“Really,” Isobelle managed, somewhat laughing and mostly crying, grabbing Gwen under the arms when her hips got stuck, and pulling. Gwen scrambled and kicked, and then came free. They collapsed, clinging to each other.

“Isobelle,” Gwen whispered, as Isobelle tried to wrap herself around the other girl, only to find that armor was extremely effective at preventing embraces. “Isobelle, I’m sorry. You were right. We absolutely should have run away to France.”

Isobelle’s tears began all over again, a sob shaking her body. “No, Gwen, I was wrong. I’m so sorry. I tried to stop you being who you are, I tried to make you fit into their mold, and I—”

Gwen’s lips found hers, and though the kiss tasted like earth and salt, Isobelle wanted it to last forever. But far too soon, Gwen was drawing back. “There’s no time,” she gasped. “I don’t know if you saw, but . . .”

Isobelle’s eyes widened. “The dragon!” She let go of Gwen instantly, and they both rolled away from each other, coming up on all fours and rising to their knees to look for the great beast. It had flown out over the forest in a wide circle, but it was clawing its way through the air back toward them now, one wing shredded.

And it was making a noise that made Isobelle freeze inside—that made her want to flatten herself to the ground or run away to hide in the nearest hole. It was bellowing its fury, the low, rough roar of its voice overlaid with a high screech that made her hair stand on end.

“Gwen, I’m back where I started,” Isobelle managed. “We should run away.”

Gwen gently took her hand. “I can’t,” she said softly.

“I know,” Isobelle said, and her tears were falling again, but she made no effort to stop them. Some things deserved to be cried over. “I know.”

“I think I could kill it, if only I could get near it without looking it in the eye,” Gwen said, tracking the creature as it came closer. “It has some sort of hypnotic power, an ability to paralyze—I broke through it before, but I don’t know if I can do it again, especially while I’m trying to fight the thing. I just need one clear moment to strike.”

Isobelle wrenched her gaze away from the dragon and settled it on Gwen. “One moment?”

Gwen nodded slowly.

Isobelle gathered her courage around her like her own suit of armor. “I can make that happen.”

Gwen’s gaze snapped across to her. “You can distract it?”

“I can give you your moment.”

“You’re sure?” There was such a tangle in Gwen’s familiar gaze—hope, worry, a dazed understanding that they were talking about fighting a dragon.

“I promise,” said Isobelle.

Gwen hesitated, her fear obvious in her eyes—and then nodded. “All right.”