A cry of shock emerged from his throat, and for a moment, all she could see was her own magic glinting off sharp teeth and rippling muscles. At the back of his mouth was a cavernous pit of darkness, and that was what Esofi hurled herself toward now. The stench was unbearable, but she hardly had time to consider it before the world burst into painful flames that tore at her protective shield and singed her hair.
Esofi did not waste her energy by screaming. Instead, she struggled to move on the soft, squishy interior of the emperor’s mouth. It was his tongue, she realized, and he was curling it, trying to force her into the path of his teeth.
Using her magic, Esofi forged a lance and plunged it into the base of the dragon’s mouth, clinging desperately to it. For just a moment, she caught a glimpse of the night sky as the emperor opened his mouth and bellowed in pain. His head tilted upward, so she released the lance and rolled toward the back of his throat.
As she moved, she pulled in every drop of magic she had, sinking it back into her core. Even the shield was sapped away as she funneled it into its source at the heart of her very self. She drew it in, in, in, compressing it down as tightly as she could force it to go. It trembled within her, straining to go somewhere, burning and aching—
Finally, when Esofi could stand the pain no longer, she released it.
A single wave of light seared her vision for the briefest of moments before the blackness overtook her.
ESOFI OPENED HER eyes and gazed into a sapphire sky studded with stars, clear and bright and oddly close. Her head was rested against soft leaves, and she sat upright carefully, surprised by the lack of pain in her body.
Birsgen was gone, instead replaced by quiet wilderness.
She looked around, shaking dry leaves and flower petals from her hair. In front of her were the smoldering remains of a campfire, and just beyond that was a woman, dressed in the heavy, coarse clothing of a hunter, who poked at the embers with a long stick.
“What happened?” Esofi murmured.
“You threw yourself into the emperor’s mouth,” said the woman. “An unorthodox strategy, to be sure.”
“I’m dead, then,” said Esofi, with the distinct feeling that she’d been cheated of something. Tears of bitter disappointment sprang to her eyes as she thought of everything she hadn’t had time to accomplish.
“No, Princess,” said the woman patiently, and it was in that moment that Esofi knew that she was no more a woman than the unicorn had been a horse. “You are not dead. You are, however, badly injured. But you will live. I only brought you here because I thought it was time we talked.”
Realization struck Esofi, and it was like waking from a dream. “I—I’m sorry!” she babbled. “I had no idea—I only—I was taught they were animals, wild animals, nobody knew, none of us knew—they would have destroyed us if we hadn’t—”
Talcia raised a hand, and Esofi immediately fell silent. “I know. How quickly things have changed. Once they were wise and noble. But now you have surpassed them. It has been…difficult.” Talcia looked away. “In the beginning, I only granted my gifts to my children. But the races of Men were so numerous and so full of love. So many voices, so many prayers. I could not resist you for long.”
“And the dragons became too wild even for you?” guessed Esofi.
Talcia’s mouth lifted in a brief smile. “Never. Impossible. Make no mistake—it is not wildness I object to. It is evil. Cruelty. Greed. Gluttony. That is why I revoked my gifts.” Her gaze met Esofi’s, and Esofi had the sudden sickening sensation that she was falling through the sky. But then the goddess blinked, and she was back in her body again.
“Perhaps it was my own error,” said Talcia quietly. “To make them so magnificent that they believed themselves infallible.”
“The emperor was angry,” said Esofi. “He was jealous. He believed you loved Men more than the dragons.”
Talcia laughed, and for a moment, Esofi caught a glimpse of her the way the dragons saw her: an enormous dragon, twice as large as the emperor had been, with gleaming ebony scales and burning yellow eyes.
“Men?” she asked. “With your carefully tended fields and elaborate palaces? With ribbons in your hair and bread in your hearths? You play in the woods for an hour and think you know wildness. You have touched it with a fingertip, nothing more. Still—” She seemed thoughtful. “I will see to him next. I expect we have much to discuss. But you need to focus your worries upon the living.”
“What do you want from me?” asked Esofi.
“The very thing you want from yourself,” said Talcia. “You mean to be the queen of Ieflaria, do you not?”
“I don’t know if that’s going to happen,” Esofi admitted sadly.
“No?” Talcia tilted her head. “After everything, you have lost your desire?”
“It’s not that simple,” said Esofi. “I would have chosen Adale. But it would seem she has not chosen me.”
“How very mistaken you are,” said Talcia.
Esofi opened her mouth to ask what she meant, but the goddess interrupted.
“You doubt me? I think not. Now go. And I don’t want to see you here again for another sixty years.”
She awoke.
ESOFI OPENED HER eyes again. Stony pain filled every inch of her body, and her vision was blurry. Something was dripping into her eyes.
“Princess?” Esofi was just able to make out a woman’s shape before her. “Can you hear me, Esofi?”
Esofi nodded, but the motion sent a wave of nausea shuddering through her body. “The emp—” she began, but her mouth was filled with dry ash, and the rest of her words were lost to a hacking cough.
“We need a healer!” bellowed Adale to someone she could not see. “Don’t move, please, please! We’ll get this all cleared in a moment!”
Already, some of the heavy pain was being lifted away from her, but there was still something pressing uncomfortably against her stomach and arms.
“The emperor?” Esofi asked again, wiping her face on her shoulder, but it did no good—her shoulder was similarly stained. Someone—a healer wearing the robes of a priest of Adranus—wiped at her face with a cloth, and Esofi could see again. She realized the heavy things crushing her body were not stones, but enormous chunks of dragon flesh, and it was blood that stained her from head to toe.
Adale was still gazing down at her, face streaked with tears, her arms wrapped around Esofi’s shoulders.
“I’m so sorry,” whispered the crown princess in a broken voice. “Gods, Esofi, I’m such a fool. I’m so sorry.”
“Why?” asked Esofi, still feeling a little dazed.
“Princess!” That was Captain Henris. “Thank the gods! Are you all right?” He entered her field of vision, and the toll that the battle had taken on him was obvious. His robes were torn and singed, and his face was covered in dry ash.
“What happened to the emperor?” Esofi insisted.
“There,” said Henris, gesturing to something large and unmoving a few hundred yards away. It looked like the emperor, but its head was missing, blown off at the neck. “The others fled when it fell.”
It was only the fact that she had refrained from eating anything all day long that saved Esofi from retching onto the street.
“You jumped on its back,” said Adale in an oddly shaky tone, “and then you leapt into its mouth! Are you mad? I thought you were going to die just like Albion—” Her words turned into a pained wail, and she began to sob.
Suddenly feeling deeply guilty but unable to free her arms, Esofi pressed her cheek to Adale’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I worried you,” she whispered.
Adale rested one hand behind Esofi’s head, stroking her wet hair, but said nothing more.
“I’m sorry. And I probably smell terrible, too.”
Adale burst into laughter even as she continued to cry. “You’re right, you do!” She sobbed. “Also, you—you, you have no eyebrows!”
Esofi laughed, but for some reason, it came out as tears.
Adale looked alarmed. “No, I didn’t mean it like that! No, you’re still beautiful. They’ll grow back. Please don’t cry!”