“They were always hunting her, St. George,” I snapped. “Every single day. The hunt never stops. The war never ends. Or did that fact slip your mind? The only thing that’s changed is now the Order has a wasp up their ass because their pride has been stomped on, and they’ll be desperate to save face. Never mind that they’ve been kicking down our doors and blowing us to pieces for years. But don’t worry about Ember.” I smirked, as his face darkened. “The Order won’t ever get that close. I’ll take care of her.”

“Also,” came a new voice from the doorway, “she’s quite capable of taking care of herself.”

Guiltily, we turned. Ember stood at the edge of the tile, arms crossed, looking peeved with us both. Her red hair stuck out at every angle, and she was definitely thinner than normal, making my gut squeeze tight. But her green eyes were as bright as ever, and the fire lurking below the surface hadn’t dimmed. I could see the dragon peering out at me, the echo of wings hovering behind her. She shot us—well, me—an exasperated glare, before marching to the refrigerator door and yanking it open.

“Ember,” St. George began as she emerged with a flat white box. “I—”

“Garret,” Ember interrupted. Her voice was a warning as she turned around. “Not to sound rude, but I am a dragon who hasn’t eaten for the past three days. Unless you’re about to reveal a stash of doughnuts hidden somewhere in this room, I would steer clear right now.”

He blinked, and I snickered at his shocked expression as Ember moved past us, heading toward the counter. “Number one rule when dealing with dragons, St. George,” I said, as the girl hopped onto a stool and opened up the box. “Don’t get between a hungry hatchling and its food. You might lose a finger.”

Ember glared at me, looking like she might growl something in return, but then decided food was more important and devoured half a slice in one bite. I went to the fridge for a soda, and St. George settled quietly against the wall, as the starving dragon went through an entire pepperoni pizza by herself. Two minutes later, Ember trashed the box, dusted off her hands and finally turned to look at us.

“So.” She drummed her fingers on her arm, looking back and forth at each of us. “What now?”

Good question. “I guess that depends, Firebrand.”

“On what?”

“You.” She frowned at me, confused. Crushing the empty can, I put it in the sink and went to the fridge for another. “Let me ask you something,” I said as I closed the door. “What did you think was going to happen, Firebrand? After you left Talon? After you went rogue?”