I didn’t want to fight him. Not that I was afraid; despite his exalted position and claims of holiness, he was only a man. And it didn’t matter who or what you were, be it human, dragon or saint; everything could bleed, and everything could die. But I already had the blood of my former brothers on my hands, staining my conscience. If I killed the Patriarch, the divine, God-chosen leader of St. George, I would be forever marked.
But we had come too far, and it was far too late to turn back now. I thought of Ember and Riley, and the underground of rogue dragons, dragons who just wanted to be free. I thought of Jade, risking her life to protect the monastery, refusing to leave her monks to the mercy of the Order. And of Tristan, who had brought me here despite all his misgivings, who’d upheld his end of the bargain even though it could cost him dearly. Maybe even his life. The Order had to change, that much was certain, but change required more than one voice. It would require action, sacrifice, the stubbornness to see it through to the end. I’d been willing to die tonight, to be the voice that started the questions and the doubts, however small they were. Was I willing to kill for it, as well?
The chamber, I realized, had grown deathly silent. Everyone was watching me, waiting for my answer. Martin stood in front of me, solemn and grave, knowing either choice could change the Order forever. Tristan remained at my side; he hadn’t moved the whole time, silently telling everyone where he stood. And looming over us all, the Patriarch watched me with a faint, sinister smile, knowing that, whatever my decision, he could still win the day.
I couldn’t let that happen. For the innocent lives I’d taken, for Riley and Jade, and for a fiery red dragon who completely owned my heart, I would not let this man be responsible for any more deaths. And if the Order was destroyed as a result, let that be the beginning of the change. Let it start right here.
I raised my voice, and the room seemed to hold its breath as I made my decision.
“I accept.”
EMBER
Nearly midnight, and still no Garret.
I sat on his bed, gazing at the clock on the nightstand and feeling the silence thud in my ears. The rest of the rooms were silent. Wes was huddled over his computer and Riley, after his defiant confession that had made my insides ache with longing and guilt, had left me alone. Waiting for a soldier that might not come back.
The clock flipped to midnight, and my heart twisted with every minute that passed, every moment that went by not knowing where he was, what was happening to him. Was he okay? Had he managed to get to the Patriarch and the rest of the Order? Or had St. George imprisoned him, or even killed him? The worst part was, if Garret was in trouble, if he’d been taken captive or struck down by the Order that raised him, I’d never know.
The door opened and closed quietly, and I looked up, heart pounding. Soft footsteps walked down the hall, and then Garret appeared in the door frame, looking grave and exhausted, but alive. He gave a weary smile as he stepped into the room.
“Hey, dragon girl. I’m back.”
I skirted the bed, crossed the room and launched myself into his open arms. He hugged me tight, desperate relief flaring around us both.
“So, it worked?” I whispered, pulling back to look at him. “The Order actually listened to you?” Of course, they must have, otherwise he wouldn’t be here now. I gave a breathless laugh and grinned up at him. “I can hardly believe you pulled it off.”
But Garret’s eyes clouded, and he shook his head. “Not yet,” he murmured. “It’s not over yet. There is one more thing that I have to do.”
*
Dawn. On the salt flats just outside the city. Stepping out of the car, I gazed around in amazement. The ground beyond the railing was white, like snow, and stretched away before us, so flat and empty it seemed you were looking at the edge of the world. The splash of red against the horizon seemed a million miles away. Lifting a hand to shield my eyes, I stared over the landscape. There was absolutely nothing out there; no grass, no trees, nothing but a cracked, brittle layer of salt, glittering coldly in the predawn light.
“Well,” Riley said, exiting the driver’s seat and coming to stand beside me, “this is it. Hell of a place for a duel to the death, St. George. I’d make a comment about rubbing salt in the wound if it wasn’t so obvious.” He turned as Garret’s footsteps crunched over the ground, a moment before he appeared on my other side. “You’re absolutely sure this isn’t an ambush? I don’t like the idea of being out here with the Order, in the literal middle of nowhere.”