Even from flight, with the real creatures all around me, the black glass dragons were beautiful, majestic. The people of Sunder were proud of them, and they should be, but they weren’t real. They were the only dragons the Algotti empress would ever own.

As all of us flew between the black dragons, one after another, lightning cracked across the sky, making the back of my throat tingle.

I lifted my head and breathed fire.

We must have looked terrifying to anyone on the ground. As far as dragons went, the mimikus and ignituses weren’t big, but the former kept shifting shades of gray—to blend with the storm above—and the latter looked like a pair of flying suns. And the others—they were big. Their wings made windstorms, and their roars shook the whole sky.

And then there was the first dragon. Me. Us.

An immense skeletal dragon who’d been displayed in the empress’s throne room for decades. Centuries. Maybe longer. With wings of fire and a cry that could rip the world asunder. I imagined anyone who looked up went inside their homes as quickly as possible.

They couldn’t see me up here, a young woman in a sodden blue gown, or the pair of raptuses clutching to the first dragon’s bones, shrieking with wild abandon. Their wings were tented up, their faces turned high, and hot blue flame poured around their teeth and dragged along their tiny gold and silver bodies. It was safer for them here, where the bigger dragons wouldn’t accidentally knock them around, and the first dragon welcomed her tiny wingsisters.

And she loved it. She loved all of this as much as I did. Now that she was surrounded by her own kind, a fierce, burning joy filled her. Flying together, wings pounding, and fire burning through the rain: this was everything she’d wanted for two millennia.

As we flew over the harbor, the first dragon and I dipped low, letting the tips of our wings skim across the surface. Trails of steam rose up behind us, and the raptuses chittered with glee.

Then: human voices called, and black ships moved into formation. Mages—men and women wearing the same kind of robes I’d seen when I’d first arrived—climbed onto the decks and lifted their hands.

Through my connection with the dragons, I could feel their curiosity, the stir of fire in their throats. I understood, too, the desire to hurt those who’d hurt them.

But now wasn’t the time to pit dragon fire against imperial magic. I’d promised them we’d all go home, so I drew myself up and up and up, and the other seven followed until the ships were toys in the water.

It was from this height I realized the harbor guard and mages weren’t mobilizing against us.

The Fallen Isles fleet moved west as quickly as it could, but without the noorestone substance, they’d never be able to outrun the imperial ships. My friends had only moments before they were in range of the cannons.