It wasn’t long before stone grated against stone as the door opened again. She lay motionless on the cot, facing the wall with the blanket pulled up to her ears, hoping whoever it was would leave her alone. A few rushed footsteps, the small clink of something being set on the floor beside her, and then the footsteps hurried away and the door rolled shut.
Probably someone who thought she was dangerous.
What a laugh.
Here she was, an orphan girl locked in a dragon’s jail cell with magical restraints, and somebody was scared of her.
She was scared. Terrified. The golden gloves didn’t hurt, but the gold-encrusted amulet felt heavy around her neck, and the muted whispers she could barely make out sounded frantic. She didn’t want to know what the dragon mage had planned for her any more than she wanted to know why the king’s mage was looking for her.
It all had something to do with the amulet. She wished she could tear it off and throw it away.
And yet the thought of doing so hurt.
Her only hope was Char, and she wasn’t even sure he was on her side. He’d brought her here, after all. If he’d really wanted to help her, why would he have done that? If he had just been trying to keep her from the king’s mage, couldn’t he have taken her somewhere else? Somewhere away from dragons who threatened to kill her on sight?
Father John had said there was no reason to fear dragons. He’d said they were just people, just like humans. He’d said magic wasn’t intrinsically bad.
But every dragon she’d met so far had frightened her out of her wits, and all the magic she’d encountered had brought her nothing except misery.
She wished she could talk to him right now. She knew he’d tell her to pray—and she was already doing plenty of that—but just hearing his calm voice would be a comfort. He had so much wisdom and such a gentle, understated way of sharing it.
She missed him. She missed Kayla. She missed everybody.
Hours passed.
She fell into a restless sleep, but the sound of the door opening jolted her awake. She sat bolt upright, shrinking back against the wall, pulling her knees up to her chest and the blankets up to her neck. The last person who’d entered had brought her a tray of food she hadn’t touched, and she didn’t think she’d be lucky enough for this to be someone who was just collecting the tray.
She watched the door roll away, her heart pounding out of control.
It was Char.
The lighting was dimmer than it had been earlier, but she had no trouble making out his green eyes. They met hers, just for a moment, and then he scanned the room, pausing on the untouched tray on the floor before coming back to her.
He took a step toward her, and she flinched.
He stopped, his eyes narrowing. “What did they do to you?”
She hesitated. His hushed voice told her he was trying not to be overheard—or pretending that was the case—and the way he halted his approach told her he was trying not to frighten her, but she couldn’t tell if any of it was genuine. She wanted to trust him, though.
She wanted to trust somebody.
What would it hurt to show him?
She pushed the blanket back, revealing her golden hands and the golden amulet. “It’s to keep me from using magic. I-it doesn’t hurt,” she added quickly when she saw a muscle pulse in his jaw. “It just, um… feels heavy.”
“Those idiots,” he muttered under his breath. He took a step closer and held out his hand to her. “Come on.”
She looked from his hand to his intense green eyes and back again. Was he trying to help her escape? After someone threatened him because of her?
She shook her head. “I-I don’t want to get you in more trouble.”
“You can heal Srot?”
“I… I don’t know.” She dropped her eyes to her golden hands and bit her lip. “Maybe before, but now…”
“‘Maybe’ is better than ‘no.’ Come on. We don’t have much time.”
This time, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. His sudden forcefulness startled her, but she didn’t resist him. If there was a chance she could help, she needed to try.
Even if she didn’t know how to use the amulet.
He led her out of the cell and into an empty stone hallway, and then he turned to the left, walking with silent, purposeful steps. When they reached an intersection, he paused just long enough to glance around before continuing with confidence in another direction. Another intersection, another pause, another turn.
He’d planned this route ahead of time. And if the cave’s low light level correlated with the time of day, as Iris was beginning to suspect, she guessed it was the middle of the night.
Suddenly, he stopped and pushed her against the wall behind him, trapping her between his broad back and the stone. Her heart sped up; his grip on her hand tightened; but then he reached his free hand back and rested his fingertips on her arm with a light touch. A simple gesture to wait.
She didn’t move, didn’t speak a word. Neither did he.
Muted voices approached.
“Won’t be long now, not if they can’t get the bleeding to stop.”
“I would’ve thought our mage could do something.”
“He’s done everything he can. They sent for another mage, but I doubt he’ll make it in time.”
Iris’ stomach churned. If the mage who sealed her magic couldn’t do anything for the dying man, what could she do? She didn’t even know how to use the amulet. This would just end badly for everybody. Srot would die, the dragons would kill her, and Char…
Would he die, too? Was that the unspoken threat from earlier? Was he risking his life on the chance she could heal someone?
The voices faded away. Char set out again, walking at a much brisker pace, making Iris trot to keep up. They rounded another corner, and a horrible moaning echoed down the empty walls to her ears.
She stopped in her tracks. Char didn’t notice because he’d halted, too, holding out his hand again as a sign to wait. He muttered a curse under his breath. She didn’t hear it, nor did she see his hand.
Iris, heal him. You can heal him.
The whispers had burst through the golden wall around the amulet like a tidal wave, loud and intelligible, roaring in her ears, telling her what to do. She pulled free from Char and took off running for the darkened room up ahead.
“Hey! Don’t—”
He grabbed for her, but she was already out of his reach, oblivious to his surprised shout. She only heard the agonized groans of the man lying on the bed, face slick with sweat, head turning from side to side. Blood stained the bandages on his arms, soaking through the layers of cloth someone was pressing to his stomach. She shoved the person aside and tore the bloodied rags from the open wound.
It was deep. So deep.
She gagged, but she couldn’t look away. The whispers wouldn’t let her. She swallowed bile and lay her left hand flat on the gaping hole, taking the amulet in her right hand.
A searing pain shot up her right arm.
She cried out and squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her fingers around the blazing hot stone, forcing the heat up her arm, across her chest, and down her left arm. The man on the bed cried out, too, and she flattened her fingers against the wound, pressing into the pain.
And then she was him. She was there on the battlefield, flying up in the sky, distracted by Char’s steep dive toward the wide-eyed young woman at the tree line. What was he doing?
There was a child down there, too, in the middle of the battlefield, scrambling to her feet behind the white shield the woman had conjured. The little girl bolted toward the stone church down below, and the shield disappeared as Char spewed a line of fire in front of the woman.
He was inches from the ground, too close to the mage and the archers.
She dove in, spewing her own fire to distract them. Metal glanced off her scales, a few arrows finding openings and scraping unprotected skin. She needed to pull up before—too late. One hit at just the right angle, penetrating between two scales on her stomach. She roared in anger and pain.
Then she was the blue flame licking the arrowhead. She was following it back down the shaft, back through time, back down its arcing path to the blue barrier and the cold blue eyes down below.
The mage’s eyes locked onto hers. They widened with momentary surprise, and then they narrowed with sadistic satisfaction.
So, that’s where you’re hiding.
She backed away, up the line of blue flames, trying to get away from those eyes. He could see her. Not then, but now. In the cave.
Then she hit a stone wall. Hard.
The blue eyes were gone, and she was slumping to the floor, the breath knocked out of her lungs by the impact. Her head was throbbing; her arms were itching; her stomach was on fire. She was struggling to hold on to consciousness.
“That’s it!”
Someone grabbed her by her collar and yanked her up off the floor. He slammed her into the wall again, and she forced her heavy eyes open.
Red eyes this time. Angry red eyes.
And then they and the hands at her collar were gone, and Char’s back was in front of her. She crumpled to the floor again, pressing her hand to her stomach and moaning in pain.
“Don’t you see? She just healed him!”
“What I see is a witch who—”
“Wait! He stopped bleeding!”
“Iris. Iris!”
So many voices. So much shouting.
Someone was shaking her shoulders. It was harder to open her eyes this time. So hard. She managed to do it, but darkness crowded the edges of her vision, making it difficult to focus on Char’s frantic green eyes. Her hand was warm. She held it up, and it wasn’t golden anymore. It was red. Bright red. Covered in Srot’s blood and hers, pouring from the open wound in her stomach.
“His wounds closed,” somebody said off in the distance.
“It’s—fine,” she said with difficulty.
Char was pressing something to her side, trying to stop the bleeding. “Stop talking. I need some help over here!”
“I just—need some sleep,” she mumbled. Her hand fell to her side.
“Stay with me, Iris!”
She couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. “I can’t… stay here…”
Voices were swirling around her, Char’s, others she didn’t recognize, some shouting, too many emotions. The whispers told her to go to sleep. The voices told her to stay awake. She fought both, trying to clear her head of the chaos as someone scooped her up on the outside.
The mage’s cold blue eyes flashed into her vision again.
That was very foolish of you, Iris.
She felt his touch in her mind, pushing into her head, and now she had a third force to fight, one that wanted to hear and see and feel what was going on.
“Go away,” she moaned, pushing back on him.
The air was snapping and crackling, or maybe it was just in her head, but it stung, it burned. She fumbled for the amulet and clutched it in her bloody hand. The whispers were beside her and behind her, working with her to fight him. His eyes narrowed as she forced him back. Sweat beaded on her forehead; fire ripped across her skin. She cried out and pushed herself up into a sitting position with her left hand, then she grabbed her head, digging her fingers into her scalp.
“Get out!”
Blinding white light shot through the cracks in her fingers, filling the room with her scream, forcing everybody around her to take several steps back.
When the light faded, she lay still on the bed. Blood dripped from her side, pooling on the floor, and the amulet was cold and lifeless in her limp hand.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbXkTM4h5sr
