Chapter 55
My boots clicked against the stone steps as I climbed, careful not to spill the steaming coffee sloshing near the rim of my mug. At the top, I pressed my shoulder into the heavy iron door until it gave with a groan and stepped onto the rooftop.
Laney was already there, standing at the parapet, her figure framed against the pale morning sky. My fingers clenched around the warm ceramic of my favorite mug as the door slammed shut behind me.
The wind howled across the rooftop, tugging at her long curls and whipping them across her back. The winter leathers she wore caught the sunlight, the sheen making her look ethereal.
I forced my feet forward, each step dragging against the stone. “Good morning, Laney. What are you doing up here?”
She turned only partway, showing me the edge of her face but never quite meeting my gaze. Her arms hung stiffly at her sides, her whole body wound tight as a bowstring.
“You can’t trust him.”
Her voice was flat and hollow—like it didn’t come from her at all, but from the wind itself. My hands shook so violently the coffee sloshed over the rim, scalding my skin. I barely noticed.
“Trust who, Laney? Trust who?” My voice cracked as I inched closer.
The wind howled, sweeping strands of hair across my face. The air tasted like iron, sharp and wrong. My lungs burned as I held my breath, waiting. Waiting for her to answer.
“He is not on our side,” she hissed.
Then she climbed onto the parapet, her movements stiff, unnatural—and stepped over the ledge.
The sound of my scream tangled with the sharp crack of my mug shattering against the stone rooftop.
Warning bells yanked me from sleep.
I reached out to shove Rhodes awake, only to find his side of the bed cold and empty.
The sky outside was pitch-black, the kind of darkness that meant this alert was nothing friendly.
I jumped out of bed and yanked on a set of leathers.
The stone floor bit at my bare feet with cold. I sheathed my sword and daggers.
“What’s going on?” I asked Lakota, sensing he was awake too.
“Tyria has broken through the wards. I’m on my way to the front line now.”
I stormed out of the hut and was immediately swept into a surge of soldiers.
Doryan’s voice thundered over the din, barking orders and driving men and women to their stations.
An explosion erupted on a southern peak, hurling rubble through the air and clattering across the hut roofs. I ducked, shielding my head.
I coughed as dust rained down. The warning bells shrieked even louder, echoing off the cliffs. My heart hammered in my chest. I checked the marekem, but Fallon’s mental gates were up—I couldn’t reach her.
So I tried Lakota instead. “Where is Rhodes?”
“Noemi is in the skies. But no rider. He must be in battle.”
No. No, no, no.
I ran.
I shoved into the stream of soldiers, pushing against the press of bodies. Panic clawed at my throat.
“Rhodes!” Chaos swallowed my scream.
I ran toward the dragons—toward the lines of fire raining down from the sky.
The screams grew louder as I sprinted past soldiers rushing in the opposite direction.
I reached for Fallon again—not just to communicate, but to find her.
A gravitational pull surged through the marekem, guiding me forward.
I vaulted over a splintered wheelbarrow abandoned in the path. Lakota’s red-scaled belly swept into view above the ridge to my left, soaring low over the cliffs. I was one step from the swinging bridge when hands clamped down on my shoulders, yanking me aside.
“Scarlet,” a voice ground out. “You don’t want to see this.”
My eyes met Arrow Fitzroy’s, and rage surged. I shoved against him, but he tightened his grip. “Let me go!” I screamed.
Overhead, Lakota roared, a blast of fire streaking into the air in warning. Arrow’s gaze snapped skyward, then back to me. He was streaked with ash and blood, grime clinging to his skin. The sword strapped across his back was still slick with Tyrian red.
Lakota trilled again, wings slicing wind, but Arrow didn’t flinch. “Turn around!”
Without wasting a breath, I channeled air and blasted him back. His boots skidded through the dust as his hold broke. I launched onto the swinging bridge and spun around, snarling, “You left me for dead. You don’t get to protect me now.”
I ran across the swinging bridge, channeling my air element to steady each step. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst through my chest.
All I could think of was Rhodes. He had to be safe. He had to be okay.
I couldn’t lose him too.
I rounded the jagged corner of the stone peaks—and froze.
My heart dropped to my stomach. Nausea twisted through my gut. The world went muffled. All I could hear was the deafening beat of my pulse.
Bodies littered the rocky ground as far as I could see. Men and women—Aryan, Tyrian. Lifeless. Dragons of Hollow Summit perched silently on the cliffs, their wings tucked tight, watching over a field that had once been nothing but open stone.
Now, it was ruin.
Smoke curled from scorched patches of rock. Bones gleamed white in the ash. The marekem tugged at me—pulling my attention to the right. My lungs ached as I slowly lifted my gaze.
Fallon stood on a high ridge, bow still in hand. Even from this distance, I could see the toll on her face. Smoke curled around her as if she commanded shadows. Our eyes locked across the battlefield. Then she turned and disappeared from the peak.
Warriors of the Hollow brushed past, heading back toward the village. I stood frozen, numb, as the surviving crowd thinned around me.
And then—like the force of a wicked storm—I lost my breath.
“Scarlet?”
I spun at the sound of his voice. Rhodes stood there in war leathers and a scorched chest plate, a bloodied sword hanging loosely in his hand. His black hair clung to his face with sweat, and soot streaked across every inch of him. His gray-blue eyes scanned me desperately, searching for wounds.
I pressed my palms into his chest and shoved hard. His eyes widened.
I shoved him again. “How dare you!” I shouted.
He didn’t yell back. He just let me hit him—again and again.
“You left me!” My voice cracked on the words.
Something flickered in his eyes then. He caught my wrists, holding them gently but firmly.
“I woke up, and you were gone, Rhodes.”
His grip tightened, as if he could hold the weight of my grief too. His eyes searched mine, wild and frantic. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His jaw trembled, his lips pressing together like the words were trying to claw their way out.
Finally, he spoke. “I wanted to keep you safe, Scarlet. I didn’t want you caught up in battle.”
I squirmed in his hold. “And what do you think is going to happen at Mageia, Rhodes? I’ve trained for this every damn day!”
His jaw tensed. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
My heart cracked at his apology. I gritted my teeth. “If you’re running into battle, I’m running into battle. Where you go, I go. What part of ‘if you’re going down, I’m going down with you’ don’t you get?”
His throat worked. His grip loosened around my wrists, but he didn’t let go. Above us, the sound of wings thundered—Noemi circled overhead.
“I love you.”
My breath caught. My heart stopped.
“I’m sorry. And I love you.”
Rhodes’s storm-gray eyes glossed with emotion, and he smiled—that damn soft, amorous smile.
I channeled a torrent of air and fire to his chest, knocking him back as he let go of my wrists. I shoved him again.
“We are surrounded by death right now, and this is when you decide to tell me?!”
Rhodes didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“When I’m out here shoving you like a lunatic?!”
“Yes.”
I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I don’t care what I am. As long as I’m yours.”
“Oh, he’s smooth,” Lakota’s deep voice rumbled in my mind.
I bit my lip, fighting the grin pulling at my mouth. Behind Rhodes, Lakota landed on a jagged peak, his talons cracking the stone beneath him. He folded his wings, twisting his neck in a slow, serpentine motion.
Rhodes closed the distance between us. His hands framed my face—calloused thumbs brushing my cheeks. He pressed his forehead to mine.
“I will follow you through every realm. Through every life. Where you go, I go.”
The timbre of Rhodes’s words etched itself into my soul—something I knew I’d never forget. I nuzzled my forehead against his, my palms pressing over his hands, anchoring us both.
“I love you too.”