“I know what he is,” I retorted. “And I’m not going to let you do this.” Planting my claws, I stayed where I was. “He helped us, Cobalt.

He drove off the Viper. Lilith would’ve killed us both.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Aghast, he stared at me, confusion and disgust written over his reptilian face. “He’s still part of the Order. He’s killed dozens of our kind! The only reason he’s not trying to murder us now is that we outnumber him.” I stubbornly set my jaw, and Cobalt snarled impatiently. “You think he would’ve spared us tonight?

If those alarms hadn’t gone off, they would’ve slaughtered us. You, me, the hatchlings, Wes—they would’ve killed us all.”

“So we’re going to kill him in cold blood now? How does that make us any different?”

“Dammit, Ember!” He started toward me, but I bared my fangs at him and hissed, making him stop. I wasn’t screwing around. I was not going to let Cobalt kill Garret, even if he was St. George. He’d saved our lives. Why, I had no idea. He knew I was a dragon. He knew St. George tried to kill us tonight; hell, maybe he’d been there, too.

But he wasn’t firing on us now. He’d helped drive off Talon’s notorious Viper assassin. And when I spared a glance at him, the human standing quietly on the beach was a different person than the soldier I’d faced earlier tonight.

We were enemies. I knew that. But I couldn’t let Cobalt attack him now. There had been far too much fighting and blood already.

I’d had enough.

“Ember.”

Garret’s voice, low and grim, echoed at my back. I glanced over my shoulder to find him watching us, a grave look on his face. From the faint crease of his brow, he hadn’t understood the snarled, hissed conversation between two dragons, but he’d probably gotten the gist of it.

I wanted to talk to him, but not like this. Not as lifelong enemies, dragon to St. George. Turning slowly, keeping my movements calm and unthreatening, I Shifted back, hearing Cobalt’s warning growl echo behind me. But as I shrank down, my human form kneeling in the sand between the soldier and the dragon, Garret stepped forward, earning a hiss from Cobalt.

“Don’t,” he said urgently, and I glanced up at him, puzzled. “Don’t change back, Ember, there’s no time. You have to leave, now.” He shot a wary look back at the cliffs, at the path he’d come in. “St. George, the rest of my team, is on their way. You should go.”

I blinked, but Cobalt gave a snarled curse and backed away. “I knew it,” he hissed with a furious look at Garret. “I knew we shouldn’t trust him. Come on, Firebrand. Before they get here and start shooting anything that moves.” Whirling, he bounded toward the cave, his lithe body flying over the sand, moving like a huge scaly cat. But I hesitated, looking back at the soldier.

“Why?” I asked, needing to know. “Why did you save us? Did St.

George send you? Or was this just to repay me for earlier? Clear your conscience before you start shooting us again?”

“No.” He quickly shook his head. “Never again. I…” He broke off, raking a hand through his hair, before looking up. His gray eyes were haunted as they met mine. “I’m done,” he said firmly. “No more missions. No more raids or strikes or killings. No more deaths. I’m not hunting your people anymore.”

Stunned, I could only stare at him. “Really?”

He didn’t smile, but his eyes softened a touch as he gazed at me.

“How could I,” he almost whispered, “after I met you?”

A lump rose to my throat, and I swallowed hard. “What about St. George?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice was resigned now, weary. “I can’t follow their beliefs, and I can’t condone what we’ve done. I knew what I was doing when I came here tonight.” For a moment, his expression clouded with what might’ve been fear, before he shook himself with a deep, steadying breath. “I knew the consequences. I would do it again if I had to.”

“Ember!” Cobalt’s impatient voice rang over the sand. I looked back to see him at the edge of the water, wings half-open and ready to go. Behind him, a whip-thin black dragon and a smaller male with dusty brown scales bounded toward him from the cave. Nettle and Remy in their true forms, staring at me wide eyed. “What are you waiting for? Come on!”

“Go,” Garret said, nodding toward the other dragons. “Forget about me. I’m already dead. Just go.”

“Garret…”

A shout echoed from the other direction, and we turned. Figures spilled onto the beach from between the cliffs, guns leading the way as they came toward us in a black swarm. I cringed, and Garret spun back, eyes narrowed.

“Ember, go! Now!”

I bit my lip, turned, and sprinted away, seeing Nettle and Remy already taking flight, rising into the air. Cobalt waited for me, holding his ground, even as the first shots rang out behind me. Shifting mid-stride, I hit the ground running, already pumping my wings as I launched myself skyward, seeing Cobalt do the same. As we soared up the cliff wall, bullets zipped by me, sparking off the rocks, and there was a stab of pain as something punched a hole through my wingtip, making me falter in midair. I hissed in fear, beating my wings and scrabbling my claws down the rock face, expecting a bullet in the spine at any moment.

Cobalt soared over the top of the cliff, landed, and spun back, peeking over the edge even through the bullet storm around us. Shots echoed around me, sparking off rock and sending jagged chips and dust into the air. With a defiant snarl, I gave my wings a final thrust and half flew, half clawed myself over the edge. Staggering several feet from the drop off, finally clear of St. George and their deadly weapons, I collapsed to the dusty ground.

“Ember.” Cobalt’s gold eyes peered down at me, worried and anxious. From where I lay, panting, his horns and wings seemed to frame the moon, and the light shimmered off his metallic blue scales. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was living through yet another near death experience, but I decided I preferred his real form far more than his human one. I wished he could stay in this body forever.

“Ember,” he said again, his tail thumping a panicked rhythm in the dirt. “Are you hurt? Did they hit you?” He nudged me, anxious yet gentle. “Talk to me, Firebrand.”

“I’m fine,” I rasped out, and struggled to my feet. My right wing, down near the last finger joint, throbbed where the bullets had torn through the membrane, but it wasn’t serious. I stretched it out, gave it a couple flaps to make sure it still worked, and folded it to my back again. “Looks like I’m still in one piece.”