in Kalai’s grip. He couldn’t decide if he should be relieved or concerned that he couldn’t remember how that gaping hole had come to be. Had it been Excellor? Or her? Someone else?
But worse than the state of the tower was what Tauran knew was just beyond. Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed against it, a sudden rush of dizziness making him release Kalai’s hand so he could crouch and drop his head.
“Tauran?” Kalai kneeled beside him, a hand on his shoulder. “We can go back.”
“No,” Tauran said, ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him that he shouldn’t have come. “This is the best place for Arrow.” Ironic, really. The place where half a dozen dragons had died in agony.
Standing, Tauran stepped over the rubble of what had once been the guard ground walls.
It’s fine. Just don’t look around the tower. Just don’t look.
“Come on,” Tauran called over his shoulder when Kalai hesitated.
Reaching the once-golden double doors, Tauran placed both hands against the surface engraved with images of riders and dragons.
Years of rain and dirt had settled the doors, and Tauran groaned against their weight. Kalai appeared beside him, and together, they forced them open. The doors groaned at the hinges like a dying animal; the sound echoing inside the cavernous entrance hall.
Tauran stepped inside. The hall was gloomy, the beautiful mosaic floors entirely covered in a layer of dirt and dust, hiding the intricate images of dragons he knew lay underneath. Pausing in the center, Tauran tilted his head back and closed his eyes. For four years, this place had been his home. For four years, he’d lived for the Sky Guard and everything it stood for. He’d trained here. Shared meals with friends here. Intense longing made him tremble, but Kalai’s steps echoing around him broke his thoughts.
“Whoa.” Kalai spoke softly, but his voice still carried. “This place is incredible.”
“It was,” Tauran said.
Kalai walked past him to the staircase. Starting in the center and splitting in two when it reached the wall, each staircase mirrored the other as they wound their way up the inside of the tower to the second floor above, interior balconies sprouting where they crossed.
It took Tauran a few moments to will his feet to move. When he placed his hand on the alabaster handrail, a memory sprung to the front of his mind: himself, Roric, Catria and Emilian descending these very stairs on the day of their graduation, a crowd of soldiers and families gathered in the hall, cheering. His mother had been there, watching him as he ascended the dais and received his Sky Guard rider’s uniform. The senior riders had congratulated them and shaken their hands. Falka, Elysse... Andreus.
Andreus Halencio. The man who’d ruined it all.
Tauran hadn’t allowed himself to think of that name in years, and the moment he did, he remembered why. An old, white-hot rage rose inside him. Even after Andreus’ death, he refused to give Tauran peace.
“Tauran?” Kalai’s voice echoed from above. He stood on the first platform where the staircase split in two.
Tauran took the rest of the steps up without stalling, one hand against his leg to support it. The steps were worn dull by thousands of feet. The tower was hundreds of years old. “There’s a dragon balcony on the sixth floor. You can call Arrow from there, if it’s still intact.”
“Up we go, then,” Kalai said, and chose the stairs forking right.
Tauran placed his foot on the next step, glanced over the railing, and froze.
He was high up. Really high up. He’d forgotten how far down the floor looked from the first platform. The rational side of his mind knew the stairs were sturdy. There was no damage to these lower levels. But the panicked side reminded him how terrifying it had been to fall, how easy it would be to lean over the handrail and lose his balance.
A hand on his shoulder made Tauran flinch back against the wall. Kalai stood in front of him, expression full of concern.
“It’s fine,” Tauran said. “Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll catch up. I just need a moment.”
Kalai lingered, searching his face. “If you’re sure,” he said, slowly.
Tauran nodded, tilting his chin up and squaring his shoulders, even as shame curled hot and heavy in his gut. He’d been the greatest dragon rider this city had ever seen. Now, the height of a staircase made him break out in a cold sweat.
Pathetic.
“Just wait for the strike of midnight to call him,”