Page 119 of Blood of the Stars

“So we debrand him instead? Remove his collar?” Every one of her limbs felt lighter.

Sylmar sighed. “For now. To weaken him. And we tie him up for the remainder of the night. Tomorrow we try again. He’s too powerful a weapon to give back to Mayvus.”

Aeliana frowned, but she couldn’t argue. The men went to work tying Durriken’s paws and snout. His wings remained shredded, but Aeliana noticed several areas had begun to heal. Perhaps it was another form of the dragon’s magic. Once he was secured, Jasperus and Holm stepped forward and began slicing at the mark on Durriken’s paw. Its shape was uncomfortably similar to Aeliana’s bond mark but far larger and raised like a black blister, taking up a quarter of the dragon’s paw.

Despite being unconscious, the beast groaned, pulling his paws from their grip. As the men’s agitation grew, so did Durriken’s.

“Stop,” Aeliana hissed.

Jasperus and Holm froze just as Durriken’s eyelids rolled open, revealing large purple irises with a cat-like gleam. Durriken reared back, attempting to open his mouth with a roar. It provided the men enough time to scramble away, but Durriken quickly snapped apart the ropes holding his snout, the frayed blackened edges making all their ties laughable.

He didn’t bother with the ropes around his paws. His eyes followed Aeliana as she stepped forward, shielding the men.

“I have to be the one to do it. He won’t hurt me. I don’t think he can.” She glanced back to find Gaeren once again on her heel. Before he could argue, she snatched the dagger from his hand, then took three tentative steps forward, ignoring Lukai’s—and maybe Gaeren’s—hushed protests.

Durriken shifted, eyeing the dagger warily.

“You want to be free of Mayvus?” Aeliana asked.

The dragon went rigid, his gaze even more intense.

“Should I remove the brand or the collar first?”

He cocked his head. Had he understood? His paw remained face up, bleeding from where Holm and Jasperus had started working. Aeliana shivered at the sight. Would his blood tempt her as much as a half-light’s? Would it tempt her more? Still, she pressed on until she was close enough to touch the dragon.

“Brand?” She gestured at his paw. “Or collar?” She moved her other hand within biting distance of his snout.

Whether he understood or not, he shifted on his side, lying back down, eyes still studying her. He settled his bound paws back in front of her, then closed his eyes. The vulnerability of the action made her throat clog with sympathy. How could Sylmar think Durriken wanted anything other than his freedom?

She held the dagger over the dragon’s paw, inhaling the stench of his blood. The headiness of it made her grasp his paw to steady herself, and she sensed him tense beneath her. As she began gently carving the brand out from the creature’s paw, he squirmed and flinched, letting out the occasional growl or moan as he tried to pull away. A few times he snapped his jaws as if he might stop her, but Aeliana suspected that whatever compelled him to keep her alive was stronger than whatever compelled him to fight her efforts to remove his brand.

As she worked, the clouds rolled back, revealing the waning moon, which shed light on Durriken’s paw as Aeliana worked. The Stars did their dance, as if celebrating this turn of events. Eventually, the branded skin lay flayed at her feet. She placed her hands over the wound, squirming at the sticky sensation of raw flesh and blood. Durriken inhaled sharply, and Aeliana braced herself for the expected fire from his breath. When it didn’t come, she refocused, attempting to draw energy from her starlock.

The starlock remained cold against her chest, having had no opportunity to recharge since she’d used it. For the first time, the lack of magic frightened her. She’d grown used to it.

“My magic,” she said. “It’s gone. I’m sorry.”

Durriken cocked his head, then tensed along with Aeliana as Gaeren placed a hand on her shoulder. Warmth rushed through her, and for the first time she experience the sensation of being on the receiving end of someone’s energy. It felt oddly comforting, and a small part of her wished it had come from Lukai, or really anyone, instead of Gaeren.

In turn, she pushed the energy out through her hands, weaving and stitching Durriken’s skin together, growing it until the stickiness underneath her hands was more scab and scars than open wound.

His blood called to her, but not in the same way a half-light’s did. She suspected she could use it, but it was easier to resist.

Gaeren stepped back when the job was done, but Aeliana stayed, relishing the vulnerability of her hand on Durriken’s paw.

Healing him, her supposed enemy, was like a balm for her soul. She’d come across the barrier wanting to be rid of magic. Because of that single-mindedness, she’d held back, just like Sylmar said. Now it seemed impossible to separate the magic from who she was, from who she was becoming. And for the first time, she didn’t want to separate the two. She didn’t want to hold back. Even saving her mother and returning Cyrus to Lorvandas felt small in this moment. She could do so much more with her magic if she let herself try.

Healing Durriken was more than putting together skin and flesh. The wounds went far deeper, and so did her magic. She had the potential to heal wounds, bond rifts, or reconcile broken relationships. And she was doing it without using blood.

“How much more could I do if I lean into my magic?” she whispered, grateful only Durriken could hear. She shivered at both the thrill and fear of the answer, and her starlock warmed against her skin in its own encouraging way.

When Durriken’s breath finally came, it was warm and soft, tickling her neck as it blew her hair out around her.

“That’s enough, Aeliana,” Sylmar hissed. “We can finish tomorrow.”

She stepped forward, ignoring Sylmar. She placed a hand on Durriken’s snout, and the same memories that she had seen earlier flooded her mind. Sylmar’s idea of finishing would be to take the dragon’s life—remove him as a threat. But Durriken was no more a willing murderer than she had been.

“We can fix this,” she murmured. When she brushed Durriken’s collar with her hand, the cold metal shocked her, but she kept running her hands along what felt like ice until she reached the clasp. It took several tries to find the right place to press and release it, but when she did, Durriken let out a small moan of relief.

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