Chapter 23
Harper
My body jerks. My eyes fly open, and I find I’m lying on the stone far from the fortress, the cold wind clawing at me.
I can feel warm blood dripping down my face, and every inch of me hurts.
I hurt in a way that I’ve never hurt before.
Someone’s fist rams into my stomach so hard my brain takes a full three seconds to tell my lungs to scream.
Ebron! I shout into my mind, opening the golden cord between us wide. Ebron!
Harper! I could feel you. I knew they were hurting you, but I could not find you.
I’m outside. Somewhere near the cliffs. They’re going to kill me! Although, this is an island. There are cliffs everywhere.
You are safe. I am coming for you.
I’m grabbed by my shoulder and yanked to my knees. My arms are twisted behind me, trapped by someone’s hands. I blink and see six silhouettes, faces blurred by the wind and the fact that one of my eyes isn’t working right.
“Bitch,” one of them spits, cuffing my cheek so hard I bite my own tongue. “That’s for making this whole thing fucking harder than it had to be.”
“Did you see her with that Hollowborn? She’s a fucking whore,” says another, and the rest snicker.
I plant my feet the best I can and try to launch myself upward, but one of them has my arms locked in a vise. “Let me go,” I snarl, but all it does is make them laugh harder.
“Whore’s got spirit,” someone observes, and then another fist comes, this time into my ribs. There’s a pop, like a bubble under my skin, and I go blind with pain. The world pulses in and out, black and screaming. My knees buckle.
“Let’s get this done. Thorne said to kill the Hollowborn as slowly as humanly possible and then throw the girl off the cliffs.”
Thorne. They’d said his name earlier, but I’d barely registered it before the attack.
I can’t believe this is because of him. All of this.
Not the king, not the Gore Rock dragon riders, but the king’s worm of an advisor, Elder Thorne.
My heart races so fast I almost throw up.
This is a coup. Or at least the start of one.
“You’re making a mistake,” I rasp, craning my neck to glare at the nearest one. “Thorne’s not the king. He’s not a prince. He’s not your leader at all. He’s just a coward who wants to keep this war going forever.”
A fist grabs my hair, jerks my head back until the stars spin. “You keep talking,” the man says, his breath hot on my cheek. “But all I hear is a traitor who thinks she’s better than us.”
I grin with all my teeth. “That’s because I am.”
He backhands me so hard the world tilts. I spit blood in his face. For a split second, there’s a chorus of laughter, then the mood flips to ugly.
“Think you’re clever?” he sneers. “We’ll see how clever you are with your guts on the rocks.”
He yanks me to my feet, and the pain in my side almost makes me faint. I plant my heels and try to headbutt him, but the guy behind me shoves me forward. The wind is so fierce it steals my breath, claws at my clothes. I catch a glimpse of the cliff edge, sharp and silver against a dark sky.
The other dragon riders form a ring around me, faces pinched and angry.
I know the look. They’re soldiers who’ve been given an order they’re not happy with, an order they might hate, but they hate me more.
Someone who loves a Hollowborn. This is about the only time I can imagine a dragon rider hurting a woman instead of protecting her.
This sort of thing is usually against their code of honor.
One of them has my dagger. He twirls it between two fingers, watching me with a sick little smile.
“Bet you want this back,” he says.
I lunge for him, but the grip on my arms holds me tight. “Give it here,” I snap. “I’ll show you where to shove it.”
“Try it,” he says, and the others laugh.
I scream. Not words, just rage. They expect me to beg, but I refuse to give them the satisfaction.
My vision is swimming, the ground under my feet wobbling.
At least one of my ribs is definitely broken.
I can’t draw a full breath, no matter how hard I try.
But that’s not enough to stop me. Nothing is.
I think of Sevrin… of what they’re doing to him, alone and outnumbered, his beautiful face smashed to a pulp.
I think of the last time I saw him, the love in his eyes, and it makes my entire chest ache in a different way.
The urge to get back to him is so strong it’s like a second skeleton inside my body, shoving me forward even as the pain gets worse.
They drag me, half-carrying, half-pushing, toward the edge. The drop is sheer, water churning below like an angry god. There’s no moon, but the clouds glow with lightning, painting everything in pale, ugly strokes.
“Hold her,” says the first voice—the ringleader, I guess. “Let’s make sure she sees what happens when you spit on your own kind.”
They yank me so my toes dangle over the edge. The wind tugs at my hair, making my eyes water.
Ebron!
I am searching. Hold on.
“This is insane,” I shout, twisting to look at them. “You’re disobeying your king. You're killing your princes’ wife. You have to know you’re being traitors. That you’ll be killed for this.”
“No,” the leader says, “Thorne reassured us that the king wasn’t in his right mind when he made this peace agreement, and that he’ll honor all of us for our devotion to the crown in his time of weakness.”
“Open your eyes!” I yell, voice shattering. “The king wants peace! The princes—”
“And they’re wrong!” he shouts. “They’re mad!”
They’re not listening. There’s nothing I can say to change their minds. Their hatred for the Hollowborns surpasses everything, including logic. All Elder Thorne did was give them a reason to keep the war going, and they snatched it right up.
“You and your Hollowborn asshole are going to die,” the leader growls.
I pivot on my heel and spit in the ringleader’s eye. He reels back, and for a second I almost get free, almost. But one of them jams his elbow into my gut, right where the rib’s broken, and I black out for a moment. All my fight is gone.
When I come to, they’re holding me by the arms, dangling me like a sack of trash. The ocean screams below. The rocks glitter wet and sharp.
They’re going to throw me over the cliff. I love you, Ebron. I love my men. Tell them for me.
“Any last words, Princess?” says the ringleader, mock bowing.
I bare my teeth. “The second the princes find out about this, you’re all dead.”
He laughs. “Enjoy the swim.”
And then they let go.
I fall.
The wind rips the scream from my throat before I can make a sound. For a moment, there’s only the pounding of my heart and the icy winds tearing at me. The water rushes up like a promise: black, bitter, and final.
I wonder if Sevrin’s already dead. I wonder if my princes will be able to save him. Closing my eyes, I brace for the crash.
I expect cold water and oblivion, but what hits me is a slab of wet, reptilian muscle, so solid it nearly breaks my teeth. For a second, I don’t know up from down. Then I realize I’m alive, and that I’m wedged between Ebron’s horns, arms clinging to the horns of his head like a lifeline.
Screaming, partly from terror, partly from relief, I cling to him tightly. Ebron’s wings snap open, catching the wind before we crash into the surf. The force flattens me to his skull.
You saved me.
I will always save you.
We soar up from the rocks and to the top of the cliff.
I adjust, trying to ride Ebron’s head more gracefully.
The claws of his forelimb snap up and catch two of the dragon riders who had just watched me fall; they don’t even get to scream before he uses his teeth to crunch them in half and flings their bodies into the churning sea.
Ebron launches himself upward, jaws open wide, and breathes a stream of flame that melts the cliff face, sending stone and soldiers tumbling in a black avalanche.
The rest of the dragon riders scatter, howling curses and prayers, but Ebron is relentless.
He lands with a quake that shakes the bones of the world, bellowing so loud it cracks the air.
I curl up between his ears, shaking. My coat is shredded and soaked through, and my side is a hot, throbbing mess. Every movement costs me a mouthful of pain.
They hurt you, Ebron thinks, and the words buzz my skull, gentle and immense.
“I know, but I’m okay. You just can’t let them hurt Sevrin,” I wheeze, voice raw. “They’re going to kill him—please, please, find him—”
I will. And I will tell the others to search for him.
He launches skyward, an arrow of rage and darkness.
My vision streaks with tears and wind and blood, but I hold on as he banks toward the fortress.
The ramparts are alive with dragon riders, some scrambling to arm the ballistae, others just running for their lives.
Ebron’s jaws snap up two more men in a single pass, and the sound is sick but satisfying.
I hear screaming, not just from the humans, but from the dragons above.
I squint and see a trio of them, Sylvara, Verdraxa, and Nythera, circling high, wings flashing in the moonlight.
They’re attacking the dragon riders’ dragons, fighting with teeth and claws.
A thread of relief moves through me. If they’re fighting, they’ve already told the princes what’s going on, and they’ll be here to help soon.
“Find Rosanthra!” I yell, not sure if my voice will reach over the wind, but Ebron’s mind is already searching. “Tell her to find Sevrin.”
She has him in her sights. But he is weak. Hurt.
My stomach flips. “Go!” I choke, pounding his scales.
We arc over the rocky cliffs below, and I spot a flash of pink, Rosanthra, racing to the edge of another cliff.
On the cliff’s edge, four Gore Rock riders have Sevrin pinned to the ground.
He’s not moving. His chest is bare, and the men are taking turns pounding his face and ribs, laughing as they go.