“Good. Good. Now, this is the important part. You must focus your intention on the bond. It is malleable and can bend to your will. So, you want to focus on it becoming a crux bond. You want to be in control of your dragon with all the proper properties. My brother’s bonds are exceptional because his intention has been developed over the years. I could probably write an entire series of books on the importance of intention, but we only have right now. So, try that.” Then, abruptly, Cleora turned away from her. “Lords, I must get back. Time is a slippery thing on the plane.”

“Wait… what do I do now?”

“Tether it to your dragon. Once it’s in place, they will follow your command until you remove it. If you’re not in a place to attach the bond, I’d suggest running for cover. Dragons will always kill before allowing a bond. Good luck. I will see you in seven turns.”

Then, Cleora popped out of existence as if she never were.

Kerrigan still held the crux bond in her grip. Could this actually work with Tieran? The bond was supposed to go both ways. Not leave her in complete control. Wherever Cleora was from, they must have different kinds of dragons because she could never use sheer force of will to hold any dragon, least of all Tieran.

She dropped her hands, the crux disappearing as easily as Cleora had. She’d found a spiritcaster teacher. Not the one she had been expecting. But nothing since the tournament had first started had been expected. At least if she had a teacher, she’d be able to use her spiritcasting and not have that magic poisoning her.

If she could just get out of here.

She took a deep breath and released it gently. Yes, she was ready. The world was waiting. No more lingering here.

She dropped. This time, the plane released her, and she fell into her body.

54

The Awakening

Kerrigan woke to darkness. Her head pounded, and her throat was dry. Her stomach seized, as if she hadn’t eaten anything in days. And though her magic felt tapped, the first press of it began to rise when called, reassuring her that she hadn’t lost it entirely.

She had no idea where she was. She’d passed out at Dozan’s and ended up in a fine bedroom that would never be found in the Wastes. She snapped her fingers—old habits die hard—and a weak flame appeared in her palm. Clover lay, curled up in a chair across the opulent room. She’d here before. They must have brought her to Helly after she blacked out.

“Clover,” she rasped, not quite trusting her feet under her yet.

Clover jumped straight out of the chair. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

“You were, but it’s fine.”