looked at Aurora for a long moment, seemingly genuinely lost for words. “You won’t? You would save countless lives.”
“Or destroy them. We can’t predict what would happen if I took more hearts. It could increase Celestine’s power.”
“That witch has already half destroyed my city. What does it matter if she gains more power, if she already has far more than we do, and this could give us the chance to fight her?”
“If you took the hearts of all the dragons,” Erin said slowly, “the witch wouldn’t have anything to control.”
“You want me to wipe them out?”
“No,” Orla said firmly. “But with a heart or five, with you here, we could have them under control. They could be an asset.”
“And you want me to give that power to you?”
She certainly owed it to them. She had been the one to let the dragons across the water, the one who inspired a direct attack on the city. Orla had helped Aurora, protected her, and this destruction was her reward.
But dragons were not a defensive force. What would Orla do, with all this fire at her command? Every other kingdom would be terrified of her. They would bow to any of her demands. And although Orla seemed fair and just, the needs of her kingdom would come before anything else. They would certainly come before the needs of Alyssinia.
And Aurora remembered their conversation, when Orla had spoken of Vanhelm’s right to Alyssinia. She did not want revenge, she had said. But she said had nothing about her plans for the throne.
Aurora wanted to help her. Wanted to trust her. But as a princess, as a witch, as someone with responsibilities that she had avoided for too long . . . no. She could not take that risk.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t.”
“You can’t?” Orla stared at her in disbelief. “You can’t stop more dragons attacking my city? They’re gone for now, but they will come back. We need to be ready for them.”
“You will be,” Aurora said. “I’ll help you. But I can’t give you the dragons.”
Orla’s lips were pressed into a thin line. “You and Finnegan created this mess,” she said. “You acted like fools, both of you. It’s your responsibility to fix it.”
“And it’s my responsibility to Alyssinia to protect them.”
Finnegan stepped forward. “She did the best she could, mother,” he said.
“Do not speak back to me,” Orla snapped. “You’d better hope that she agrees to this. If you were true king material, you would not have created this mess. Vanhelm cannot have a prince who endangers the city for his own ridiculous whims.”
“I was working to protect the city,” Finnegan said. “The dragons have been coming closer for years. We needed to find a way to defend ourselves from them.”
“And instead, we got attacked.”
“And we fought them off.”
“That is not good enough,” Orla said. “And if you do not fix this, I don’t see how I could allow you to be king.”
“Are you threatening to disinherit me?”
“I am saying that you had better do what is right,” Orla said. “As your sister would do.”
“That’s unfair,” Erin said. Her voice was soft and clear. “I don’t know what I would do.”
“You would not have created this mess in the first place.”
Aurora had heard enough. “I will not do it,” she said. “And it has nothing to do with Finnegan, and it has nothing to do with Erin. It’s just me. And you will not convince me to change my mind.”
Orla stared at her, disgust all over her face. “Then go.”
Aurora nodded, conceding to Orla’s anger, and walked out of her room.
She had remained in Vanhelm too long. She had as strong a control over her magic as she ever would, had learned as much as she could from this kingdom. And she had definitely outstayed her welcome.
If she left, Celestine would surely follow her, as she had followed her here. It would be safest for everyone if she left.
Aurora hurried to her rooms. Her hair smelled of smoke, her feet throbbed, and the world had become hazy after days without enough sleep, but she pulled her bag toward her and started piling her possessions into it.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. She did not need to look to know it was Finnegan.
“Have you come here to convince me to change my mind?”
The footsteps paused.
“No,” Finnegan said. “I know you won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“You’re a terrible liar, remember? I can read your face like a book.” Silence. Then: “I have news.” His