liar?”
“Still you, Aurora. That’s still you.” Finnegan wrenched himself to his feet, wincing in pain. “Better get going,” he said. “Don’t want to miss lunch when we arrive.”
The sky was vast and dark, lit by a few stars and the slightest sliver of the moon, but Aurora could see the outline of Vanhelm, growing with every step as they approached.
She did not dare create a light.
“If only you had water magic,” Finnegan said. “Might help around now.”
She forced herself to smile. “I could have put out that dragon,” she said. But his words lingered, and she tried to imagine what water magic would involve. Calmness, tranquility, a sense of utter control. Everything she was supposed to be.
They reached Oldtown a few hours before noon. Aurora’s feet shook underneath her as they picked their way through the rubble. The boat was still tucked safely away, and Aurora and Lucas carried it to the river together. Aurora was certain that her strength would fail at any moment, that she would crash to her knees and never move again, but her resolve held. They placed Finnegan in the boat and began to sail to the city.
She tried not to look at his wounds, tried not to think about how long it had been since he received them, how even his attempts to laugh and joke had worn away now. She stared at the city instead, at the skyline that had stolen her breath the first time she saw it.
The boat crashed against the dock, and Aurora sprang out, already shouting, waving her arms with the last energy she had. “The prince,” she said. “The prince has been burned. You have to help him!” People appeared from everywhere after that, as though they had been waiting for her cry. They took up the yell as well, until royal guards came running.
They hurried him away, and she was left standing on the pavement, dusty and exhausted, staring at the space where he had been.
A crowd pressed around the palace.
Yes, the prince. I heard he’s injured. I heard he’s dead. I heard it was dragons.
Aurora pushed through and limped up the steps. The guard on the left opened the door without a word to her.
“Finnegan,” she said, her throat burning. “Is he—”
“He is inside,” the guard said. He did not elaborate. He did not even look at her.
She stumbled through the door. Maids and guards were running through the entrance hall, shouts echoing from the maze of rooms to her left.
She grabbed a maid by the arm, a little more forcefully than she meant to, swaying on her feet. “Where’s Finnegan?” she said. “You have to take me to him.”
“He’s in his rooms,” the maid said. “This way, my lady.” She led her up the stairs and along the upper corridor. Aurora’s feet had moved past pain and into numbness. She felt like she was floating above the ground.
Two guards stood outside Finnegan’s door.
“No one can enter without the queen’s permission,” one said.
Aurora would not be stopped by guards now. “I have to see Finnegan,” she said. “I have to see if he’s all right.”
“Not without the queen’s permission.”
“Then where’s the queen?” she said. “Take me to her. I have to see him. I have to—”
“I’m here.” Orla walked out of Finnegan’s rooms. Her face was white, her hair half-tumbled around her face, her lips worried red.
Aurora wanted to move closer to her, to push through the door, but her feet would no longer cooperate. “Finnegan,” she said again. “Will he be okay? Will he—”
“I don’t know. It is unlikely.”
Aurora swayed. She put a hand against the wall to steady herself. “What do you mean?” she said. “Is he going to die?”
“He was burned by a dragon, Aurora. Do you think he is going to be fine? No one who is burned by a dragon fully recovers.”
“But—”
“But what? You thought you were both immortal? You thought that running off into the waste would be safe?”
Not exactly. She had known it was risky, but Finnegan had always seemed so confident, so present, that the idea of him being in true danger seemed impossible. It could only be a romantic kind of danger, the sort that sent her heart racing, that gave them thrilling stories but ultimately left them unscathed.
“I cannot believe the foolishness of you both. How could you have been so senseless?”
“I’m sorry,” Aurora said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—” She could not get the words out. She did not know what she could say.
“Sorry