Chapter 6

I held the Silverwing's gaze as it came down at me.

Its wings blocked the morning sun. Loose dirt struck my trousers, and the collar of my rough blouse whipped against my neck. I could see the blood along the edge of one wing, where the skin had not yet closed.

“Lena.” Caelan's hand tightened on my arm. “Don't run.”

“I wasn't going to.”

The Silverwing spread its wings before it reached us.

The gust drove me backward. I dug my heels into the dirt and stopped just short of the edge. Its claws struck the ground ahead of my boots, cutting deep grooves in the stone beneath the dirt.

It lowered its head until we were looking straight at each other.

There was nothing gentle about it. Blood marked the pale scales beneath its jaw, and its teeth showed between its parted jaws. Yet it had stopped when it could have crushed me.

I stayed where I was.

Its gaze dropped to Caelan's hand on my arm, then returned to my face. Its head tilted a little. I wondered whether it understood that I had warned it, or whether it was trying to work out why a human would bother.

“I didn't want them to hurt you,” I said.

A growl came from deep in its throat. Behind it, wings beat against the air, and someone shouted for the other riders to spread out.

Caelan stepped beside me. “Give it space.”

The Silverwing drew its wounded wing closer to its body. The torn edge was closing, but slowly. Blood still dripped onto the ground.

“You can heal,” I said. “Caelan told me. There's something I need to ask—”

Movement flashed beyond its shoulder.

The rider who had tried to strike it before was coming around again. His dragon swept low over the clearing, and he rose in his seat with another spear drawn back. The spear's broad metal head pointed at the thin, still-healing patch of the Silverwing's wing.

“Behind you!” I stepped toward the Silverwing, lifting a hand just as the rider hurled the spear.

The dragon jerked away from me, pulling back its wing and leaving me directly in the spear's path.

Something punched through my left shoulder.

The impact tore my arm from Caelan's grip and sent me staggering backward. Pain shot through my shoulder, tearing a cry from my throat.

The shaft stuck out in front of me. My right hand closed around it, but I couldn’t stop myself.

There was no ground beneath my next step. Caelan lunged, his fingers brushing my wrist before I fell.

“Lena!”

My boots struck the cliff, spinning me sideways. The spear shaft scraped against the rock and wrenched my shoulder. I screamed.

Above me, another spear struck the Silverwing as it turned toward the edge. It staggered, then leaped after me.

I reached for it with my good arm.

It dropped beneath me and spread its wings. The injured one buckled, rolling its body sideways. I struck its wing instead of its back and slid across the scales, unable to find a hold.

Its good wing caught the air, slowing our fall, but the ground was already rushing up.

We hit the rocks.

Something cracked inside my chest.

Pain burst through my side, and my mouth filled with dirt. The Silverwing's wing lay beneath part of my body, but my legs had struck the stones beyond it. When I tried to pull them closer, a sharp, sickening pain stopped me.

For a while, I could do nothing except drag in small breaths.

The ravine walls rose on either side of us, leaving only a strip of blue sky overhead. Loose stones pattered down nearby. Somewhere beyond my head, the Silverwing scraped its claws against the ground.

I turned toward the sound.

It was pushing itself up. Its injured wing dragged over the dirt, leaving a red smear. When the dragon lifted the wing, the movement pulled at my blouse and sent another stab of pain through my ribs.

“Wait,” I breathed. The dragon went still.

My right hand was wet. I brought it toward my face and saw blood between my fingers. More soaked through my blouse around the spear, spreading toward the collar.

I pressed my palm against the cloth. My arm shook with the effort.

Mother had begged me to stay. I'd held her and promised I'd come home. Now I could barely breathe, and I hadn't even asked the dragon if it could help her.

The Silverwing bent its neck. Its nose hovered near the shaft in my shoulder, and warm air stirred the blood-soaked fabric. I could have touched its teeth.

“My mother,” I said.

The words came out thin. I swallowed, tasted blood, and tried again.

“Her name is Mara. She's sick.”

The dragon watched me. A drop of blood fell from its wing and darkened the dust beside my hand.

“Purple marks. On her arms.” My lips were going numb. “They said there's no cure.”

My palm slipped from my shoulder. I tried to put it back, but I no longer had the strength to press down. Cold spread through me despite the sun reaching the bottom of the cliff.

“Can you help her?”

The Silverwing shifted closer. I lifted my head to keep looking at it, but pain caught beneath my ribs. The next breath barely came.

“Please,” I said. “Can you make her better?”

Its face blurred. I blinked until I could see the pale scales again, but the edges of them kept fading. There was still no answer, and I had no strength left to ask a third time.

The last thing I saw was the Silverwing lowering its head and opening its jaws above me.