Page 46 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
Instead, he looks darker than I’ve ever seen him. “I should have known it was all an act. At heart, you’re nothing but a dumb,dirty—”
Azrael leans forward. Sage scrambles back.
“Think very carefully what word you want to use in front of me, friend,” Azrael says, all dragon and warning. But also withhis British accent, I’ll give him that.
Sage lifts his chin, but it’s not really the show of courage or defiance I know he imagines it is, because he’s backing towardthe door that leads inside. “I’m not your friend.”
“In what universe would you imagine you could be?” Azrael asks, laughing in a way that raises the hair on the back of my neck.
Then he lifts an eyebrow, that’s all—and Sage practically falls all over himself to scramble inside.
It would be incredibly satisfying to let Azrael play with him a little, but that’s unworthy of me. Or so I tell myself. AndI almost mention it, but I hear that song from the river again, faintly.
I turn my head, straining to hear it.
“What are you doing?” Azrael demands, scowling down at me.
“Nothing.” I’m looking out at the confluence, like maybe I canseethe song if I look hard enough. “I came out for some fresh air, and there was Sage. You know the rest.”
Whatisthat melody? I swear I’ve heard it before. I know I have. I can almost hum it—
“What crystals are you wearing?” Azrael demands, sounding angry.
I pull my attention away from the song. I put my hand to my necklace. “The ones you gave me.”
“No others?”
I pat the pocket in my dress. “A few others.”
“Which ones?”
“For the ceremony tonight. Smoky quartz, malachite, sodalite. The usual.”
His scowl only deepens. “You need a better anchor.” He glances out at the river, but only for a second. “You need to carrysomething for protection.”
“Against Sage?” I laugh. “I enjoyed watching you step in and all, but I could have handled him if I’d needed to. He’s notcomplicated. Trust me.”
He says nothing, but he’s glaring at me, and I don’t understand why.
“Did you get the artifact?” I ask, worried that somethingwent wrong there and that’s why he’s so upset. He can’t really be mad I stopped him frommurder. Can he?
“I got it,” he says, but darkly.
I’m going to ask him why he’s still so grumpy then, but he produces a long, slim box made of glass. Inside is a golden horn.
Everything else in my head simply evaporates as I stare at it.
It’s real. I can tell it’sreal.
“A unicorn horn,” I say on an exhale, mesmerized by the way the moonlight catches all that gold, which should seem unnaturalbut doesn’t. “I can...feelit.” It’s not like Azrael’s magic, dark and smoky. It’s like a prism, and it hums around the box in a kaleidoscope of magic.
I look up at Azrael, excitement making me want to laugh or dance.We did it.But thewehas me thinking of the coven, and remembering...
“This isn’t the unicorn Frost...maybe...” I can’t say it.
Azrael sighs deeply. “Of course not. The artifacts are not made from mutilated, murdered fabulae. That could only be darkblood magic. These artifacts only retain their magic if they’re given of a creature’s free will. Usually toward the end oftheir lives. That’s why there are so few of them. Don’t you think the Joywood would have a trove of them otherwise?”
I want to reach out and touch it, but the glass is protecting it, and more, I can feel the spells keeping watch over it too.
