Kerrigan met Clover’s eyes across the circle near the back, and she was smiling. She nodded once at her. Then, Kerrigan stepped back and took Darby’s hand. Neither of her friends said a word. In fact, no one else said anything.
Then, a dragon blew hot fire onto the pyre, and Lyam went up in flames.
Dragon flames were supposed to be the ultimate honor. A sign of great respect for the deceased. Lyam would have wanted dragon fire. He’d loved riding almost as much as she did. But it was too little, too late.
They stood together for a long time as the flames licked at the wood, burning it low. Darby huddled between Kerrigan and Hadrian. Clover came around the pyre and rested her head on Hadrian’s shoulder. His arm slung around her to bring her in close to the group. Everyone else left in waves until just the four of them remained.
None of them had to say that they wanted to stay through the night. That they wanted to hold vigil for the loss of their friend. They just clustered together and watched the flames burn and burn and burn.
It was hours before Darby finally sank down into the dirt, heedless of the layers of her midnight dress.
“Darbs?” Kerrigan asked gently.
“I can’t do it anymore,” she said, brushing furiously at her wet cheeks. “I can’t keep crying. I’ve cried buckets the last four days. And I’m going to cry more buckets, but I just don’t want to be sad right now.”
Hadrian sank down next to her. “I know what you mean. Lyam was always so… happy.”
“He was a nuisance,” Darby said around a hiccup. “There wasn’t trouble he couldn’t get into.”
Kerrigan glanced at Clover, who tipped her head to the ground. The two of them sat, too, forming a small circle with Darby and Hadrian before Lyam’s funeral pyre. The sun had already sunk so low, brushing a burnished glow across the horizon.
“And you!” Darby said, thrusting her finger in Kerrigan’s direction. “You were just as bad.”
“Still am,” Kerrigan said softly.
“Because you don’t think this was an accident,” Hadrian said.
Kerrigan slowly shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
“I liked your speech,” Clover said with an arched eyebrow.
“Well, that makes one of you,” Kerrigan said.
“What you said was true,” Hadrian said.
Clover gasped next to him and nudged his shoulder. “Finally going to admit where you come from, sweetheart?”
He glared at her. Momentarily forgetting where they were with her chiding. “I don’t forget where I came from, but I was given the opportunity to rise above my station—”
Clover held up her hand. “I read the brochure.”
“Stop,” Darby snapped, uncharacteristically peevish.
Hadrian and Clover’s bickering died off immediately with murmured apologies.
“Why don’t you think it was an accident? Because he followed you?” Darby asked. “He’s followed you a hundred times and never been murdered.”
Kerrigan wished that she could explain it. But none of her friends knew about her visions. Only Lyam had known… and he was dead.
“I have a feeling,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t know how else to explain it. It feels wrong. The whole thing feels like a lie. Lyam wasn’t stupid enough to be caught by a robber in the Dregs.”
“I wish there were a way to prove it one way or another,” Darby said with a sigh.
Kerrigan wished that too, but she didn’t see how it was possible. All she had was a hunch, and that wasn’t enough for anyone.
* * *
By the time the flames were nearly guttered out, Darby had fallen asleep with her head in Clover’s lap. Clover was leaning back against Hadrian, as if she belonged there, both of them barely keeping their eyes open.
“Come on,” Kerrigan said softly. “Let’s get some sleep.”
Hadrian gently shook Darby awake. She yawned dramatically and then slowly came to her feet with the others. As a unit, they trudged back to the mountain. Hadrian and Darby had stayed at the mountain the last couple of nights instead of moving in with Fallon and Sonali right away, but Kerrigan knew that wouldn’t last. That she wouldn’t have them to lean on forever.
“Take my bed,” Kerrigan told Clover.
“You sure?” she asked around a yawn.
“Yeah, I’m still not tired.”
“You look tired.”
Kerrigan laughed once. “Yeah. I can’t shut my brain off, I guess.”
“Okay. Well, be careful. I want to think that it’s just an accident, but if it’s not, Red…”
“I know,” she whispered. “I won’t leave.”
Kerrigan didn’t have anywhere to be or anything to do. She just had restless energy deep in her bones that she couldn’t possibly shake. As if it was building—something was building inside of her. Not like her visions, which usually felt immediate, as if right that second, it was going to take her over.
She was just… edgy. And she didn’t know how to not be.
So, she walked.
Her feet carried her aimlessly throughout the darkened halls of the mountain. Past barely lit ornate tapestries, ancient metal fighting gear, through the peacefully slumbering dragon chambers, and then to the tournament rooms.
She could lie and say that she didn’t have any hope to find a dark-haired boy with gray eyes, but it was just a lie. They were connected, and something told her that he couldn’t sleep either.
She would be lying again to say she felt no joy at finding out that she was right. Fordham was seated at
