“But, my lord, there’s a…”

The look my brother gave him, using Aiden’s face, sent the man scampering to the mechanism that opened the steel portcullis.

“I trust you can kill that thing,” he said under his breath.

“We’ll find out,” Tristan replied. “Either way, I’ll be needing your sword.”

In grim silence, we watched the heavy steel rise in its stone casement, the screams of the terrified people running in the city streets sending chills down my spine. The dragon wheeled and dove, coming up with victims in its mouth, their blood freezing into ice before it reached the ground. Frost billowed from its mouth with each roar, coating the city with ice.

“Do not step beyond the walls,” Tristan said once the gates were open, and then he walked out onto the bridge.

“Anushka is dead,” I whispered, gripping my brother’s arm.

Fred tore his gaze from Tristan. “The curse is broken?”

I nodded. “Fred… There’s something I need to tell you.” I didn’t know how to say it. How to tell him that our mother was dead, and that I’d been the one who killed her. But before speak, Tristan shouted in a language not of this world, his voice amplified by magic so that the creature would hear.

“Whatever it is can wait,” Fred replied, and I nodded in silent agreement.

The dragon drifted in lazy circles around the castle, listening to whatever Tristan was saying. It was enormous – easily the size of a ship, and I could not fathom how Tristan intended to kill it.

Tristan ceased speaking, and the dragon came round to hover above the bridge, massive wings sending blasts of wind that tore the banners from their moorings.

Thud, thud, thud.

Then the creature opened its maw, and a blast of ice hurtled through the air toward him. And smashed up against a wall of magic. Chunks of ice crashed onto the bridge and into the raging river below, and then the dragon jerked down. It shrieked in fury, trying to retreat up into the air, but invisible ropes of magic held it in place. The bridge shivered and the walls shook as Tristan bound the creature to them, drawing it down and down until it crashed into the bridge, knocking the railings into the river.

Tristan spoke again, and though I could not understand the words, from his tone, I knew he was giving the dragon one last chance to retreat. One last chance to live.

But it only roared in defiance.

Lifting Fred’s sword, Tristan swung, the blade whipping through the air to slice into the dragon’s neck, and then its head was falling. But before it could hit the ground, it turned to snow indistinguishable from that which fell from the sky. The body also turned, looking for all the world like a giant snow sculpture soon to be eroded by the wind. The blizzard died down, and the unnatural chill left the air.

“God in heaven,” Fred whispered. “How is such a thing possible?”