what if he comes to fight us here?”
“Neither will be a problem. The king wants a spectacle as much as you do. The imposter princess, tearing through the kingdom, coming to save his traitor son. He will want everyone to see you fail.”
“He’d abandon strategy for that?”
“That is his strategy. He’s a showman, Aurora. You know this. He cares about getting the message right. He wants people to see your defeat. And he is arrogant enough not to doubt that it will be a defeat.”
“And what about the people?” Aurora said. “Will they support me, do you think?”
“There has been unrest since Rodric’s condemnation, but everyone is afraid to speak, and the rebels are mostly gone. But you should be able to rally some support. And I have seen Tristan in the city. He will help you all he can.”
“Tristan?” Tristan could not help her. “He’s in Vanhelm. I saw him.”
“He decided to return. It seems he thinks there is hope after all.”
She was glad to hear it. She had not always approved of his methods, but Tristan had not seemed like Tristan without that fierce belief inside him. “But why would he help me?” she said.
“You both want to be rid of the king, Princess. And since you have an army and a dragon, you may stand a better chance than he does.”
The firelight danced across the side of Nettle’s face, elongating her features. Aurora shivered. Had she finally become brutal enough for Tristan to approve of her? Or were they simply both desperate for any kind of plan now?
Nettle stood. “I should return to Petrichor,” she said. “I’ll watch things until you arrive tomorrow.”
Aurora nodded and bid her good night, but although she settled under her blankets, she could not sleep. Anticipation buzzed through her, visions of tomorrow crowding her thoughts. She saw Rodric’s death, Finnegan cut through with a sword, the city burning.
The dragon soaring behind her, their magic as one.
She would not fail now. Tomorrow, she would show them. They would see everything that she could be.
THIRTY
NETTLE WAS WAITING FOR THEM ON THE ROAD TO Petrichor as the sun set the next day.
“The king has moved the trial,” she said, in lieu of a greeting. “To tonight. His guards were rounding up the people of the city when I slipped away.”
So this was it. She would fight the king, and things would fall as they would. “How much time do we have?” she asked.
“I am not sure,” Nettle said. “An hour or two at most. The king may choose to delay until you arrive at the gates. Or he may speed up to spite you, once he sees you approach. He is difficult to predict.”
“Then let’s hurry,” Aurora said. “Before he gets the chance.”
Trees stretched above their heads, and the air was heavy. They walked in silence, surrounded by Finnegan’s men.
The walls of the city emerged gradually ahead of them. The road was completely straight, cutting through the forest with brutal precision, so they could see the entrance to the city for almost a mile before they reached it. Every few steps brought more into focus. The metal portcullis blocking the way. Soldiers lining the wall. Crossbows aimed at the road.
When they were within shouting distance, a guard raised an arm. “Halt!” he said.
Aurora stopped. She stared at the soldiers. “Let us pass,” she shouted. “We are here to stop the king. We have no quarrel with you.”
Her dragon screamed in accord. It circled above her, snapping its jaws in the direction of the men on the wall. It took all of Aurora’s willpower to keep it under control, to cool the fire in its throat and keep it close. “Surrender,” one of the guards shouted. He had a crossbow aimed directly at her heart.
“Let us pass,” she said again, “or I’ll be forced to attack.”
An arrow shot through the air. Aurora engulfed it in flames. She looked at the soldier who had attacked her, taking in the details of his face.
She could not make threats she did not intend to keep.
“Burn the way through,” she whispered. It was enough. With a screech, the dragon dove and let out a jet of flame. The gate caught fire. The metal melted almost instantly, and even the stone warped under the heat. The guards scrambled aside, and Aurora focused her magic on their weapons, turning them to flames in their hands.
The guards screamed, throwing their crossbows away. And Aurora felt a rush of triumph. The fire was hers