and several more still swept through the sky, their wings blocking out the stars.
“Aurora,” Rodric said. “What do we do?”
She didn’t know. She stared as another dragon dove over the city, its breath setting several more rooftops alight.
She had been wrong. She had been wrong about everything. She had ignored Celestine’s warnings, and now an army of dragons was burning her city away, and people were asking her for a plan. They were looking to her to save them.
She had no time for self-doubt now.
“Get as many people as you can into the river,” she said. “It’ll protect them, at least a little.”
“It’s on the other side of the city,” Finnegan said. “They won’t make it.”
“Then get people into the castle,” she said. “Down in the dungeons.” The basement room at the Alysse museum had been mostly untouched by dragon fire. Perhaps the ground would protect people here, too. She turned to the few guards that remained. “What are you waiting for? Find people, get them here. Rodric, make sure that they’re safe. Guide them, keep them calm. . . . You’ll know what to do.”
A king for another time, she had thought. He was certainly the right king for this. Rodric grabbed her hand and squeezed. His face was ashen with fear, but his expression did not waver. “I’ll do everything I can,” he said.
“I know you will.”
He hurried away, racing toward the nearest group of cowering people. He rested a hand on the back of one girl, pointing to the castle with the other. The girl nodded and began to run.
“Finnegan, you have to stay out of sight. If anyone realizes who you are, they’ll blame you. I don’t want you hurt.”
“And you?” Finnegan said. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to stop them.”
He grabbed her arm. “Then I’m coming with you.”
“You can’t. Celestine said they were drawn to me. If that’s true, then anyone near me is in danger.”
“Then I’ll be in danger,” he said. “I’m not leaving you now.”
“No.” She pushed his hand away. “I have to do this alone.” Last time Finnegan had supported her like this, he had been burned by the dragons; he had almost died. She couldn’t risk it happening again. “You know more about dealing with dragons than anyone here. If you won’t stay out of sight, help. Tell people what to do. But don’t let anyone try to fight the dragons. And come back alive.”
He pulled her up on her toes, pressing his lips against hers in a fierce kiss. “You too, dragon girl,” he said. Then he turned and ran.
The air was thick with smoke now, the stench of fire. The dragons screamed, and the people screamed, and crowds shoved toward the castle, and Aurora could feel all of it, the panic, the rage, the desperation.
She needed to think. She could run out of the city, luring the dragons with her. But the city would be destroyed before she reached the gates. She needed to control them, needed to force them down. Make them sleep, as she had once intended.
That plan had been based on delusions. She had never had any connection with the dragons, beyond the shared existence of their magic. She had wanted answers so desperately that she had woven her own, and her blindness had hurt Finnegan, it had given Celestine more power, it had brought the dragons to burn Vanhelm and Alyssinia.
She had achieved everything she’d wanted. She’d saved Finnegan, learned more about her magic, got rid of the king. She had been so convinced of her connection with the dragons that she’d ended up forging one herself. But things were never supposed to end like this.
And the dragons had not intoxicated her, not in the way she had assumed. She had not been overwhelmed by her connection to them or their magic, had not been turned into someone other than herself when the creatures were near or when she used that magic. Her giddiness, her fascination, her recklessness . . . it had all been her. She had not been in danger of corruption. She had already been corrupt.
But now she had the connection she had wanted. Now she had to use it to help. She searched the burning square for a vantage point, but the only good place was the castle, and she could not lead the dragons there with people hiding inside. King John’s pyre was already burning, as were the houses around the square. But the fountain she had destroyed