“I’m not.” The strings are louder than his voice, as though the instrument can speak for him. The notes of an Aquitan hymn . . . the song he’d played the night he shot Xavier. “But there was no other way to stop them.”
“Of course you tell yourself that,” Theodora replies stiffly. “Otherwise the guilt would eat you alive.”
“Guilty? Me? No,” Leo says with a bitter twist of his lips. “I’ve never killed an innocent man.”
Theodora’s face goes pale, but before she can object, Camreon clears his throat. He stands in the hall just outside the greatroom, as though the tension between Le Fleur and her brother was thick enough to bar the way. But Theodora turns back to the papers on the desk, her cheeks bright pink, while Leo keeps plucking the strings. As Camreon steps into the room on silent feet, he turns to me. “You’re awake.”
“I’m not, actually,” I reply, bracing myself for a lecture. “I’m just a very good actor.”
“A terrible rebel, though.” To my surprise, a smile quirks his lips. “Luckily, it looks like all our casualties will survive.”
“The dragon?” I say quickly, and he nods.
“Dragon bone is remarkably strong,” he says mildly. Automatically, I glance to his brow, where the crown had rested, but he has laid it aside for now. While the coronation clearly needed a king, a rescue mission was best suited to the Tiger. “The skeleton is a little singed, but still sound.”
The relief that washes over me is more powerful than I’d expected—I’d grown rather fond of the dragon in the last few weeks. “Do you need me to ensoul her again?” I ask, but Camreon shakes his head.
“It’s already taken care of.”
“You used my blood?”
“You left plenty of it lying around,” he says, pulling something long and slim out of his pocket. “Besides, I didn’t want the dragon’s soul straying too far. I didn’t know how long you’d be asleep.”
My brow furrows. “Is that a fountain pen?”
“Not my finest inventions,” Theodora says critically, holding out a second pen with a flourish: a slender bit of brass, with a nib on one end and a point on the other. Craning my neck, I can see the inkwell among the papers on the desk, and the blotter stained in black and muddy red. “But they might be my most powerful. There’s enough blood in both of them for two or three fantouches.”
My hand goes to the tiny scar in the crook of my arm, where an armée docteur let my blood into a jar. A queasy feeling spreads in my stomach. But this is not the armée—these are my friends. “It should come in handy,” I say at last.
“It should,” Cam agrees, tucking his own pen back into his pocket. “Considering we won’t have you with us.”
I stiffen. “What?”
“Leo and I will be taking the dragon back to Malao to gather the others for our trip to the capital. You and Theodora will take the avion to the lytheum mine.” Camreon gives me a wry look, but I turn instead to the painting of Les Chanceux. The languid women stare back, uncaring. My mind reels. How can my friends go without me? They need me—and I need them.
“Leo,” I say. He has always been my staunchest ally. “I thought you promised to look out for me.”
To my great annoyance, he grins. “And you promised to meet me at the avion, but here we are.”
“Leo!”
“Jetta.” Putting his violin back in the case, he comes to my side, pushing my hair back from my forehead. His hands are so cool on my skin. “It may not feel like it, but I am looking out for you. You need your elixir, and you’re safer out of the fight. Besides, this way your song will be a surprise.”
My brow furrows. “My song?”
“You’ve heard me working on it, haven’t you?” He nods toward his violin, and I can almost hear the notes echoing in my head, the gentle falling melody he’s been picking out. Then he squeezes my fingers. “So far I’ve had my hands a little too full to finish.”
I raise a skeptical eyebrow. “You think you’ll have time between freeing the Aquitans and helping Cam seize the throne?”
“I’ll make time, I promise. The next time you see me, it will be finished,” he says. “If you promise to find your elixir.”
I chew my lip, but I don’t have much choice. “I promise,” I say at last, and he smiles.
“Bien.” He squeezes my hand once more, then stands. “Akra will be coming with us, so we can keep in touch through him.”
“Have him check in regularly, Leonin,” Theodora says. “You know that Jetta can’t call to him unless he’s listening. And if you find Xavier . . .” As she trails off, Leo braces himself, but after a moment, she holds out the second pen. “You know what to do.”
With his free hand, he takes the pen, emotions flickering across his face. “Theod—”
“Take care of yourself, Leonin,” she says, turning abruptly toward the door. “Come, Cam. I’ll walk you to the avion. While you were working on the dragon, I was reading Audrinne’s old reports. . . .”
As they disappear down the hall, Leo watches after his sister, trouble brewing in his dark eyes. It pulls at my heart—he’d had to kill his brother to save his people. It wasn’t fair he might lose his sister too. “Are you all right, Leo?”
My question seems to startle him. He looks down at me, trying to smile, but I can see the pain behind it. “You don’t have to take care of me, Jetta,” he teases, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Do I at least get a goodbye kiss?” I ask him, and his smile turns real.
“Never goodbye,” he says, leaning down to grant my request. The kiss is soft—almost careful. But then he buries his face in my hair, pressing his heart to mine as
