Chapter 41 Brynn
brYNN
“Looks like… Ariella and Raelle Rogon…” Nyssa whispers as we cut across a scorched courtyard, following the women toward the oldest part of the academy.
The part where the deepest chambers are carved.
“Cousins,” Nyssa adds.
That would explain the likeness, but I don't know much about Raelle. Esme might have mentioned her only briefly. Something about her being a bitch.
Shit.
“They’re going for the trial room,” I hiss, my voice lost in the shriek of a dragon overhead. I just know it in my bones. Why else would they be headed in this specific direction? Ariella could’ve sleuthed and figured out where it is. The snitch.
Nyssa’s eyes widen. “What trial?”
“The one that’s going to save us or get us all killed. Either way, they can’t interrupt it.”
We cut through a collapsed archway with greater urgency, the air thick with dust and smoke.
Dragons are much faster than me, their long-limbed strides eating up the ground—even Ariella, who apparently recovered swiftly from her injuries.
We have to intercept them before they reach the final corridor.
I point toward a narrow service passage, a shortcut I used a thousand times to sneak extra books out of the restricted archives.
“This way.”
We pound down the passageway for what feels like two agonizingly long minutes, then burst through the emergency exit into the long corridor that leads to Merlin’s chamber.
And there they are. Twenty yards ahead, their trajectory obvious.
“Stop!” The word rips out of my throat.
They turn, and the dragon with Ariella—Raelle, her face a sharper, crueler echo of her cousin’s—smiles. It is not a pleasant expression. “Look, cousin. The librarian and… her new pet?” Her expression darkens as she recognizes Nyssa, clearly demanding, What are you doing with her?
Nyssa shifts, a twitch of her fingers betraying nerves, but she doesn’t leave me. Yet.
Ariella’s gaze is now cold, hard. A far cry from the trembling dragon we saved. I wonder if all of that was an act, a front to stop us from killing her in her vulnerable state. Either way, her injuries were superficial.
And here I thought we’d shared a moment.
“Get out of our way, darkblood,” Ariella says. “We have no quarrel with you. Our target is the kinslayer’s whore.”
Wow. Five-star gratitude right there.
My blood freezes, then boils. I take a step forward, my hands balling into fists. Nyssa grabs my arm, her grip strong. “Don’t,” she murmurs. “They’ll kill you.”
“She will destroy everything,” Raelle says, her voice ringing with zealous conviction—or perhaps just spite. Wasn’t she that other chick who fancied Dayn? “The Ides will unmake the world. We are here to prevent that.”
“You’re doing a decent job of that already,” I snap.
“A necessary sacrifice.”
Nyssa steps in front of me, her chest rising with a deep breath. “Stop this, Ariella… Raelle. This is madness.”
“The only madness is siding with them, Nyssa,” Ariella retorts sharply. “What in the hells has gotten into you lately? Leave, or we’ll make you.”
I glance at the silver-haired dragon. According to what she said before Esme and I left Draethys, she was supposed to try to convince at least Colonel Rogon not to side with Anees. Maybe she succeeded in that and that’s why he got arrested, but his daughter and niece were less…. persuadable.
Either way, I’ve got at least two dragonesses of a problem.
For some reason, Nyssa doesn’t move. Her jaw sets. “No.”
But that’s all the warning we get. Raelle moves in a blur, her hand lashing out—first at me. I see a flash of gold light, feel a searing heat, and then Nyssa is there, intercepting the blow with her forearm. There’s a disturbing crack, and Raelle hisses, stumbling back, but she holds her ground.
The fight spirals into a chaotic, brutal mess. Nyssa is snappy and powerful but her movements are hampered by the need to protect me. Ariella and Raelle become like a synchronized storm of violence, their attacks weaving together seamlessly.
Raelle conjures a spear of solid, blinding light and hurls it at me. Nyssa moves, a silver flash, and bats it aside with an arm that glows with her own defensive magic. The impact throws her back a step, her arm smoking. While Nyssa is off-balance, Ariella’s eyes home in on me.
I am a liability. A squishy, bespectacled target in a fight between creatures with a frankly ridiculous power-to-mass ratio. I need to stop being the target and start being a threat.
I backpedal, trying to create a sliver of space, a single second to think. “Angus!” I whisper, my voice tight, the name a prayer to my stubborn, bar-fighting, distant uncle of a Salem ghost. “Ezekiel, you owe me!”
The air around my hands grows cold, the familiar tingle of a connection beginning to form. I feel a spectral presence stir, a faint whisper against my mind.
It’s not fast enough. Before the connection can solidify enough for their power to flow through me, a boot slams into my ribs.
The world explodes in a starburst of white-hot pain. A crack, wet and loud, echoes inside my own skull. The air punches out of my lungs in a choked gasp and I go down, hard, my head smacking against the stone floor.
The corridor becomes a nauseating smear of light and shadow. I see Nyssa, a blur of silver, locked in a furious exchange with Raelle, whose hands are blazing with golden energy. Nyssa yells my name, a sound distorted by the ringing in my ears, but she can’t get free.
A shape resolves out of the blur above me. Ariella. Her face is a bronze oval, her eyes glittering with cold triumph. She crouches, one hand glowing with the same lethal light as her cousin’s spear.
“This is for the dishonor your family has brought upon our kind,” she snarls, and the light intensifies, ready to unmake me. I try to move, to crawl, but my body is a useless lump of agony.
This is it. This is how the librarian dies… along with the burning library.
A roar splits the air—not the roar of a dragon. It sounds like something wrenched out of hell itself.
A blur of crimson and black slams into Ariella, throwing her sideways with impossible force. She hits the far wall with a sickening crunch of bone and stone, her light sputtering out.
I squint, trying to make sense of the new shape standing where Ariella was. It’s tall, broader than any man, its skin the color of dark embers. Its hands end in glistening black claws that drip with fresh blood. It turns its head, and two eyes of solid, burning crimson fix on me. And I know him.
The demon takes a step toward Ariella’s crumpled form. She’s trying to push herself up, one arm bent at a horrifying angle, a choked sob escaping her lips.
The demon doesn’t hesitate. It moves with a predator’s grace, its claws scything through the air.
Ariella’s scream is cut short by a wet, tearing sound that will haunt me for the rest of my life.
When the creature straightens, its chest heaving, it is holding Ariella’s still-beating heart in its claws.
It crushes it, the organ bursting like an overripe fruit, and lets the remains drop to the floor.
Raelle lets out a strangled cry of horror, her own attack faltering. She stares at the monster, then at her cousin’s body, and for the rarest moment, I see fear on a dragon’s face.
The demon turns its head slowly, its molten gaze sweeping over Raelle, then Nyssa, before finally landing back on me, curled and broken on the floor. The fury in those eyes softens for a fraction of a second, replaced by a flicker of something else. Something protective… Possessive.
“Chad?” I whisper, the name a ragged, bloody thing in my throat. “What’re you… doing here?”
The demon doesn’t answer, but his gaze almost feels like a physical weight, pinning me. The moment is shattered by Raelle’s scream, a sound of pure, unadulterated hatred. “You… abomination!”
From my painful vantage point, I see a sun ignite between her hands, a condensed ball of golden fury aimed at Chad’s back.
But Nyssa is already a blur of motion. Shimmering bronze chains erupt from her direction and whip around Raelle’s legs and arms, binding her, smothering her spell before it can land.
Raelle’s golden light implodes, blasting a crater in the corridor wall. Raelle roars, straining against Nyssa’s magic, her face a mask of disbelief and rage.
It’s all the opening the demon needs.
He pivots, impossibly fast, and closes the distance in a single, flowing step. My vision swims with pain and I hear a sharp, choked gasp, followed by another wet, final sound.
Gods.
When my eyes focus again, Raelle is limp in the dissolving silver chains, her head hanging at an impossible angle.
The demon stands over her, one clawed hand dripping.
Nyssa’s magic falters, and Raelle’s body crumples to the floor beside her cousin’s.
Nyssa stands frozen, her arms still outstretched, her hands trembling.
Her face is a canvas of shock, pale and drawn.
Her gaze darts between the two bodies—her kin, her people—and then to the demon-thing that is Chad, and finally to me, lying broken on the floor.
This wasn't a calculated act of war for her; it was purely reactionary. She saw Raelle about to kill Chad, kill me, and she acted. She felt guilt over what she did to Esme’s uncle, and she chose to help me.
And now she’s staring at the consequences, at more blood and ruin, with the horrified eyes of someone who never wanted to make a choice at all. Her breath hitches, a sound on the verge of a sob, and she looks like she’s going to be sick right here in this hallway.
She might be a dragon trained for combat, but her soul clearly isn’t built for war.
Silence descends, broken only by my ragged breathing. Two dead dragons. In less than a minute.
The demon turns, its crimson gaze finding me again. He moves toward me, and I instinctively brace, even as my brain screams this is still Chad, he won't hurt me.