Leira couldn’t possibly look less impressed.

“Stop!” Raze says. I meet his eyes, trying to read his face. I think I can guess what he’s thinking: Leira is right. The firedrake, fully grown, could be a formidable weapon. The fact that there’s nothing else like it in the world would make it almost unstoppable. That isn’t the kind of power that someone like Leira Wildfall should have.

And we’re selfish—horribly, irredeemably selfish. Because both of us would trade the lives of thousands of faceless victims bound to suffer under Leira’s thumb for Isolde and Olani.

In a heartbeat.

Raze steps forward, untying the makeshift sling from his chest. He walks slowly, deliberately, to his aunt, holding it out. The fabric slips away, uncovering the egg. It glimmers merrily in the artificial light.

I hate this. I’m sick with guilt, knowing how badly she hurt Raze, knowing she’d do it all over again to this poor creature, as long as it gets her what she wants.

But we don’t have another choice.

“Thank you, Raze,” Leira says mildly, like he’s a disobedient child. She picks the egg up in both hands, abandoning the sling. Her eyes light with something greedy, and her dragons stretch their long, sinewy necks up, sniffing the egg curiously.

Raze says nothing. I can sense him gritting his teeth, even though his back is to me.

“Okay, now let them go.” I’m surprised by the strength of my own voice. My eyes stay on Isolde, on Aris relaxing her grip and lowering her knife.

Leira lets confusion settle over her features for a brief second before wiping it away with a smile. “I’m afraid I may have stretched the truth about that one a little bit.”

She lied. Of course she lied. Because she’s human and she can, which makes dealing with her somehow even more dangerous than a faerie deal. We just gave up our only bargaining chip, and we have nothing left to appeal to except her mercy.

She strokes the dragon’s egg like a favored pet. “Aris.”

“Aris.” I’m surprised to hear Raze echo his aunt, a pleading note in his low voice. They were raised together. Their history is troubled, but it runs deep between them. Maybe even deep enough to persuade her to do the right thing.

She looks as surprised to hear Raze say her name as I was, and for a second, she doesn’t move. Her eyes go back and forth between him and Leira, and for a moment, hope dares to flutter in my chest.

Leira’s jaw tightens, and she gives a brief turn of her head to stare at her niece. She doesn’t even have to say another word.

Aris’s knife flashes in the light, pressing lightly to my sister’s throat. Isolde flinches, too tightly bound to do anything else, her dark eyes round and watery.

“Now,” Leira says pleasantly, cradling the egg, “here’s how this is going to go. We’re going to leave this wretched place. You are not going to try to stop us, with magic or otherwise. I see the tiniest spark, feel the smallest rumble underfoot—Aris kills them both. I see you following us on the road back to Auremore—Aris kills them both. You try any number of terribly clever but ultimately ill-conceived plans—any guesses?”