EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

Wide brown eyes stare

solemnly at the world. And as the little boy gazes at a toy horse, the ghost of a smile creeps on his face. He rolls it along the edge of the porch. His ruddy cheeks and brown hair make him look almost angelic. The front door opens. An old woman hobbles out, gripping a cane in one hand. She leans to pat his head. Without warning, Nathaniel drops the toy and throws himself at the old woman’s feet. The woman releases the cane and stoops to enfold him. Her gnarled body seems withered next to his stout, flushed form.

Perched on the tree beside me, Adom watches with a somber veneer.

“So, this is what happened to him.” My voice breaks.

He says nothing for a moment. “Don’t tell the dragons.”

“Is that what you did for all the survivors? You found their families?”

He avoids my eyes. “There are two classes of survivor, Elanor. The human ones that survived the scorching when a rogue dragon burned their lands. I put those children up in my country homes where they are cared for until relatives are found who will take them in.”

“What’s the other group of survivors, Adom?”

“Children who, like Lord Berrel, can’t acknowledge that they have a terrible and dangerous secret. Changeling children.”

Every muscle in my body tightens. “And which am I, Adom? You brought me to Onyx, but I’ve never changed before.” The blood begins to pound in my temple. “I don’t think I’ve ever changed before.”

His silence perturbs me.

“Adom, please tell me that I’m not a changeling.”

“I don’t know, Elanor.”

“Then why would you bring me to Onyx? And why am I the only one you kept there?”

Adom looks to the east. The haunted look in his face sears my soul. Gently, he places a hand over mine. I flinch, instinctively expecting pain. He catches the look and draws back, his eyes reflecting both horror and self-loathing. “To answer that, I have to go back. Do you have time for a story?”

“As long as you don’t speak riddles, like Muuth, I’ll listen.”

“There was once a wealthy man who had a despondent son and lovely wife. The man was dark and cruel. He beat his wife and starved his son. He made them live in squalor and only showed kindness to them when they were in public. The man began to believe that there was something wrong about them, something evil. He hurt them more and more until it became unbearable for the wife. She took the boy and they left.”

“You’re telling me your story.”

“Yes.”

“But how does it connect to me?”

“For a while, my mother and I lived peacefully, away from the abuse. But he was merciless, and he couldn’t leave us alone. He heard of a dragon-killer roaming the land, murdering changelings. He hired the killer to help him track us. At last we were found, one frigid winter’s night, hiding in a cabin at the edge of a woods. The killer made quick work of my mother. He beheaded her in front of me.”

“Was your father there?”

“He was. But he only stayed for a few moments. To stare at the face of the woman he had married and to gloat that this was her punishment for leaving him. Then he left the killer to finish the job. I submitted. I fell over Mother and wept, but I didn’t fight back. I knew I was going to die.”

“So the killer spared you.”

“Not quite. The killer gave me a terrible task and said if I fulfilled it, I would live.”

“What was the task?”

“Mother was pregnant. The killer told me to take the baby out of the womb, go into the woods, and bury it under the permafrost. He wanted me to murder my own sibling.”

“And did you?” I ask, on a breath.

Returning once again to the safety of a narrative, Adom continues, “The boy turned his hand into a claw, and ripped open the mother’s womb. He took the baby out and cut the cord. There was blood everywhere, and the boy wanted to be sick. But when he heard the baby cry, when he looked into his little sister’s eyes for the first time, he loved her.” Adom turns hollow eyes onto mine. “He took the baby into the woods, but he didn’t bury her. He walked through the forest, to a neighboring farm. He took off his cloak and wrapped the baby up tight. He knocked on the door, fled to a nearby tree, and waited for someone to answer.”

“And someone did.”

He nods. “Someone did. The boy didn’t stay to see what happened next. He knew the killer would be waiting, and if he didn’t appear soon, he would be hunted. That they would both be hunted. So he went back, and told the killer he’d completed the task. He swore his allegiance to the killer, and vowed to do whatever the killer asked of him. The man took the boy to Onyx, where he was enslaved by the dragons and worked as their servant for many years until two dragons took pity on him and taught him the dragon way. They made him strong, yet still showed him kindness. When they were murdered, the boy left and went back to Trana, and that’s when he met the dragon king. I think you know most of the rest by now.”

“That’s a horrible story, Adom.” I put a hand over his. “I’m so ashamed. I shouldn’t have wasted so much energy hating you.” I bend my head so he can’t see the emotion in my eyes.

Adom says nothing. Nathaniel and his Grannie finish their loving embrace and enter the small house. Adom grabs the tree branch below us, folds his legs so his feet rests on the branch, and swings backward. For a moment, he hangs suspended over the ground. Then he lets go of the branch and lands on the ground with a thud. I follow his example, my mind overwhelmed.

So many questions had at last been answered these past few weeks. I don’t have to creep in order to avoid Adom’s wrath. I don’t fear him anymore. “I’m so sorry.”

Adom watches with deep, pain-filled eyes. “You must know, Elanor. I’ve always admired your courage, your resilience, your uncanny ability to cut right to the heart of every matter.” He shudders and lets out a breath. “I wish I had an ounce of your bravery.”

My whole life revolved around the prospect of revenge. I had planned to kill Adom, to avenge my family, to destroy the dragon herd. And what will that accomplish now? Absolutely nothing. I want so badly to hate someone. But not Adom. Not anymore.

We walk in silence. The world dims with the coming of twilight. Vibrant rays of orange fill the sky. A beautiful white dove rises out of the trees and soars toward the sun. “You didn’t answer my question,” I realize out loud. “Do you suspect I’m a changeling?”

He stops walking, his entire body tense and radiating shame. I hug my arms against the slight chill. “It’s past,” he says. “Please—let’s not discuss it. I can’t think…”

“But I have to talk about it.” I step closer. He shifts away, and his face hardens. “Adom, we have all these unresolved…

things

.” I search for the right words. “You hurt me. And you let me hate you. Why did you keep me on Onyx? And why didn’t you tell me about your past?”

“Don’t,” he rasps, his voice breaking.

I sense untapped emotion boiling beneath the surface—a whole well of it he never once revealed. My heart dances in my chest. My freedom is secure. “Tell me.”

“Fine. But you won’t like it. The home I found you in after the dragon scorched your farmlands? It was the same home I’d left her at. The place I abandoned my infant sister.”

My mouth gapes open. “You think I’m…”

He nods. “You emerged from a pile of ashes. Unscathed. Your only memories of the event were of your parents screaming at you in terror and then shoving you into a cellar.”

“You think I did it. I changed and burned down my own home. Killed my own family.”

“I think...it’s very possible...that you have Malandre in your blood. I also think it’s possible you have dragon in your blood. Between those two things, I couldn’t let you go. I’ve tried interviewing people in your home town to see if anybody knew anything specific about the fire or your family, but so far I haven’t had any luck.”

I can’t wrap my mind around anything else he’s said. “You think I’m your sister?”

“Does that upset you?”

“Maybe.” I swallow several times and draw patterns in the dirt with the toe of my boot. “Could we go back to the compound? Talk to Odeba’s people again? One of them might know, might remember, something about that day. Some of them would have been around then.”

He nods. “That’s a good idea. Yes, once the compound is together again, I’ll take you there. We’ll talk to them, see if anybody knows about the fire at Avery village.”

Suddenly my throat is thick and everything around me blurs.

A hand falls on mine. “Elanor?” he asks. “Are you well?”

I swallow several times. “I didn’t know that was what it was called.”

“I’m…so sorry.” And his voice sounds broken, like he really means it.

A dark figure darts across the sky. Adom hasn’t noticed it yet. I look past him, my attention fixed, fascinated with its graceful loops and twirls. It paints the sky with its tail.

“Adom.” I jab at air.

He spins. “Go get the horse and return to the castle,” he orders. “I’m going after her.”

“I don’t think so,” I reply, reaching for the arrows in my sack. “I’m going with you.”

He stares at me, incredulous.

“You think I’m a changeling, don’t you?”

“But I’ve never seen you change. Believe me, I’ve tried my best to provoke it out of you. And you’re not trained for combat. Please, Elanor. Reconsider.”

“These arrows are tipped in dragonsbane, a little concoction Patience made up when she thought my life might be in danger. She’s training me in shooting and on the sword as well.”

“Even if you are a changeling, you haven’t learned to control the change as yet.”

“I don’t need to change, brother.” At that, he winces. “All I need is a compliant dragon who will let me catch a ride. I’ll do the rest with my flaming arrows.” I’m lucky to be currently wearing the dragon armor that Patience made for me underneath my servant’s clothes.

After a moment, he sighs and runs past the hill, out of sight. In moments, a greenish gray figure emerges from the shadows of the mound. I race across the plains toward the serpent. The dragon bellows, its eyes transfixed on the figure in the sky. I clamber on its back, and after I’m securely clutching the folds of its neck, Adom bounds into the clouds in fast pursuit of the rogue.

I don’t know if Adom is truly my brother. I can’t even process how I feel about it right now. I don’t know if I’m a changeling, as he suspects. After we confront this rogue, we’ll go and see this Odeba again. If Adom’s suspicions are correct, I’ll need time to think about what it means. To be Adom’s sister. To be a changeling dragon. My head reels even thinking about it.

So, instead of worrying about the

what ifs

, I say a prayer for Nathaniel and his Grannie. The new dragon doesn’t appear to be heading this direction, and so far I don’t smell smoke or see any charred lands. It’s a good sign, but one can never be too sure when dealing with dragons.