“Lukasz,” she stammered. “Your brothers—this is your Dragon. You need to come with me. You were born to do this.”
Beside him, Franciszek drew his sword. The Dragon was a hundred feet away and coming for them. But Lukasz wasn’t afraid. He had survived mavka and he had lost eight brothers, and he had found one. He was the best dragon slayer in a thousand years.
But this was her Dragon.
“No.” He took her by both arms. “You were.”
Golden wings brought it ever closer. The blank black eyes stared down at them. And still, Ren wouldn’t leave. She opened her mouth, ready to argue, and Lukasz cut her off.
“Ren,” he said. “I love you, but I’m sorry.”
Her face changed, from determination to bewilderment.
“Why—?”
And Lukasz shoved her backward toward the boat. He meant for her to fall into the boat, but he’d shoved her too hard. Ren hit the water with a splash, overturning the boat in the confusion. The clear water churned.
Lukasz winced and turned away. At least she could swim.
He weighed his sword in his right hand, tested his dexterity. It would have to do. Ren was splashing and shouting behind him.
The Golden Dragon hurtled down toward them.
He caught his brother’s eye. He expected Franciszek to make a comment about him fighting right-handed, but instead, Franciszek asked, “You love this girl, right?”
Lukasz switched the sword back to his left hand. No. It would have to be his right.
“Yeah,” he said, distracted.
“Word of advice,” said Franciszek. “Most girls don’t enjoy being pushed into moats.”
Lukasz grinned at his brother.
“She’s not a girl, Fraszko,” he said. “She’s a queen.”
And the Dragon attacked.
51
REN HAULED HERSELF OUT OF the water, fuming. She had half a mind to turn right back into a lynx, swim across the moat, and kill Lukasz herself.
The Dragon was bellowing behind her, and the brothers were shouting. But the bank was obscured by black smoke, thick enough that her eyes watered. There was a sudden screech, and an enormous golden tail lashed out of the black and slapped the moat.
Water drenched her, and she nearly slipped on the slick glass. She flung out a hand, catching herself on the smooth side of the Mountain. The tail twitched once in the water, then flicked angrily and disappeared back into the smoke.
Ren held her breath. She couldn’t stay. She had to move.
This wasn’t that day in the river. It wasn’t that day with the strzygi. It wasn’t even that first day, when the Dragon had killed her mother and, perhaps without realizing what kind of enemy it was creating, had abandoned her to the care of the forest. Ren drew her sword.
She was going to kill that Dragon.
Ren turned back to the Mountain. Too smooth to climb, the Leszy had said. She didn’t have much time. Five scratches scored the surface. Ren’s heart soared. She put a hand flat on the glass.
Of course . . .
When she’d fallen back and caught herself, her hand had transformed.
Ren’s fingers shortened and her palm widened. Five claws burst from lynx paws, each the length of a knife. They sank into the mountainside. Ren flexed them, and with a horrible screeching sound, they tore through the glass.
“Thank you,” she whispered, to whoever had decided she would be this way. “Thank you.”
She shoved the glass sword back into its sheath and stripped down to her bare skin. Then she rebuckled the belt around her chest, loosely enough that it would still fit when she transformed. Ren looked at her hands, felt the strength well up in her heart and spill into her limbs. The world slipped into focus.
She was a lynx.
And she climbed.
Ren climbed as she had never climbed before. She climbed until the sounds of the Dragon and the brothers faded below her. She climbed until black smoke turned to soft mist. She climbed until every bone ached, until the sword seemed to drag her down. She climbed for the dead king and queen. She climbed for the village. She climbed for her brother.
And she climbed because she had not been born a lynx, and because she would certainly not die as one, not here.
The Mountain leveled off sooner than she had expected, and she wondered if it was because she was climbing so fast. She was too exhausted to question it. She dragged herself over the edge, gasping, claws tearing through the glass.
She lay flat for a few moments, catching her breath. Then she got to her feet, muscles