Now, see as the beast begins to turn its head, imagining itself challenged by a dozen other, smaller dragons. Hear the low rumble of momentary confusion as it tries to size up this new threat, instinct driving it to protect its territory against these interlopers.

Watch as the statue of a knight shakes her head, like she’s coming out of a dream.

Hold your breath, as Gwen realizes that this is her moment. . . .

Chapter Forty-Nine
You were never alone

Isobelle had half blinded herself with her own torch, waving it in desperate arcs that left white stripes dancing in her night vision, but she saw Gwen adjust her grip on her spear. Saw Achilles snort and paw at the ground—saw Gwen’s weight shift.

I only need a moment, Gwen had said. But she could see the unsteadiness in Gwen’s movements, the uneven balance of her seat in Achilles’s saddle as she tried to recover from whatever the dragon’s gaze had done to her. Isobelle’s heart caught, sank, stuttered—and then leapt into hope once more.

Take your moment, she silently urged Gwen.

Gwen sat up and touched her heels to Achilles’s flanks, her body weight shifting back as she raised the spear and hurled the ancient weapon with a cry of rage and effort that rang across the field.

An earth-shaking scream of fury and pain nearly knocked Isobelle flat, but as she fell to her knees, she looked up to see the spear drive deep into the creature’s eye, the molten gold bursting and shrinking in around the metal shaft. Isobelle wanted to look away from the gruesome sight, but she could not stop staring until her eyes began to water—not until a ragged cry of triumph went up around the ring of torchbearers did Isobelle dare believe what she’d seen.

The creature was blind—the power of its paralytic eyes was gone.

Achilles blew hard, prancing backward, then wheeling away to canter across the field as the dragon thrashed, flailing with its long forearms and spraying a gout of raging flame into the sky. Gwen clung to Achilles’s saddle, still staggered, gathering her wits—and the dragon turned blindly toward the sound of Achilles’s hooves.

Isobelle dragged herself back to her feet, her torch no use as a distraction now the creature could no longer see. “Over here!” she cried, as the dragon threatened to turn toward Gwen.

“To me, you wicked thing!” called Jane, making up for her lack of conviction with sheer volume.

“We will rip your head off!” Hilde screeched, truly caught up in the blood of her ancestors now, on the verge of looking for a country to invade.