the dais. Nausea swells in Skylar’s stomach—there is a very real possibility that she might throw up.
The king calls for order, and a hush falls over the crowd. She wonders if only she can hear the tightness in his voice as he speaks—the fact that things are not going according to plan.
“Today, the Nachstern and de Veras heirs fight on behalf of their countries. But before they do, we end the blood bond.” He gestures to a figure at the side of the podium—the Blood Wielder.
A drop of blood is pulled from Astrid’s and Skylar’s palms—an echo of what happened at the Blood Binding. Their blood settles into a metal bowl in front of the king, where it sizzles, turning black.
Skylar doesn’t need to ask if that’s it. She feels it—a kind of loss running through her, like there is a gradual seeping away of Astrid’s essence. There is a tiny part, though, that remains—like it will take time for it to fade completely. Time that they do not have.
Two guards are opening the door to the cage, and Skylar’s gut twists. Astrid’s face is pale.
“They must fight,” the king says to the crowd. “And one must die.”
Now. They have to go into the cage now.
Cheers fill the arena; she can hear her name being called. No one calls Astrid’s name. The only people here to root for her are on the dais—her mother, whose face is set, the bear familiar by her side, and a few of her guards.
Another flutter of panic rises in Skylar’s chest. She’s not ready. She doesn’t want to do this. Her mouth is dry, her palms clammy. But the king is ushering them forward. This is happening.
Kaida walks by her side, shifting uncertainly for the first time, a huff of smoke escaping her nostrils.
Astrid gives one last searching look behind her. Skylar can’t help copying the action—because if Zryan appears, then maybe Mjolnir will, too. But there is no sign of them in the skies.
They step into the cage. She knows it can’t be true, but it feels colder in here somehow. A sense of dread settles around her, even as she squares her shoulders, tells herself she can do this.
The king lowers his voice. “Good luck, Daughter. Do not let me down.” As if it’s him she’s fighting for.
The cage is locked, a ripple of power pulsing through the air.
The king addresses the crowd for the last time. “Only when two become one will the cage open.”
She and Astrid face each other. The cheers are louder now. This is it. They are really doing this.
She twists the ring on her finger. Cam. Above all, in this moment, it is him she wants here with her, even though it’s impossible, even though he’ll never be with her again.
And there it is, his voice, clear in her head.
You’re wrong. I’ll always be with you, Lar.
She closes her eyes, letting the sound of his voice settle through her. When she opens them, Astrid is looking back at her—Bastet by her side, Kaida right behind him as instructed. And though the Blood Binding has been reversed, she can still hear Astrid’s voice in her mind.
Are you ready, Little Dragon?
Skylar doesn’t answer. She shuts it all down, shuts Astrid out. It’s the only way she’s going to get through this.
The noise of the crowd fades away. They are unimportant, all of them. Nothing matters right now, except the person in front of her.
Skylar forces herself to strip back, to conjure the woman she knows she can be. The arrogant, selfish person Axel accused her of being. The coldhearted bitch Amara once told her she was.
Then, finally, she meets Astrid’s gaze. And she reaches for her power.