It was broken.
Janel had spelled the branch to resist breaking. Her falling to the ground wouldn’t have done it.
Then she realized what Senera had done. What Senera must have done.
There had never just been two branches. There had been three. Senera had anticipated Janel confiscating the twig. So Senera had enchanted a twig of her own, sympathetically linked to the other two. When Senera had broken that, she’d snapped the other two twigs, wood and metal both.3
But why? What could Relos Var have gained by sabotaging his own plan to destroy Morios? It had been his idea from the start, so why would he—?
Janel felt dizzy. She couldn’t count on any of her assumptions being true. What did she know? She knew Kihrin had Urthaenriel. She knew Senera had signaled Qown. She knew Kihrin was seconds from destroying another Cornerstone, assuming he hadn’t already.
What she didn’t know: what would actually happen. Destroying the Stone of Shackles had released the demons, after all …
Janel looked around. The army was in disarray, the survivors of Morios’s attack gathering the injured and dead. She saw her father—he’d survived—off in the distance in a yelling match with a green-robed D’Aramarin royal.
Milligreest would have a fast way to reach Tyentso. She’d just order him to—
Janel stopped herself. She couldn’t order Milligreest to do a thing. Khorveshans might not understand idorrá and thudajé, but they sure as hell understood chain of command. High General Milligreest knew who was in charge: himself.
Janel put her hand on her leg and concentrated on pulling in enough tenyé from the surrounding ground to heal her broken bone.4 Suless had taught her the trick of it. It hurt like someone putting a torch to her bare skin, but it worked fast.
She jumped to her feet. “General Milligreest!” Janel yelled. “High General Milligreest, I need your help!”
The high general paused in the middle of his confrontation with the High Lord Havar D’Aramarin. “Yes?”
“We’ve been tricked,” Janel said. “Senera and Relos Var have tricked us. The emperor has to contact Thurvishar—tell him to stop Kihrin from shattering the Cornerstone. Before it’s too late. Please, sir, I’m begging you.”
The high general gave her a hard look, but then he stared at a ring he wore—not an intaglio-cut ruby ring, but probably the same principle.
After a few agonizingly long seconds, Qoran Milligreest said, “She passed along the message, but he didn’t respond.”
Janel’s heart skipped. “What does that mean?”
“That he didn’t respond,” Qoran repeated. He turned his attention back to the high lord. “I’d leave if I were you. The emperor won’t be pleased with you when this is over.”
Havar raised an eyebrow. “She can’t hurt me. Literally can’t hurt me. Have you forgotten the restrictions that come with wearing the Crown and Scepter? She can’t so much as lay a hand on any member of a Royal House.”5
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the high general said, smiling.
The high lord sneered and started to walk way.
Then the ground began to shake.
60: BROTHERS, AGAIN
Atrine, Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Three days since Gadrith found Kihrin’s weak point
Kihrin held up a pair of dice. “So anyone feel like a game to pass the time?”
Brother Qown shook his head.
“Not a ch60ance in hell,” Thurvishar said.
Kihrin sighed.
Brother Qown raised his head and opened his hand. The metal twig had broken in two. “That’s it. That’s the signal. They’ve killed the dragon.”
“Thank the Eight,” Kihrin said. He drew Urthaenriel and slammed the edge down against the crystal.
* * *
The ground rolled under their feet, undulating.
Janel screamed as the ground tossed her up into the air like a small child playing blanket games. She hit the ground and scrambled to keep hold of something as the earth beneath her continued shaking.
Over on Lake Jorat, a whole giant section of the bridge leading to Atrine broke free and slid away. Then Janel realized she had the scale wrong.
A whole section of Demon Falls, holding back Lake Jorat itself, had just given way.
Not only was Tyentso still fighting Morios, but Janel had no way to reach her to tell her she had just seconds to slay the dragon, if they wanted a true death. And Janel was quite certain that she’d just watched their chance to permanently kill Morios this time slide away, thanks to Senera’s betrayal.
Only, what had caused the earthquake?
“I need a way over there,” Janel said to General Milligreest. “Is there anyone here you’d trust to open a portal?”
He glanced back in the direction the high lord had left. “No. And I’m not going to risk you or anyone else on the bridge in that condition.”
“I have to help them!”
“You tried,” General Milligreest told her. “There’s nothing more you can do.”
“I refuse to give up!”
“Sometimes you don’t have a choice,” Milligreest snapped. “Damn it, you’re as stubborn as your brother.” He stopped himself and winced.
Janel felt dizzy … it had never occurred to her … “I have a brother?”
“Not anymore.” Milligreest’s voice caught.
Her throat tightened at the grief in his voice. She didn’t ask what had happened. This wasn’t the time.
But then she frowned.
Brothers. Morios is looking for his brother, Janel thought. Morios thought his brother would be here too. Why?
Kihrin had speculated the dragons might all be children of the Eight, but what if it wasn’t so specific? Relos Var himself didn’t qualify, for example. He was Kihrin’s brother. So they weren’t children necessarily, but relatives of some sort. Children, parents, sisters … brothers. What if, on some level, dragons still remembered that familial connection?
Kihrin had said that the dragon Sharanakal was Thaena’s son and that he had laired near her island sanctuary. Aeyan’arric had stayed near her uncle Rev’arric, better known as Relos Var. Janel wasn’t sure which came first: Had Thaena chosen to stay near her son to keep an eye on him, or had her son chosen to stay near his mother? Had Relos Var stayed near Aeyan’arric, or the reverse? But if the pattern stayed consistent … there had been one of the Eight living in Atrine, hadn’t there?
“Khored,” she breathed.
Her father paid no attention. He probably thought she was cursing.
Janel bowed her head and prayed.
“Khored, please hear my prayer, for your brother Morios is here. Morios, who lays waste to Atrine, a city you love. Please help us, or he’ll scour this place to the ground—”
Khored said, “I can’t stay for long.”
Her father gasped and fell to one knee.
Janel looked up. Khored floated above her, red armor dark as blood, raven-feather cloak blown back by the wind. Everyone around them seemed to realize a god had appeared among them at the same time. She heard people dropping to the ground all around.
“We can’t stop him,” Janel told Khored. “Nothing’s working.”