21. Arthur #3
“Yes,” she said sharply. “They could be tracing it. That could be how those other dragons keep finding us. Ugh.” She dragged a hand through her hair. “Amateur move. I should have caught that sooner.”
I stared at her, then down at the phone. “They can do that? You have yours.” I had never cared too much to make myself literate with human technology.
“Yes,” she said, waving it off. “But I’m a human. They don’t know who I am. You’re like a prince—and you’ve been after this information for a long time.”
“Alpha,” I corrected automatically.
“Whatever,” she said, already reaching for the phone. “You’re important.”
The corners of my mouth lifted despite everything. “You are brilliant.”
She huffed, annoyed. “Flattery will not save us.”
“What should I do with it?” I asked, holding it out.
She reached for it, but before I could let it go, the air shifted. Every instinct I had screamed at once.
I looked up.
The sky darkened as shapes cut through the clouds. One. Then many. Wings beating in a pattern I knew too well. Smaller dragons fanned outward, forming a loose ring, and behind them—
One very large dragon.
Its presence bent the space around it through sheer force of will.
I snarled before I could stop myself, stepping in front of Artemis, my body already angling to shift and shield her.
So much for subtlety.
We had been found.
My body went to full alert.
Wings. Distance. Numbers. Angles.
The shapes cutting through the sky resolved quickly enough that my pulse eased instead of spiked. The formation was familiar. The lead silhouette unmistakable.
Hadrian.
Relief hit me so fast, it was almost dizzying. He’d followed to help. Or to check on us. Or—
Fire exploded from his throat.
There was no warning. Just heat and fury tearing through the air toward us in a blinding, roaring wave.
I didn’t think.
I moved.
The force of it drove us hard into the ground, my body curling around Artemis as the fire slammed overhead.
I felt it rake across my back, brutal, scorching heat close enough to blister even through my scales as they surged instinctively to the surface.
Stone cracked. The ground screamed. The world narrowed to pressure and sound and the absolute necessity of keeping her beneath me.
When it stopped, the silence was deafening.
I lifted my head, heart hammering, and found her face inches from mine. Soot-streaked, wide-eyed, but alive.
“Are you hurt?” I asked, my voice rough.
She shook her head.
Relief slammed through me so hard my elbows went numb.
I turned to rise, but she grabbed my collar.
“Arthur,” she said, sharp enough to cut through everything. When I looked back, she pulled me down and kissed me.
It was quick and desperate and searing.
“Don’t die,” she said.
Something in my chest cracked open.
I launched myself forward.
I didn’t have time to shift before Hadrian slammed into me. The impact drove me face-first into the stone. Breath left my lungs in a harsh rush. I fought uselessly as his weight pinned me, magic pressing down like a vise.
Around us, the smaller dragons landed and shifted mid-motion.
Human hands grabbed Artemis.
“No,” I snarled, twisting, fighting the hold on my neck. My gaze locked on her as she struggled against the three men restraining her. She fought like hell, refusing to surrender.
“Easy,” one of them said calmly toward me. “Do anything stupid and your little human pet gets hurt.”
Pet.
The world went red-hot behind my eyes.
Hadrian released me and shifted. Scales gave way to skin, wings collapsing into nothing. He stood tall and composed, clothes pristine, expression almost amused.
“Arthur,” he said pleasantly. “You’ve done something remarkable.”
I dragged myself upright, shaking with rage and disbelief. “What is this?”
He flashed a smile that was pure satisfaction. “You finally found the last piece.”
My thoughts skidded along uselessly. “You’ve been playing me this whole time,” I said hoarsely.
I’d always feared that when my people needed strength, all I would have to offer was ideas and thought. And that had come true here today.
Hadrian laughed. “Playing is such an inelegant word.”
“What do you want?” I demanded. “My position? My title? Take it. Just let her go.”
He shook his head, still smiling. “It’s not that simple, cousin.”
He turned toward the water, picking up the compass where it had fallen in the chaos. He began to chant ancient, draconic words layered with magic that made the air vibrate. The syllables grew louder, more insistent, until the ground beneath our feet began to tremble.
He hurled the compass into the sea.
Water churned violently, waves crashing inward as if pulled by an unseen hand. The surface split, foam and spray tearing apart as the sea drew back from itself.
Stone emerged.
A carved staircase rose from the depths, descending straight into the earth beneath the island. The air hummed with power. With history. With something that had been waiting a very long time to be found.
Hadrian turned back to me, eyes bright, delighted.
“Come along,” he said lightly, gesturing toward the opening abyss. “You’re not going to want to miss this.”