Page 47 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
“Only magical creatures can move it, wield it,” Azrael tells me. “Magical creatures, and those witches who are given specificpermission to carry such an honor.”
I manage to tear my gaze from the horn, to meet his golden, gleaming stare. My hands itch to touch, I want tobeghim to give me permission, but...
“Emerson, obviously, should—”
But he’s shaking his head. “Georgina, it’s you.”
I swallow at the sudden lump in my throat. At the weight of the responsibility he’s just laid across my shoulders. It’s not thatI don’t want it, but it feels overwhelming for a minute. Like Felicia said, Iamthe star of the show tonight. This is about archives, and a Historian has to be a good, intuitive researcher to track downthe keys at all.
Tonight is my domain.
And tonight is why the Joywood never had to target me the way they did my friends. There was never any need. They knew thisceremony was a fail-safe. Without a magical creature—or the knowledge that magical creatures were real and some had left artifactsbehind in anticipation of their approaching deaths—they didn’t have to come after me.
All they had to do was wait for me to fail tonight, and better yet, have no idea why—because they hid their tracks long ago.
But I’m not going to fail now, thanks to this artifact.
Thanks to Azrael.
“How do I ask for permission?”
“You do not have to ask,” he says, his voice strangely husky.
He holds out the glass case to me, his gaze never leaving mine. I have to take a deep breath to steady my shaking hands. ThenI reach out to take it from him.
For a moment, we’re both holding it. I can feel magic pulsing around us. His. The unicorn’s. Mine.
Inside me. Outside me.
If there’s a song at the confluence, I can’t hear it.
For a moment, it’s just us.
A melody I know as well as my own heart, my own breath.
Then Azrael releases the case, and it’s in my hands alone. I have to work to steady my breath. To do something about my heartrate.
“Send it to wherever you’re keeping the keys,” Azrael instructs me. “You won’t reveal it until right before you start theritual.”
I nod. I’m feeling more... fragile. Like one wrong move won’t just ruin everything, but will shatter the amazing magicI’ve been trusted with.
And I’m not sure which one would devastate me more.
Still, I close my eyes. I center my magic. And then I send the horn to stay with the keys until it’s time.
When I open my eyes, Azrael is staring at me. The intensity isn’t new. I’ve caught him staring at me like that before. It’smore that I’m having a harder and harder time convincing myself it doesn’t mean... exactly what I feel like it means.
What I’m no longer so sure I want to pretend I don’t know it means.
Inside, I am nothing but longing and fire andfate. That same sense that my life was leading me straight here, to him, all along. That everything about this is inevitable.That the only reason he is not rushing in is that he already knows where we’re going.
Even a few days ago, that made me feel uncertain, but it doesn’t tonight.
It feels like confirmation.
“There’s not much time left of this ball,” Azrael says, and I’m not sure he’s ever sounded so calmly serious. Like every movewe make is weighty. “Let’s go back in.”
I nod again. Finding my voice seems impossible. So we walk back inside together.
