face, and she kissed him. Again.
Then they were both laughing. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe she was relieved. Maybe she was just rattled. Maybe she was brave. She pushed herself up on her hands, still half supported by Lukasz. The queen leaned over and, unexpectedly, hugged her.
Mixed with blood, torrents of water washed over the ground, carrying golden branches, golden apples, and broken glass. A dozen feet away, the water parted around the Dragon’s huge gleaming claws. Black smoke poured from its nostrils, down its body, caught in Ren’s heart. She realized, with a start, that the rain was thinning.
The Dragon had saved them, she realized. So many times. It had saved them. It had escaped from an underworld of monsters and spent seventeen years at war. For her kingdom.
Gold scraped on glass, and the Dragon advanced.
The big equine head wove down from its great height. Ren got to her feet. She closed the distance between her and the Dragon until they were so close that she could smell the smoke on its breath.
When it looked at her, Ren recognized its expression. Its eyes were dull black, reflecting absolutely no light at all. They looked cautious. A little afraid. Curious. Hopeful.
She’d seen that look before, in a hundred other animals.
She reached out, and her hand met gold.
“Hello,” she whispered.
It wasn’t cold, like she had expected. Or slimy, or hard, or like the ice-cold armor of a stone-cold killer. It was warm, soft. Almost like fur. The Dragon closed its eyes. Then it purred. The whole Glass Mountain vibrated.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I misjudged you.”
The Dragon purred louder. Then, to Ren’s surprise, it spoke. Inside her head.
You have done well, my queen.
A rumble shook the mountaintop. The ground lurched beneath her, and Lukasz’s hand closed protectively over her shoulder.
The Mountain trembled. The last of the golden trees toppled, crashing into the glass. Golden leaves exploded, and apples rolled across the ground. Behind them, the castle was shaking, and blocks of glass were crumbling from the edges and tumbling down into oblivion. Ren turned to the Dragon.
“What’s going on?”
The Dragon spoke again. It is time for us to return.
The Golden Dragon knelt down on its front knees. It took Ren a moment to realize what it wanted, and as soon as she did, Lukasz shot her a disbelieving look.
“Oh, no—” he started.
“Trust me,” said Ren over the crashing of glass. “It’ll be all right.”
Looking very pale, Lukasz helped Queen Dagmara onto the golden scales before swinging up behind her. Ren came last.
As the dragon pushed off, the glass mountainside crumbled beneath its talons. They soared down to earth, weaving between hurtling chunks of glass. Cracks shuddered down the smooth sides and splintered up from its base. Ren resisted the urge to cover her ears, while the Mountain crumbled.
A gale surrounded them, strong enough to lift whole tons of glass as if they weighed no more than dead leaves. Like a spinning, twisting hurricane, the glass spiraled around the crumbling Mountain.
They landed in the field of armor, sliding off the Dragon’s back. Ren stumbled on a fallen shield. She had almost forgotten about those poor knights.
“You said they weren’t dead,” she said, turning to Queen Dagmara. “Can you bring them back?”
“Wait.” Behind them, Lukasz slipped off the Dragon’s back. “They’re not—?”
They have been sleeping, said the Dragon. I will wake them.
Ren watched in wonder as another gale lifted the armor. As if borne up by ghosts, the armor and swords and uniforms rose into the air. Shoals of shattered glass blasted through the valley, like torrents of rain. They shot through the floating armor, pinging off helmets and blades.
The gale rose to a roar, and Ren was suddenly aware of shapes forming within the armor. No, not shapes. People, formed of glass. Then the glass gathered color, and substance, and all of a sudden—
Everywhere, knights pushed back their visors and examined newly re-formed hands. Long-dead horses unfolded cautious legs. In the moat, a hand broke the water’s surface. More knights surfaced, brandishing swords and pennants, and dragged themselves onto dry land.
Ren could hardly believe it. They’d brought back the queen. They’d raised an army—an army big enough to take back her forest. They’d resurrected the Wolf-Lords, brought them back from extinction. Raised enough of the dead to fill the empty streets and warm halls of the great lodge.
And there, a few feet away, at the water’s edge—
“Oh my God,” breathed Lukasz.
Before Ren could stop him, Lukasz had dashed away. She followed. He