Last Dragon Standing (Heartstrikers #5)(100)
Knowing she’d had the best intentions just made everything worse. At this point, Julius almost wished she’d died cursing them. The hate would have stung, but at least it would have been a clean ending, not this bitter, tragic mess. Looking at Algonquin, all he could think was that if only he’d been better, said something sooner, he could have prevented this. They’d spoken before, but he’d always been too distracted by other disasters to pay attention to why Algonquin was acting the way she was. If he’d taken the time, looked harder, maybe everything would have been different. Because she wasn’t a monster. None of them were. Dragons, spirits, humans—they were all just flawed, floundering souls fumbling their way as best they could. Now they’d fumbled right off the cliff, and by the time Julius realized what was happening, it was too late.
That was what ate at him the most. Not the loss or the death, but the waste. The deep unfairness of fighting so hard only to discover you’d never had a chance. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t lose. Not after how hard they’d tried. Not after everything they’d been through.
And just like that, Julius came to a decision of his own. It took only a moment, barely a thought, but he must have spent way too much time with Bob lately, because Julius could have sworn he felt the future pivot toward a new direction as he raised his head to look at Algonquin again.
“If things had been different,” he asked quietly, “if you could do everything over, knowing what you know now, would you work with us?”
The spirit’s mirrored face flashed with annoyance, but the inevitability of their coming deaths must have been enough to defang even Algonquin’s hatred, because in the end, she just shrugged what was left of her water. “Perhaps. I certainly wouldn’t have given up like I did. I would never have run to you with open arms, but if I could go back and do it all again…” She thought a moment longer, and then her head bobbed. “I would have acted differently, yes.”
That was all Julius needed to know. “Marci?”
She lifted her head hopelessly. “If you’re looking to me for a solution, don’t bother, ’cause I’ve got nothing.”
“That’s not why I’m looking at you,” he said, leaning down to rest his feathered head on hers. “I love you.”
Marci looked surprised by the sudden show of affection, which made Julius feel guilty for not telling her the truth sooner. If they’d had time, he could have gone on forever about how much meeting her had changed his life for the better and how important she was to him. But Algonquin’s puddle was shrinking by the second, so he had to settle for a final deep breath, holding the air that smelled of Marci and magic in his mouth as long as he dared. Then, when he couldn’t stall any longer, Julius turned to the lake spirit and lurched forward, sinking his teeth deep into what was left of Algonquin.
As runt of his clutch, Julius had never been much of a dragon. He was awful in a fight, couldn’t cast spells, had terrible control of his fire, and generally failed at everything most dragons considered vital to survival. But while he was a disappointment in every traditional sense, there were two things Julius did very well: being fast and ignoring the instincts that ruled other dragons’ lives, including, in this particular instance, the drive toward self-preservation.
He bit Algonquin like a striking viper, sinking his teeth into painfully cold water that tasted of fish and death. If he’d had a thought to spare for such luxuries, he would have been proud since this was probably the best hit any dragon had ever landed on the Lady of the Lakes, but his target wasn’t actually the spirit. He was going for the tendrils that ran through her, the threads of the creature who was not from their world. Those were what Julius was eying when his jaws snapped down, devouring all that was left of Algonquin in one quick bite.
“Dragon!” The lake spirit’s voice was a roar as she poured down his throat. “What are you doing?”
“Getting you another chance,” Julius said, or tried to say. The black threads twisting down his throat hurt far more than he’d anticipated. Even with Marci screaming at him, he couldn’t make a sound. Thankfully, everything else seemed to be working perfectly.
As cold and magical as she tasted, Algonquin’s water flowed down his throat just like any other liquid. He could actually feel her spreading through his blood as she was absorbed into his body, the chill of her touch spidering through his brain as she panicked, which made him sad. He hadn’t wanted to scare her, but if he’d explained what he intended to do before he did it, he’d have risked tipping the Leviathan off. He’d hoped to tell her the truth now, but eating the Leviathan’s tendrils had hurt so much more than he’d expected. More than anything ever had, including the beating he’d gotten from Gregory. Painful as it was, though, he had to say something, because if Algonquin didn’t understand what he was doing, it was all for nothing.
“I’m a dragon,” he choked out at last. “Mostly water, like any other animal. But I’m also an outsider. A creature from another plane.” He broke off, catching a few rapid breaths before forcing himself to continue. “The Black Reach’s magic is still the pure fire of my ancestors. It’s what’s been keeping the Leviathan from eating us all this whole time. I figured if the fire could stop him from eating Marci and me, it could keep him from eating you too.”