My mouth drops, and power charges through my veins, so potent my hands buzz.
The wardstone is twice as large as the one in Aretia, as is the chamber that houses it, but unlike Aretia’s, the rings and runes carved into it are interrupted by a diamond pattern. And unlike our wards in Aretia, this wardstone is on fire, lit on top by black flames that sputter and flare as a dragon emerges from behind the left side of the stone, driving Mom and Mira back toward us.
Not just any dragon. Baide.
“Get out of there!” Tairn orders as Baide lowers her head, and I get a single glimpse of her eyes—opaque instead of golden—before Mom charges toward her nose, lifting her sword to swing.
Baide knocks her aside with a single swipe of her head, and Mom flies into the stone wall of the chamber, cracking her head before falling into a heap.
Xaden throws his hand out, and shadows stream past, grasping both Mira and Mom, pulling them back to us as Baide roars, steam and spit flying from her mouth.
She stalks forward, her talons clicking on the floor as she maneuvers around the stone, revealing Jack Barlowe in his seat on Baide’s back. The smile he gives me twists my stomach. “You’re right on time, Sorrengail.”
“Anytime you want to show up would be very appreciated,” I tell Tairn as Xaden’s shadows release Mira at my side but drag my mother’s unconscious body back through the archway.
I can’t wield in here, not without endangering everyone. Besides, the charge of the stone would draw every strike to it.
“It’s not exactly an easy location to get to,” Tairn growls in reply.
“What the hell are you doing, Barlowe?” Dain snaps.
“What I promised,” he answers, glee shining in his eyes.
Xaden sends another stream of shadows, this one shooting toward Barlowe, and Baide drops her jaw, her eerie eyes flashing as fire glows up her throat.
“Xaden!” I yell as Ridoc pushes past me—past all of us—and throws his arms forward, palms out.
“Get down!” Ridoc shouts, and I glimpse a wall of ice rising before us as Xaden pulls me into the shelter of his body and crouches. The chamber glows orange for a heartbeat, then two, as fire rages against the stone walls. Ridoc screams as the blast dies.
The second the fire ceases, we’re on our feet to face Barlowe and Baide, but the dragon has disappeared behind the wardstone again.
“I’ve got him!” Rhiannon rushes forward and hooks her arms under Ridoc’s, then hauls him back from where only a puddle marks where the wall of ice had stood. Nothing prepares me for the sight of Ridoc’s burned hands, blistered and bleeding.
“We’ll take the left,” Xaden says, glancing at me.
“Taking right,” Dain agrees, shooting a look at Mira, who nods.
Xaden and I run to the left, and I flip the dagger in my hand, pinching it by the tip in readiness to throw as we round the corner.
What the fuck?
Baide is up on her back legs, her front claws grasping the top of the flaming wardstone, and Barlowe isn’t in his seat. It takes a precious second we don’t have to spot him holding on to the top of Baide’s neck, clutching one of her horns.
Not even Xaden is fast enough to stop the downward plunge of Jack’s shortsword between the scales alongside Baide’s neck. The dragon’s cry shakes the foundation of the chamber and stops abruptly when Jack pushes the blade all the way through the front of her throat.
Jack’s head swings in our direction, and he wields with an outward-facing palm, throwing a shield that deflects Xaden’s shadows as blood sprays from Baide’s throat onto the wardstone. The black flames extinguish an instant before Baide collapses, her weight pitching forward.
The wardstone tips and Jack fumbles to hold on, giving me the perfect opportunity to flick my wrist and release the dagger.
I hear a satisfying cry as Xaden grabs hold of my waist, throwing up a wall of shadow that blocks out the chamber around us but doesn’t shield us from the noise of the stone crashing. Cracking.
The humming stops.
The wards have fallen.
At its core, magic demands balance.
Whatever you take will be recouped, and it is not the wielder who determines the price.
—MAGIC: A UNIVERSAL STUDY FOR RIDERS BY COLONEL EMEZINE RUTHORN
CHAPTER SIXTY
Xaden drops the shadows, and we both turn at the same time to survey the damage.
My heart seizes, and I reach for Xaden’s hand reflexively. The wardstone lies in two pieces on the ground, and there isn’t a flame in sight.
Holy Dunne, Navarre is defenseless.
There’s no seeing over Baide’s body to check on Mira, so I whip my gaze to the right, meeting Rhiannon’s wide eyes where she stands at the front of the archway, protecting Ridoc and my mother.
Jack stumbles backward from the blow of my dagger, a dazed but elated look twisting his face as he wrenches it from his shoulder and drops it to the floor.
“He only has minutes,” I whisper to Xaden.
Barlow has just killed his own dragon. It’s unfathomable. Impossible. And yet Baide is most certainly dead as Jack falls to his knees and laughs up at the sky fifty feet above us.
Mira appears, moving silently around Baide’s corpse, and Xaden gives her a subtle shake of his head when she lifts her sword. She keeps it poised for attack but doesn’t continue forward.
“You know you’re about to join your dragon, don’t you?” Xaden asks, his voice low as shadows move in riotous swirls at our feet.
“What are you doing?” I palm another dagger.
“Getting whatever information we can.” The utter calmness of his tone is unnerving.
“That’s the thing,” Barlowe says, his blond hair covering his forehead as he falls forward onto a hand. “I’m not. They have us thinking we’re the inferior species, but did you see how easily I controlled her? How easily the energy she bonded us with is replaced?” His eyes slide shut as his fingers splay on the stone.
“Jack! Don’t do this!” Nolon storms past Rhiannon, his features slackening when he takes in the destruction around him. “You…you’re better than this! You can choose!”
My chest tightens. “The way he said that is almost like he expected this.”
“Because he did,” Xaden answers, his gaze locked on Jack. “He wants to mend him. He’s been trying to mend him since May. He’s too weak to shield his intentions now.”
“Mend what? The injuries from the fall?”
Xaden’s brow furrows in concentration. “Jack’s turned venin. Somehow, he managed it within the wards.”
I think I might be sick.
“There is no choice!” Jack shouts. “And if there was, I made mine the second I saw her”—he shoots a glare my way—“bond the most powerful dragon available at Threshing. Why should they determine our potential when we’re capable of reaching for fate all on our own?”
Oh. Gods. His eyes have been bloodshot for so long. When did it happen? Before the fall. It had to have been before I wielded that first time. Back in the gym that day…
And I’ve thrown the wrong dagger.
“Baide,” Tairn growls, and I glance up to see his silhouette block out the stars far above us.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Magic requires balance,” Nolon argues. “It does not give without a price!”
“Does it?” Jack inhales, and the stones around him turn from a dark, slate gray to a dusky beige. “Do you understand how much power is beneath your feet?”
One block pales, then another, and another.
“Xaden—”
“I know.” Shadows shoot forward, knocking Jack backward and driving him across the floor before lifting him from the ground, pinning him in midair with an X across his torso. “When did you turn?” Xaden asks.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jack fights the binding, but Xaden closes his fist and the shadows snap even tighter.
“I know you’re going to tell me.” Xaden walks forward. “Because I have nothing to lose by killing you. So tell me when. Earn yourself a little good will.”