I would not be her weapon.

On the western horizon, black clouds rolled over the ocean. Lightning shot through the sky, illuminating the shapes of the billowing, boiling storm. With every flash of light, the back of my throat tingled, and a thread of excitement skittered through me. Dragons loved storms, and this one promised to be incredible. Though still hours off, it would be a drenching downpour when it arrived—a deluge that the city of Sunder did not need right now.

“We’re almost there,” said the lead guard as the barge servants cleared away my tray. “Just a few more minutes.”

I thanked him, but I could already feel the dragons’ proximity.

And the noorestone.

It was a grating, scratching noise in the back of my head, hot with unstoppable power. When we reached the dragon park, it was the first thing I saw. Even though I was prepared for the size—I’d seen them before—it still shocked me.

It was huge—as big as a small house—and its glow rivaled a summer sun. Fourteen imperial soldiers stood at attention around it, though they kept their backs to its impossibly bright shine.

In the cool blue-white light, the scorch mark that covered the ground was perfectly black. I followed the shadow of the Drakontos celestus from the noorestone to the keepers’ building, then to the river where one wing extended, and then on past the mound of unconscious dragons.

And there, waiting by the dragons, stood Apolla. As always, she was resplendent in gold and white, with a stiff brocade cape that trailed after her. Boots peeked out beneath her gown—white, of course—but perhaps mages had woven sigils of repelling into all her clothes, because the fabric was spotless.

I approached, flanked by the guards she’d sent along with me.

“Mira.” Her tone was cordial, pleasant. “You’ve awakened.”

As though this meeting were a surprise. As though her people hadn’t been listening to every word uttered in the suite she’d generously given us.

“Yes.” The dragons—their slow breathing, their walled-up minds, their slide into death—made me keep my own tone level. No matter my anger, my fear, I needed to keep it separate from them. They didn’t deserve to feel any more negativity than they were already suffering. “I’ve been told your personal doctors and healers saw to my recovery. You have my gratitude.”

She smiled—a polite, practiced expression. “You and your friends are the most valuable guests I’ve ever had the honor of hosting in the imperial palace.”

Her words sent a shiver through me. Valuable. The Algotti Empire had listening sigils, healing magic, the power to make ships cross the ocean in mere days—but they didn’t have someone whose shadow separated from her to search for survivors; they didn’t have someone who could make crops grow with only a thought; they didn’t have someone who could silence entire cities to allow only one voice to be heard.

We were valuable. And Nine had warned us when she’d said Apolla found our gifts fascinating.