The Dragon (Creasan #2)
Chapter 17

The sultan had led Thea, Fendrel, and Ana into what Thea assumed was his office or situation room. Bookshelves lined the walls while a single long obsidian table with a map carved into it took up the majority of the center. It was a dim room with no windows, only illuminated by the chandelier hanging directly above the table and the lamp standing in the corner.

Zaid sat at the head of the egg-shaped table and frowned at Thea standing among the royalty. “She should not be here,” he said.

“Thea Wyvern is a ruler in Creasan,” Fendrel answered without hesitation. “She needs to see this.”

Thea felt gratitude bloom in her chest and nodded her thanks to the prince while the sultan threw up his hands. “Very well. Have a look.” Zaid seemed as if his mind was miles away, eyes focused on the bracelet in his hands instead of on the map.

Ana approached the map first, frowning at the markers dotting the land. “What are these?”

“Points of conflict with the dragon,” the sultan answered.

Thea drew closer, brows furrowed as she examined it. “They seem scattered.”

The sultan didn’t respond.

Thea glanced at Fendrel who nodded with agreement. He said, “These markers are all over Qamizeh, even outside of the cities.”

Zaid’s eyes drifted closed as he squeezed the bracelet. He pressed a kiss to it before tucking it into his cloak. When he next opened his eyes, they were focused again. “No doubt you noticed the rather embarrassing state of the crown’s army earlier.” He didn’t wait for any affirmation before he continued, “Of course, they were formidable before the dragon’s arrival, but they were spread thin and picked off, soldier-by-soldier. It’s become clear that the beast means to decimate my forces so he can burn my country to the ground with no resistance.”

“Why?” Thea asked. “After all this time, why the sudden interest in taking over Qamizeh?”

The sultan shrugged. “I assume because he is a wild animal, and animals are violent by nature.”

“No,” Fendrel said softly, frowning hard as he tried to make sense of the map. “When we spoke to Aestus, there was clear sentience there. Malum must be the same. He is not acting on animal instinct.”

Ana stated, “Perhaps he has simply come to reclaim what is his.”

Thea felt her eyes open wide at the queen’s blasphemy. “None of this belongs to Malum,” she said quickly. “You know that.”

Ana didn’t respond, and Thea’s gaze fell to the sword at the queen’s waist. Rationally, Thea knew the queen had no experience with a sword. She might be able to pick it up, but Thea was certain she couldn’t do much more than that. Yet the very fact that she had thought to bring a sword at all made goosebumps prickle Thea’s arms.

Fendrel cleared his throat awkwardly and tried to bring attention back to the map. “So where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

Thea blinked. “But earlier you said—“

“If I knew his exact location, I wouldn’t have needed your help, would I?”

Thea rubbed her forehead tiredly. “You’re clueless, then.”

Zaid bristled and stood, pointing sharply at the map. “Look! Look what I have here.”

“This is meaningless,” Thea retorted. “All this shows is that attacks have occurred. It’s useless—“

“How dare you!” The sultan rounded the table and picked up a marker. “First attack, inside the city of Hamasan. Second attack, in the desert, by the sand dunes. Third, on the outskirts of Tamilem. Fourth, by the river. See a pattern, girl?”

Thea’s nostrils flared at his tone and she opened her mouth to respond with what was sure to be a biting insult, when Fendrel rested his hand on her shoulder. He gestured to the map, a small smile on his face. “Thea, look.”

She did, and she suddenly understood what the sultan was trying to say. She murmured, “The attacks alternate between populated and isolated areas.”

“Precisely. Always one or the other. Always at night.”

Fendrel added, “And they’re going in one direction.” He made a line with his finger. Though the markers weren’t directly beside one another, it was clear Malum was moving from south to north.

Ana asked, “Where was the most recent attack?”

“Here,” Zaid answered, touching a marker standing on its own. “The mountains south of Hamasan.”

“So a city is next.” Thea gazed over the map until her eyes locked on what appeared to be the next populated area. She rested her finger against it. “Where is this?”

“Yezahn. One day’s ride north of here.”

“That is where we will catch him.” Thea straightened, feeling more confident and in her element than she’d had in awhile. The ocean was not her fighting ground; nymphs and sea snakes were not creatures she knew. But strategy and dragons? That she did know. That she could handle. “Make ready your army,” she told the sultan. “We must gather weapons and supplies and head to Yezahn immediately.”

“My men will not go.”

Thea made eye contact with Fendrel, but it was Ana who said, “That is absurd. You cannot expect us to take on a dragon alone.”

“You misunderstand me.” Though Zaid had gotten heated for a moment, he now gazed at them remorsefully. “I would send them if I could, but they quite literally will not go. Since the fourth attack—which had the worst impact on my army’s numbers—they have flat out refused to pursue it.”

“Then you must get other men,” Fendrel said.

“I have tried. I’ve even set a monetary reward. No one will pursue it.”

Thea found herself glancing at Fendrel again. Though it had been unconsciously before, she now recognized that she had searched for his gaze multiple times during this conversation, and she did it once again in the hopes he would have a suggestion she hadn’t thought of. How could it be that there was a standing army that refused to fight? How could it be that even though there was another option, they were going to have to fight Malum on their own?

But Fendrel looked as uncertain as Thea did. His stormy blue eyes mirrored her anxiety, so Thea was left with nothing else to say other than, “Then I suppose we must gather our things and leave. Alone.”

Althalos bounced agitatedly on the toes of his feet as he listened to the sound of Rowan’s approaching footsteps. It had occurred to the little boy that much time must have gone by now, which must mean it was safe for him to come out of hiding. True, Althalos hadn’t been able to keep diligent count of the days, but by the sheer crushing wait of boredom, loneliness, and what felt like encroaching madness, it had to have been several months.

Althalos knew if he just made this point clear to Rowan, the old man would realize he had made a mistake, and the prince could get out of that miserable place once and for all, and away from the madman.

Since their last conversation, Althalos hadn’t said a word to his prison mate, nor he to Althalos. The little boy was sick of being frightened every time the madman erupted in a fit or made bizarre mumblings in his sleep. He wanted to go back to his bed in his room and wear his pajamas. He wanted to go back to the way things were before he’d ever made the mistake of trying to kill the king.

Finally, Rowan’s face emerged from the shadows, and Althalos rushed to press his face against the bars of his cell. “Hello, Rowan,” the little boy greeted him as pleasantly as if he had greeted Aestus himself.

“Good evening, little one.” Rowan grimaced with each step he took, his arthritic knees making each trip to the dungeon more difficult than the last.

“Is it evening?” Althalos rambled. “That’s good to know. Difficult to tell down here. Is the moon out tonight, Rowan?”

“A full one at that.” Rowan paused in front of Althalos, tray of food held ready in his hand. When he finally took in Altahlos’ beaming face, his brows drew together. “You all right, Your Highness?”

Althalos thought he might as well get right to it. “I think it is safe for you to release me now.”

Rowan’s shoulders lowered instantly.

But before he could object, Althalos hurried to say, “By now, I’m sure all has been forgotten—or at the very least forgiven. No one would be angry with me anyway, since I tried to stop the king. Anyone could see that. Certainly Aestus will, so there’s really no reason to keep me down here anymore.”

“You know that isn’t possible.”

The madman offered, “I told you…”

Althalos blinked hard to block out his voice and spoke desperately to Rowan. “It is possible, it is! Please, Rowan, just talk to a locksmith or whatever it is you have to do to get me out of here. We can’t truly know if I’m safe unless you let me out and we test—“

“And if you’re wrong?” Rowan didn’t sound angry or upset, just sad. Sympathy and pity shined in the old man’s perpetually watery eyes. “I’ll tell you. If you’re wrong, you’re dead. And I won’t allow that to happen.”

“Fine!” Althalos’ hands fisted around the freezing metal bars. He felt his heart rate speed up, and the control he had promised he would approach this conversation with entirely slipped. Panic and desperation built inside of him, and if he could, he would have reached through the bars and shaken Rowan. “I would rather die up there, than live decades down here. Please, Rowan. As your prince, I am begging—“

“As my prince,” Rowan interrupted gently, “I must keep you safe. Creasan just had a visit from ogres a handful of days ago.”

Althalos stared blankly. “Ogres?” he repeated in bewilderment.

“They were promising war, Your Highness, against anyone on the throne that is not Thea Wyvern.”

“Thea Wyvern?” The prince felt as if Rowan was speaking a foreign language. Why were they talking about ogres and strange names? They should be talking about Althalos’ freedom. “Okay, right, so then put this Thea Wyvern on the throne, but let me out.”

Rowan sighed tiredly and handed the sandwich on his tray through the bars to the little boy. “Managed to snag a bit more than usual. Made this myself.”

Althalos just stared, waiting for his answer. Sandwich be damned.

Rowan put the sandwich back on his tray before heading to the madman’s cell and handing him a different sandwich. The madman accepted it. “I tried to warn him from the start,” the man said. “He’s not getting out.”

“He will,” Rowan corrected. He approached Althalos again and tried to offer the sandwich once more.

But Althalos just continued to gaze at him through the tears that had gathered in his eyes.

Resigned, Rowan placed the sandwich back on the tray and bent to rest the tray on the floor beside the cell. Softly, as if that would lessen the weight of the blow, he added, “Just not yet, Your Highness.”

Then Rowan turned to leave.

“No, wait,” Althalos called after him. “Please, Rowan!”

But Rowan didn’t glance back even once. Just strode straight ahead.

“Rowan!” Althalos voice cracked with sobs as he called to the old man’s retreating back. “Rowan, wait!”

But then he heard the tell-tale sign of the dungeon door closing, and he knew it was over. Althalos had failed.

“The sooner you accept it, the easier it will be,” the madman called from his cell. “Eat the sandwich.”

But the little boy didn’t bother to respond. His hands fell from the cell bars and he dropped to the floor. The weight of his defeat was suffocating, crushing, as if an elephant had suddenly sat on his chest. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t speak as the totality of it settled on him. Wheezing and crying, Althalos pulled his knees to his chest and prayed he would actually stop breathing altogether.

Isolde stood in her assigned room while she waited for Thea and Fendrel to finish their meeting with the sultan. Her room was as massive as the rest of the citadel, with a domed ceiling that sported a similar design as the throne room. The large window and window seat were covered in a sheer white curtain, which Isolde pulled open to see an astounding view of Tamilem. Though she had been able to see the city lights from the ship before, it felt different to actually be among them. All she could think was, This is Sepi’s home.

“All right,” came Peronell’s voice, and Isolde turned to find him leading in Carac, Merek, and Brom, all of whom carried a variety of weapons. They threw them down on Isolde’s canopy bed—whose curtains matched the white of the window’s. “This is all we could find,” he said.

Isolde took an inventory. The blades they’d managed to find looked strange to her, bent in the middle, like they had taken a particularly harsh blow and been permanently damaged. Of course, there was a bow and arrows as well, a few small daggers, and a couple maces.

Isolde picked up the mace, feeling the heavy weight of it in her hand. It was certainly enough to crack a few skulls. “I want this one.”

Merek chuckled. “You think you can handle it.”

Isolde took a swing at him, and Merek dodged before it could make contact with his arm. He gave her an exasperated look which she matched with a smile. “Yeah, I think I got it.”

Brom said, “Sword for me, obviously.” He grabbed the bent sword and took a few practice jabs with it before nodding with satisfaction.

Carac grabbed the other mace, while Peronell took two swords. Carac asked, “So what’s the plan?”

“The sultan ordered Sepi to a cell,” Isolde answered. “I propose we look for stairs that lead down, and go from there.”

“Sounds as good a plan as any,” Merek agreed.

“We should move individually,” said Brom. “A whole group of us, armed and heading in the direction of the dungeon will draw attention.”

Peronell offered, “I’ll stay near Carac to make sure he can find his way—“

“I’ll be fine, Perry.”

“Just in case.”

“I’ll follow you, all right? Your footsteps. Is that good enough?”

Clearly, Isolde could see that it wasn’t, but Peronell nodded his acquiescence all the same.

“Okay.” Isolde drew a deep breath and gave each of her friends an encouraging smile. “Let’s find him before—“

“What do you think you’re doing?”

They all whirled to find Anai standing in the doorway.

Peronell and Brom hurried to try and hide their stash of weapons, but the way Anai’s eyes drilled into them made it clear she had already seen.

Isolde kept her head high as she answered, “We are going to rescue our friend.”

“No, you will not.”

“I understand he broke the law,” Isolde responded diplomatically, “but if you want our help, then you’re going to have to release him. We’re not doing anything without him.”

“Out of the question. Return those weapons to where you found them, and I’ll say nothing to the sultan.” With that, Anai turned to leave.

But Isolde was quick to call after her, “He loved you.”

Anai stilled, her back to them.

Isolde licked her lips. “When I met Sepi, he wouldn’t tell me much about his life here. All I knew was that he had been exiled, that he missed his family, and that he loved you, Anai.” Isolde took a measured step forward. “You can’t just leave him in a cell, Anai. You can’t. Not after all that he’s survived and seen, not after what the sultan did to his mother.“

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Anai said darkly.

“I know what I saw. And what I saw—“

“What you saw,” Anai snapped, meeting Isolde’s eyes over her shoulder, “was the result of months of pleading with the sultan. What you saw was the only possible way of saving Sepi’s family from total isolation, humiliation, and destitution. You couldn’t possibly understand the things you are talking about, so spare me your judgment.” Anai faced forward again. “Sepi stays where he is. It is what he deserves.”

Carac mumbled under his breath, “She sounded pretty humiliated to me.”

Anai turned sharply to him. “What did you say?”

He didn’t repeat himself, but he shrugged unapologetically.

Anai looked at each of them in turn, taking in their resolute faces, their determination, and—in Isolde’s case—their begging. Anai shook her head. “I do not know what pretty tales Sepi has spent the last six years telling you, but they are lies and excuses. Put the weapons back.” Then she stormed out.

Isolde watched her go sadly, her heart breaking for her. Anai was right, Isolde had no idea what it had been like for everyone Sepi had left behind, but she also knew what he had done had been a desperate attempt at helping his starving family. Knowing that, Isolde could not simply let him sit in a cell.

Peronell asked, “Should we put these back?”

In answer, Isolde grabbed her mace and headed for the door.

Everyone exchanged glances behind her back, before Brom shrugged, grabbed a sword, and followed her. They each copied his movements, and the group of them headed into the hall.

“How do you suppose we go about this?” Fendrel asked Thea as they headed down the corridor in direction of the bedrooms, where Thea knew Anai had taken their friends.

Ana answered, “We always knew it was going to be a difficult battle, and we always knew we’d have to rely on ourselves. Nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed,” Fendrel argued. “And there is no we. You are going to stay here until we return.”

She huffed a laugh. “No, I’m not.”

Thea studied the queen with keen eyes. “Fighting Malum is daunting enough to a trained fighter. That sword you’ve been lugging around is little more than a prop for you, Your Majesty. You would—“

“This is not a debate,” Ana interrupted forcefully. “I am going. That is the end of it.”

“You will die, Ana,” Fendrel told her.

“So be it.” And she hiked her skirts and sped ahead of them.

“What? No, wait—“ Fendrel moved to go after her, but Thea grabbed his arm and held him back.

“She clearly doesn’t want to talk about it,” she said. “We’ll make sure she’s safe before it all starts.”

Fendrel sighed and continued to keep pace with Thea, watching Ana disappear down the large stone hall. “I should’ve known,” Fendrel said. “This was a suicide mission for her. The whole time, I was guiding her toward her death.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. I was so wrapped up in making sure I was king, that I didn’t pause for even a second to wonder why my sister-in-law—my only surviving family—would want to go with us.” He hung his head and blew out a breath.

Thea grabbed his arm again, this time bringing him to a full stop so he would look at her. She vowed, “Nothing will happen to her, Fendrel. We won’t let it.”

Fendrel looked deeply into her eyes, seeing her resolve there, and nodded. Some of the tension went out of him, and it made the inside of Thea’s stomach twitch slightly to know her words meant so much to him.

She cleared her throat and dropped her hand from his arm before she could think too much about the fact that she had been resting her palm on his warm bare skin, thanks to the sleeveless shirt Anai had given him. “Now, we really ought to focus on strategy.” Thea started walking again, and Fendrel followed. “We know he’ll be huge, and we know his skin is nearly impenetrable, which leaves only two places of vulnerability—inside his mouth and his eyes. You’ll have to aim there when you deal the death blow. The others and I will do our best to distract—“

“You’re really going to do this.”

Thea’s feet slowed yet again at the clear astonishment in Fendrel’s voice. She frowned. “Do what?”

“Help me become king.” He searched her face, as if looking for a sign of deception.

“I told you I would.”

“Right, but you’ve also told me you hate me on multiple occasions.”

“Highness, honestly, haven’t we been through this enough times?” Though Thea put on an air of annoyance and exasperation, she did her best to avoid his gaze. She wasn’t sure why, but for some reason this turn in conversation had made her suddenly very fidgety and uncomfortable. “I don’t hate you. I didn’t hate you when we started the mission, I didn’t hate you when I saved your life, and I don’t hate you now. All right? Good? Can we please get back to strategizing?“ Thea continued walking. “I’m sure Merek will have some great ideas for…” She trailed off when she glanced back to see Fendrel hadn’t moved.

He stood in the middle of the hallway, alone, his hands clenching and unclenching restlessly at his sides. “How can you be sure?” he asked, his voice remarkably quiet.

Thea blinked and dumbly answered, “Because it’s what you want.”

“Yes, but—You’re willing to sacrifice…to risk your very life so that I can be the one to kill him. How can you be so sure you should?”

“For the record, Highness, we’re all risking our lives. You included. It’s very possible that no one kills Malum, and we all die.”

Fendrel rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation, Thea.”

“Was I laughing?”

He clicked his tongue in frustration. “Aestus, just bloody answer my ques—“

“Because you listened.” Though saying those words out loud made Thea’s heart beat a little faster, she threw them out there quickly. They didn’t have time for the prince’s doubts. They should’ve been on the road by now.

But Fendrel just gazed back at Thea uncomprehendingly. Face open and honest but completely befuddled.

Thea internally sighed and walked back toward him. “That day at the palace, the fight to the death. I asked you to go see your people in Vuterra so you would understand The Source, understand me. And you did.” Thea stopped in front of Fendrel. She gave a shrug like what she had said was meaningless rather than the single biggest diversion from her beliefs about the royal family that she’d ever witnessed. “You went into Vuterra, you saw what was happening, and you took it upon yourself to change it, even though it came at the cost of your brother. I don’t think I could have done that. But you did.” She gave him a small smile. “That’s why it has to be you.”

Thea wasn’t sure when it had happened, but when she looked at Fendrel, there was an intensity in his gaze, like his eyes were searing into her. Like he was drowning and her words were his oxygen. “You would have done it,” he stated.

“No—“

“I know you would—“

“It doesn’t matter,” she cut him off. “Because you did. And you actually want to be king. Right?”

“Of course.”

“Then that settles it. It’s you.” But Fendrel still looked slightly unconvinced, so Thea added, “For what it’s worth, I would be glad to call you King of Creasan.”

The prince looked as shocked as if she’d slapped him. His eyes widened and his lips parted.

Again, the weight he gave her words caused Thea’s heart to skip. Even though they were several inches apart, she worried that he’d be able to hear the sudden raised volume in her chest. Just like that night in the Captain’s Quarters, Thea felt her face heat up, and she knew it wasn’t from the humid Qamisian air.

Thea coughed into the suddenly tense silence and started walking again, this time refusing to stop, even if Fendrel didn’t follow. Luckily, he did, but they walked on with the feeling of something strange hanging between them. They didn’t speak, but that by itself wasn’t what made Thea hyperaware of how close Fendrel was walking beside her in the incredibly wide corridor. She could nearly feel his shoulder brush hers. Not quite, but nearly, and the fact that she’d noticed such a thing made her cheeks burn hotter.

They reached the first bedroom, but when they looked in, there was no one there. Thea frowned. “Izzy? Carac?”

Fendrel crossed the hall and poked his head in that room. When he reemerged, he shook his head. “No one in here either.”

They made quick work of looking into each room, but they were all empty. Thea gazed in bewilderment at Fendrel. “Where are they?”

Anai drew a long, deep breath before she entered the dungeon. This was her first time venturing below the citadel’s kitchen, and it was eerie how empty it was. Everywhere else, there seemed to be some sort of hurried business taking place, but this far down, it felt like a forgotten tomb. The orange colored stones that made up the walls and floor of the dungeon were a much happier tone than the scene demanded, and it took all of Anai’s courage to peek around the column she hid behind.

She was mildly pleased to find only one wall of the dungeon to be lined with cells while the other side boasted windows, all blocked with thick bars to discourage anyone who might even dream of escape. The windows offered a clear view of the city and the water beyond, which sparkled under the moonlight.

Anai wasn’t entirely certain what had drawn her down there, whether it was simply the shock of seeing Sepi or if it was the words of the newcomers, but she found herself eyeing Sepi’s cage all the same.

There were couple other prisoners in the dungeon, held for debts unpaid, no doubt. There was relatively little crime in Qamizeh, even less under the fear of the dragon. Which is what had made Sepi’s actions so memorable and so stunning, and which is why Anai’s first thoughts hadn’t been joy at seeing him again but rather ones of betrayal and recompense.

But now? Now that she was a mere few feet away from Sepi Fassan, whom she thought she would never see again as long as she lived, Anai’s chest felt tight and her palms clammy. With another breath, Anai stepped out of hiding and approached Sepi.

He was leaning his back against the wall, arms crossed and face pensive. Anai examined the way his thick brown eyebrows pulled together, an expression she’d seen many times when he was figuring out how to fix a broken wheel on her wagon or heaving a jug of water back to his house. Though his skin was paler, just the few hours back under the Qamisian sun had started to bolden his naturally tanned face. His beard was shorter than Anai would have imagined of a man his age, but it was as thickly black as his hair and eyebrows. Despite any differences, Anai couldn’t help marveling at the fact that Sepi was standing in front of her.

And when she came to a stop in front of his cell and he glanced up at her with his familiar brown eyes, any discrepancies in his appearance she had noticed flew right out of her head. Those were Sepi’s eyes. Anai would know them anywhere.

He asked in their native Qamisian, “What are you doing down here?”

Anai didn’t know what to say for a moment. There were so many words fighting their way onto her tongue, she felt like whatever she could say in that moment wouldn’t make a lick of sense.

But instead of helping Anai by offering another subject, or by exploding on her in anger for his current situation, Sepi waited. She recognized this as something else that was distinctly him—the amount of patience he possessed could nearly rival her stubbornness.

“I did my best,” she blurted out, blinking at herself in surprise. Of all the words waging war inside of her, she did not expect those to be the first ones out.

Sepi just stared.

Anai huffed and clarified, “Your family. I did what I could.”

“Your best was making my mother a slave and a concubine?”

Despite her best efforts, Anai felt her haunches rise at his accusatory tone. “She was going to be executed, Sepi. Sultan Zaid thought your whole family were your accomplices.”

Sepi’s arms dropped from his chest to hang absently at his sides. Then, as if he were putting the pieces together in front of her, he asked, “Where’s Baba? And my sisters?”

“They’re all here,” Anai answered. “Your father works in the kitchen. Your sisters…work with your mother.”

Sepi’s eyebrows twitched at that and the air rushed out of him as if she’d socked him in the stomach.

Anai watched as that reality nestled itself on his shoulders. Though she certainly harbored resentment toward Sepi for his actions, she couldn’t help the annoying bit of remorse that wormed its way into her heart. “I stayed with your mom and sisters,” she assured him. “I worked with them. I kept them safe. Like I promised.”

“You worked with them? As…” a concubine? Though he didn’t say the words, Anai heard them hanging in the air all the same. He stared hard at her like he was hoping she’d say it for him.

But she simply confirmed, “Yes.”

Sepi’s eyes squeezed tightly shut, in pain. His next words came out in a whisper. “I never meant any of this to happen. I was just trying to—“

“Help,” she finished for him, and he looked up at her. “I know.”

Sepi gazed at her sadly. “No wonder you hate me. You all must.”

Anai didn’t answer him right away. The truth was, for the last six years, she had hated him. Despised him. Every day for the last six years, while she’d watched the damage he had inflicted on his parents and sisters, while she’d endured the damage herself, she had thanked everything that is holy that he was dead. In those six years, she hadn’t cried for him, hadn’t mourned with his family. She was too busy cursing him.

But now? Now that he was standing in front of her?

Anai held her hand through the bars of his cell. “Come here,” she ordered softly.

He didn’t move right away, eyeing her questioningly, but then he took hesitant steps toward her. When he was close enough for Anai to reach, she slapped him across the face.

Sepi’s head whipped to the side. Anai’s hand stung with the impact and her breathing came quickly as she stared at him. Sepi didn’t bring his face back to her for a moment, the muscle in his jaw working.

Tears sprung to Anai’s eyes. “You ruined my life.”

Very slowly, Sepi faced Anai. “I’m—“

She smacked him again. A strange feeling built up in her chest, making her feel like it would burst at any moment. It was an overwhelming feeling, that choked her and made her words thick. “You ruined all of our lives.”

Sepi turned back to her quickly this time and took a surprising step toward Anai, eyes sad but understanding. “I know.”

Anai fisted her fingers in his shirt and shook him hard. “I told you not to do it. I told you!”

“I know.”

Anai was suddenly able to identify that feeling building inside of her; she’d gone six years without mourning Sepi—six years during which she hadn’t mourned her own loss either. The loss of her childhood, the loss of her freedom, the loss of her family and friends. Her best friend, Sepi. All of that came rushing out of her then, bubbling quickly to the surface, like a volcano about to decimate an entire town. “All these years—“

“Anai.” Sepi reached through the bars this time and cupped her face, looking her deep in the eyes. He spoke earnestly. “I know.” A tear fell down his cheek.

Her fingers were still fisted in his shirt and she banged on his chest one more time. “I hate you,” she murmured.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in response, resting his forehead against hers.

She moved her hand from his chest to clutch his hair. “I do, I hate you.”

“I’m so sorry, Anai. So, so sorry.”

She wasn’t sure if it was his tears or his words that made the dam crack and break inside of her, but somehow a heavy sob broke out of her and she crashed her lips to Sepi’s.

She couldn’t explain any of it at that moment. Her thoughts stopped, her breathing hitched, and her cheeks became slick with a mixture of their tears. Though the bars dug into either side of her face, she couldn’t help but press herself as tightly as she could to Sepi on the other side.

She felt the way his fingers shook against her face, could feel the quivering of his lips against hers as he kissed her harder, and she knew that shakiness was mirrored in herself. In that moment, despite her words and despite the fissure that remained in her heart, she would have climbed into that cell right alongside Sepi.

In between kisses, he murmured, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Over and over he said those words, and Anai did her best to ignore them. Because if she thought about them, about what they meant, if she thought for one second about any of it, she’d leap away from him. And she didn’t want to do that. Not yet.

She wanted to feel the scratch of his beard against her face, the roughness of his familiarly calloused hands against her skin as he trailed his hands from her cheeks, down her neck, and into her hair. She wanted to bask in his familiar warmth that emanated even through the bars that separated them. Though they’d been much younger when she’d last seen him, that taut strength still coiled within him, and she wanted to simply enjoy relearning the curves of his body.

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps and the hissed whisper of, “Wait!” broke through the fog she’d intentionally gathered around herself, and she jerked away a split second after Brom lurched into the room, followed by the other Source members.

Anai angled her body away from the group, mortification and shame making her cheeks burn, and she wiped her tears away quickly.

Carac skidded into the room after Brom, a cringe on his face. His words came out in a rush. “Sorry! I tried to tell them to wait.“

“Shit, mate,” Merek said. “We didn’t mean to interrupt…”

Sepi didn’t answer them, and Anai knew he was watching her, waiting to follow her lead. After an awkward beat, during which Anai waited for the burning sensation of tears to leave her eyes and nose, she faced the group. “I warned you all to—“

Isolde interrupted, “You have to let him go. You clearly don’t want him in there anyway.”

“What Izzy means,” Peronell said kindly, “is since you’ve forgiven him, perhaps you could talk to the sultan.”

Sepi surprised them all by saying, “No.”

“No?” Isolde repeated, dumbfounded. “What do you mean no?”

“I have to answer for my crimes, Isolde.” Sepi glanced at Anai, who couldn’t meet his gaze anymore. Her lips still pulsed and tingled from their kiss, and she knew that she would only make matters worse if she tried to address him in that moment. “I will stay here.”

“Mate,” Merek said with a shake of his head, “that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever—“

Brom held up his hand and stepped forward, speaking directly to Anai. “If it is punishment you are after,” he proposed, “then all the more reason to send Jan—I mean, Sepi—with us.”

Anai frowned and jutted her chin in the air. She wouldn’t let the fact these people had seen her at her most vulnerable allow them to think they could issue her orders. “As I told you before, Sepi must—“

“You exiled him to the sea with the expectation he would die, yes?” Brom questioned. He didn’t wait for her response before he continued, “If his punishment was death, then allowing him to go up against a dragon would be the surest way to guarantee that sentence is carried out.”

Anai paused and processed that.

Sepi told his friends, “Please. I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but this is—“

“Death by dragon,” Anai murmured, and Sepi’s eyes swung to her. She thought it over. There was no way she could convince the sultan to free Sepi Fassan, but if it was with the purpose of exacting the punishment he was initially given… “I think I can convince the sultan of that.”

Isolde gasped. “Really?”

“I will try.”

Isolde’s shoulders relaxed, and Carac broke into a big smile. Brom bowed his head. “Thank you.”

Anai returned his bow. With great effort, Anai chanced a look at Sepi. He simply stared back at her with an expression Anai couldn’t distinctly make out. It could as easily have been curiosity as despair. So she faced forward again and walked with measured, confident steps out of the dungeon.

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