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I nod. “I’m fine. It just... tried to pull me in. Into the water.”

“She’s burned,” Azrael says flatly.

And only then do I remember the crystals. I hold out the hand that tried to grab the fluorite. There is indeed a burn there.

Jacob sets about to healing, and I would try to speak, try to understand what has happened, but a crowd has appeared. Madeup of witches—Joywood and Riverwood supporters alike—who live in St. Cyprian and must have heard the commotion.

And who are now staring at Azrael,full-ondragon Azrael, with a mix of awe, shock, and fear. Mostly fear.

This isn’t the worst thing in the world, I tell myself. It’s fine. It’s just a dragon. We all wield magic, and a dragon isjust a step away from that.

Everything is okay, I tell myself.

Until the Joywood charge through the middle of the crowd, right at us.

18

Azrael.

He looks over at me. There is a kind of resigned fury in his gaze. As if he knew this would happen, and more, that there isno stopping this moment.

As if we have lived this life before.

And there is only ruin ahead.

My heart plummets, hard and fast. I don’t believe it. Iwon’tbelieve it, and yet my emotions don’t seem to get that message.

Maybe the giant fire-breathing dragon could change back into a regular guy to seem less alarming to the crowd who thoughtdragons were extinct, Zander suggests in all our heads.

Azrael fixes him with a glare that would have most witches shaking in their boots, but he also changes. Right there in frontof us. With smoke and the rumbling of distant thunder, he shrinks down into his more palatable-for-a-crowd form.

When he’s back to a very large man, but amaninstead of adragon, there’s still a long, ugly gash on his arm.

It hurts me to even look at it. Jacob has healed most of my burns, so I nudge him away and point at Azrael’s arm. “Jacob...”

Jacob nods. He gets to his feet and walks over to Azrael.

“It’s no use,” Azrael growls. “A witch cannot heal a fabulae.”

“Maybe I can’t fix it,” Jacob says evenly. “But let’s see what Icando.”

Please, I send out to Azrael and Azrael alone.

He shoots me a long, dragony look, then gives Jacob a faint nod. But I can’t focus on whether Jacob can actually heal him,because Maeve is screeching as if Azrael is currently chomping on her with his full-size dragon teeth. Their little groupis missing Festus and Felix now, but the rest of the Joywood coven are in the throes of a veritable fit.

“Explain yourselves,” Carol demands, cutting through the screeching. Her eyes are bright, and compared to Maeve and Felicia,she’s downright glowing.

“What would you like us to explain, Carol?” Frost asks her in frigid tones. “It seems one of our coven was once again attacked,and the sort of dragon you have taught your people doesn’t exist saved her. Imagine that.”

“Dragons aredangerous!” Gil shouts. His arm is hanging at an odd angle, like it’s fallen out of its socket. One ear is much lower on his face thanthe other. “Everyone knows this!”

Which is funny, because how could anyone know it when we were all taught they went extinct centuries ago?

“Howdareyou hide such an unpredictable monster from us,” Carol says, and she almost can’t hide the utter glee in her expression asshe makes sure her voice carries to every last witch standing here on the riverbank. “This is not theRiverwood waywe were promised.”

We were hiding Azrael from the Joywood, specifically—not witchdom as a whole—but I don’t think there’s any point in mentioningthat.

“Dragons aren’t dangerous,” I reply instead. Ellowyn and Rebekah are on either side of me now, acting like they’re ready to hold me up at a moment’s notice. I can tell the whole covenis worried about me, but I feel fine. I’m mostly just filled with fury and anger that Carol is trying to warp an attack onmeinto an example of bad behavior byus.