She clenched her jaw. “You should have thought of that before.”

“I doubt it would have mattered.” I strode toward the skull of the first dragon, and the throb of power intensified. “No matter what I’d done with those dragons, you’d have decided to keep me here.”

Apolla watched me, not moving from her position. “I meant what I said about my city being safer with you here. If your people figure out how to hurl another noorestone at us, you’ll be able to mitigate the damage the way you did last time.”

The way I’d done it last time had nearly ripped me apart.

“I’m also hoping you’ll bring my dragons back to me. They’re more than creatures. I know you feel the same way. I want them to be my family.”

That was impossible, but it didn’t benefit me to deny her that dream. “Those are not the real reasons. You already prevented my people from attacking Sunder when you removed the noorestone substance and the catapult. And once the earthquake is over, it will be a simple matter to call the dragons back to the park—although I can’t say what will happen during the next one.”

Only three more.

“Tell me the truth,” I said. “You owe me that much.”

She sighed, not with annoyance, but resignation. She didn’t hate me enough to toss me into the nearest prison, which meant she intended to keep me close. And it would be easier to tell me now than endure questions until one or both of us died of old age.

“I know what you are,” she murmured. “They call you Hopebearer, and Dragonhearted, but you have a dragon soul. It’s clear to see, and after what I witnessed in the park—both times—I have no doubt that you could be a most important asset to my rule.”

The Luminary Council had seen me that way, too.

“I am a conqueror, Mira. No, I’m not interested in your islands, and I wouldn’t be even if they were staying. Your magic is interesting, but powerless away from its source—aside from the gifts you and your friends possess. Your lands have nothing I value, aside from dragons. And now I have a girl who can tell dragons what to do. Imagine what we could accomplish together.”

I sighed. If she believed she could ever persuade me to join her in conquering other kingdoms, then she didn’t know me at all.

Seconds ticked away in the back of my head. Every one of them took my friends farther from me, but not fast enough. Not with the limited noorestones.

“Are you hungry?” Apolla asked. “Should we go to dinner?”

It hadn’t been long enough—an hour would barely get them out of the harbor—but I had no more time to give them, not without risking more than we could afford.

“Mira.” Apolla’s tone sharpened. “I asked you a question.”

“It’s hard to consider whether I’m hungry when you’ve sent my friends and family off to die, and you’re planning how you’ll use me to conquer your enemies.” I drifted back toward the skull, and the thrum of her power pulsed through me, welcoming and eager. “You know, The Book of Love has a great deal to say about forgiveness, as forgiveness is an inherently loving act. It offers peace and resolution to both the person being forgiven, and the person who is forgiving. It’s a love that benefits both parties.”