Before She Ignites (Fallen Isles Trilogy #1)(100)

At last, I found myself in the anteroom. Struggling to catch my breath, urging my sight to return to normal, I found the thin blankets always stored here, took six, and slipped them through the straps of my backpack. They dangled around my legs, but I’d take anything that looked useful now. I had no idea what we might face outside the prison.

If we got out.

Still wishing I’d taken the reins from Tirta, wishing warriors kept calm-whistles, I hauled open the cellblock door. It was time to face the dragon.

Heat gusted outward. I staggered back, but I forced myself to move deeper into the hall.

It was dim, as always, but eerily quiet considering there were nine prisoners and a dragon inside.

I lifted my noorestone to my side, to keep the shine out of my eyes, and that was when I saw her. Kelsine slinked out of one of the cells, no longer terrified and cowed by the Drakon Warriors, but with a confidence that revealed her understanding of her dominance. She might be a young dragon, but she was still a dragon in a cellblock full of delicate, flammable humans.

A small gasp escaped me, drawing her attention.

At once, Kelsine lunged down the hall, her brown scales shimmering in the faint light.

“Wait!” I shouted, as if she could understand me. As if she had any reason to trust me.

“Mira?” That was Ilina’s voice.

Talons scraped the stone floor as Kelsine charged me, and deep, red flames dragged around her teeth. She was too young to ignite the air, and her fire was nearly extinguished now—probably from using so much—but that didn’t change the danger I was in. She had teeth. And talons.

A cacophony of voices rose up, all screaming at me, at the dragon, at the bars on their cells.

I clutched my noorestone in one hand, wishing to all the Fallen Gods I’d managed to get the dragon reins. Or a calm-whistle. Anything that would help. Anything but this pathetic jacket that might be fire resistant but certainly wasn’t crush proof.

I had two options:

1. Duck into one of the cells on either side of me.

2. Retreat into the anteroom.

They were both terrible solutions.

And then there was Kelsine herself. Though charging at me, she was exhausted, and the dying fire proved it. She was all fear and adrenaline, a dangerous combination for me and for her. This poor creature. Her parents taken. Trapped in a strange hall. Humans screaming at her.

“Oh, Kelsine,” I whispered. My heart broke. I could imagine the anguish of family ripped away, the terror of being surrounded by strangers, the wild need to survive against all odds—because I’d been there. I was still there.

At two dragon-lengths away, Kelsine stopped and lifted her eyes to mine.

My heart thrummed as her entire posture shifted from aggressive to . . . submissive? That couldn’t be right. But her wings folded, her back lowered, and her face turned downward to the floor. A huge sigh rolled out of her.

“What happened?” Varissa’s question hissed across the cellblock, and I quickly looked for Kelsine’s response, but the dragon appeared sedated.

“Don’t say anything,” I warned them, doing my best to keep my voice level. Tone neutral. Kelsine made herself smaller.

I needed to move. To free my friends. This was our chance to get out of here, but the longer I took, the more likely it was that Altan awakened and came for us. And I couldn’t imagine a world where Tirta didn’t search this very cellblock when she escaped the armory.

So I took one step forward. Two. Three. The numbers steadied my thoughts as I strode toward the dragon, knelt, and caressed the ridge of hot scales over her eye. Her third lid slid into place, but she didn’t back away. She didn’t break her gaze.

“I know you’re scared,” I whispered. “So am I.”

A deep shudder tore through her, but she was listening.

“I won’t let them hurt you again, sweet dragon.”

She blinked slowly as I stood up, then moved around her—toward Ilina’s cell. Over the incredible pounding of my heart, I heard only a small scrape of talons on stone as she turned to watch.

I breathed. In long. Out long. Just like Doctor Chilikoba had taught me. I made every breath last five steps, and little by little, the worst of the anxiety cleared.

Finally, I reached Ilina.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

“She’s a baby. I calmed her.” I passed her the bow and quiver, then twisted so she could remove Altan’s key ring from the sword hilt where I’d stowed it. “Fourth from the maces, I think.” At least, that was the key for my cell. “If that’s not it, we’ll have to find a way to pick the locks.”

“How encouraging,” she said, but she was still searching me like she couldn’t believe what I’d done.

While Ilina dealt with the keys, I went to Hristo’s cell and passed him a sword. He nodded in thanks. Then I went to Gerel’s.

“I’m trusting you,” I said. “However unwise that may be, I’m trusting you, and I’m getting you out of here, too. Don’t betray me.”

“I have never lied to you.” She narrowed her eyes. “Give me the sword.”

“What about the dragon?” Ilina was just stepping out of her cell and moving toward Hristo’s.

“The real question,” said Altan, striding in from the anteroom with fourteen warriors at his back, “is what did you do to the dragon?”