Warriors of Wind and Ash - Page 93

“And yet I’ve won.” Rahzien’s teeth glint through his red beard, a savage smile. “Because you can’t kill me.”

I bring my muzzle close to his face and bare both rows of my sharp teeth. “Not yet.”

28

Two of Kyreagan’s rebel friends, Odrash and Kehanal, drive Rahzien toward the palace in the prisoner’s cart, while Kyreagan and I glide over them, flying just above the peaks of the rowhouses and tenement buildings. I don’t like that we’re the only escort available for such a high-value prisoner, but the other dragons and fighters are needed elsewhere. Kyreagan will have to serve as backup if anything goes wrong on the ground.

His wings have two small bullet holes, and although the wounds don’t prevent him from flying, I can sense the extra bit of drag, the slight struggle to stay on course and keep up his speed.

I keep my eyes trained below, on the chaos in the streets as the people realize what’s happening and either shut themselves up in their homes and shops, or grab weapons and join the fight. The rebels drive groups of two or three Vohrainian soldiers from narrow streets into wider avenues where the dragons can finish them off.

“Their helmets and uniforms make them easy targets,” I comment to Kyreagan.

“So they do,” he rumbles. “Are you well?”

“Yes. Although I feel as if we should be doing more to help.”

“You’ve done enough. I feel better with you safely on my back, out of the fray. It’s bad enough that I have to keep you near him.”

I wince, glancing down at the prisoner’s cart, which has turned left into an alley to avoid a burning wagon and a knot of people fighting. As the cart proceeds down the alley, a cluster of five Vohrainians emerge from a building.

It seems as though they will bypass the cart at first, but something stops them. I’ll bet my ass Rahzien heard them outside and yelled to get their attention.

The Vohrainians converge on the cart and begin attacking Odrash and Kehanal.

“Kyreagan!” I exclaim.

“I see them.” He dives, then pulls up again, growling in frustration. “The street is too narrow for me to land.”

“Shit.” I lean farther to the side, watching the two rebels battle the guards. “They’re outmatched, Ky. What do we do?”

But before Kyreagan can answer, a black-clad figure races out of the shadows and leaps into the fray. Even though we’re high above the group, I spot the glitter of knives as the newcomer barrels through the cluster of Vohrainian soldiers, slashing, twirling, leaping. The soldiers fall, one by one, cut down before they realize what’s happening.

“Who is that?” I exclaim.

Kyreagan replies, with a rumble of satisfaction. “I think that’s Aeris.”

“The woman who came to my room and took samples?”

“The very same.”

“So she’s back. Do you think she has a cure for me?”

“If she does, I plan to incinerate Rahzien the moment you’re free.”

I shift uneasily on his back. I want Rahzien dead—I do. He treated me horribly, and he was the driving force behind Lady Cathrain. If she deserved death, he deserves it more. I’m not sure I have it in me to end another life, but if Kyreagan is offering, who am I to deny him that pleasure?

“You’re quiet.” Kyreagan’s deep voice penetrates my thoughts. “Do you not wish him dead, Serylla? Or have you softened toward him?”

“No,” I reply. “I haven’t softened. He deserves death, of course. It’s just—there’s been so much death, and…”

My throat tightens suddenly, and I can’t speak. I keep seeing flashes of myself in the Sorcerer’s study—the way I sawed through Cathrain’s throat, hacked at her spine, wrenched at her skull until it ripped free—

“Ky, I’m going to throw up.”

He swerves aside and lands on the flat roof of a tenement building. I slide off his back and bend over, a dry retch breaking from my throat. Though I gag several more times, nothing comes up, and after a few seconds I sit down, dizzy and faint. My breath is shallow, panicked, and my heart is racing.

The great black dragon looms behind me, a silent, steady presence.