black eyes, and she could feel the pump of her blood, feel magic rushing to her fingertips.
“Go,” she said to the dragon. “Go.”
It tilted its head, considering her for a long moment. Then it beat its wings and launched itself into the air and away, sending a streak of flame across the sky.
THIRTEEN
SHE HAD BEEN RIGHT. THE DRAGON HAD OBEYED HER. They were meant to be hers.
The magic came easily that night, flames whirling around the practice room and then vanishing as quickly as they had come. She thought of the dragon, of the gleam of its scales, and the fire summoned itself, as natural as breathing. And she thought she could feel the dragons, too, feel the pound of their blood and the tremor of their hearts.
This was the answer she had been looking for, the key to stopping the king.
But the magic was almost too strong. She paused to regain her breath, and the world seemed to sway around her.
This magic had been designed by Celestine. It was meant for destruction. And as helpful as it might be, as powerful as it might seem, it intoxicated her. If she mastered her magic, would she really control it? Or would it control her?
She sank onto the practice room floor. Scorch marks surrounded her.
“Aurora?” Finnegan said. He stepped closer, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“I just . . . I need to rest. I need to think.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “Want me to go?”
“No,” she said, and she was surprised to realize she meant it. “No, don’t go.” She traced the black mark on the floor.
“I controlled a dragon today,” she said. “A dragon.” A creature that should not even exist, and she had controlled it. She had told it to leave, and it had flown away. She twisted the pendant between her fingers. “The research, my magic . . . it’s working.”
“Is that bad?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t know. If Celestine woke them using my blood, my magic, that must mean I can make them sleep again. I can stop them from hurting anyone again. That’s good.”
“But you’re not happy.”
“I’m worried,” she said. “I’m worried that I’m right, that this is all part of some plan of Celestine’s. If I learn how to control my magic, I could end up making things worse.”
“We don’t have any proof that Celestine meant any of this,” Finnegan said. “And even if you are right . . . you’re still you. The magic isn’t bad, just because Celestine decided it would be. It depends on how you use it.”
“I almost burned down a village,” she said. “All by myself. And King John is telling people I burned more. If I use my magic to fight him . . . I’m going to hurt so many more people.”
“You might,” Finnegan said. He sat beside her, scattering soot across the ground.
“Then how can I do it?”
“By knowing that more people will be hurt if you don’t. By trusting yourself.”
But if she did nothing, they wouldn’t be hurt by her. Not directly. She would not have spilled their blood.
“After I saw the dragon . . .” she said, “after it saw me . . . I didn’t feel entirely like myself.”
“Then how did you feel?”
It felt wicked to even whisper it. “Powerful,” she said. “Like I could do anything. Like I didn’t have a fear in the world.”
Finnegan shifted closer. “How is that a bad thing?”
“It made me reckless, too.”
“Sometimes,” Finnegan said, “I think reckless people are the only ones who get anything done. All the safe and sane ones are too busy thinking through every possible outcome to even start making a difference.”
She made a vague noise of agreement. This had to be a good thing. Real power of her own. Perhaps that intoxication was only the first step. But something about it itched under her skin. She did not want this magic if it meant burning, too.
She looked at Finnegan through trailing strands of hair. “Nettle said that you were worried you wouldn’t get your throne,” she said. “Because you were too reckless. Do you really think your sister will become queen?”
Aurora did not expect he would let her get away with changing the subject, but then he shrugged. “It’s possible.”
“Does that upset you?”
He looked back at her, one eyebrow raised. “That I could lose my inheritance because my sister is more likable than I am?”
“I mean . . .” She tucked her feet underneath herself. “If you had the choice, would you