Kohen wasn’t usually an idiot. He felt like one right now, though.

  When Ahryn had started yelling about following a carriage and the dragonlings being kidnapped, he should have run to get their father. Their grandmother. Someone.

  But it had sounded like his chance. A way to stand out. To distinguish himself above and beyond Alyx or Fioreya. Who cared if you had major blessings or were the Champion of a god when he single-handedly saved the dragonlings?

  So, like an idiot, he’d followed Ahryn, the two of them sprinting after a carriage all the way to the Temple. Like an idiot, he’d broken in.

  Like an idiot, he’d been caught.

  It wasn’t until they were inside the building that they’d gotten a look at the forces that had taken the dragonlings. In retrospect, he should have known. Who else would be so brazen as to kidnap dragons in Vaisom?

  Only the vile Order of Copper Crescent would try it.

  He didn’t blame himself for that one entirely. Many people had underestimated the Order for it to get to this point. If anyone had thought they were still a threat, the dragonlings wouldn’t have been kidnapped in the first place.

  But he still should have known they’d be proper combatants. They were all over level 30. Several over 35. Not new warriors at all.

  A bitter voice in the corner of his soul whispered that Fioreya would have been able to handle them. She could have handled them even without the goddess’s blessing.

  But he couldn’t. He wasn’t that good. He and Ahryn had put up a decent fight. As good a fight as they were able. But what could he really expect? It was just the two of them, and one of them was Ahryn. Did he need to say more?

  They’d been captured. A minor miracle, he supposed. By all rights, they should be dead. Instead, they were sacrifices to Fortitude, according to the paladin behind them.

  He and Ahryn were being marched through the halls of the Order’s hideout. He couldn’t believe they had a base in the Temple. When his grandmother found out, there would be blood.

  His blood might already be emptied at Fortitude’s altar before she found out, though.

  Ahryn swayed on his feet. He’d spent everything trying to get to the dragonlings. The boy looked like he’d fall over any moment.

  Kohen moved closer to his brother, his elbow sticking out a hair further.

  He wouldn’t offer the arm for support—that would hurt both their prides—but if Ahryn took it, he wasn’t about the shake a sick person off him.

  Ahryn stumbled, bumping against Kohen. His arm laced into the open crook in Kohen’s as he caught himself, his weight leaning into Kohen’s shoulder.

  Kohen pretended not to notice. Instead, he watched their surroundings, memorizing the turns of the halls. They were surrounded, Copper Crescent Paladins guarded them. Walking ahead of him were the two dragonlings, cowed into obedience by the threat of violence.

  Three more paladins met them at the border of Fortitude’s halls, where Alacrity’s blue glass transitioned to Fortitude’s green. They smelled of smoke and their tabards had scorch marks along their edges.

  In the distance, there was a clamor. Indistinct shouting. Bursts of mana and aura. The roar of a beast.

  What was happening down here?

  Without ceremony, they were marched into the order’s private cathedral. A statue of Fortitude stood tall at the far end of the room. The dragonlings were corralled into a magic circle on one side while he and Ahryn were marched into another on the other side. An open altar lay in the center, the grooves on its surface equipped with spouts with basins beneath them.

  A pressure descended on them as the paladin powered up the circle. Kohen pressed against it, but it might as have been a stone wall. They were trapped.

  “Stay there,” the paladin ordered. A useless order. Not one he would follow if he had any choice in the matter, but one he had no agency to refuse. “The ceremony will begin soon.”

  “Say, what’s that roaring?” Kohen asked. The halls had been filled with roars since they’d entered the lower levels of the temple.

  The paladin ignored him. Prick.

  “They’re over there,” Ahryn whispered, his voice weak.

  “Just sit down,” Kohen said. There was nothing they could do at this point. Yet he was still looking around the room for some way out. They’d taken their weapons. If they’d damaged his rapier…

  No, he needed to survive to do something about that. And if he survived, it was almost certainly because these paladin wretches were dead.

  “Ahryn,” one of the dragonlings cried from the far side.

  “Emenie!” Ahryn yelled back, pressing himself against the barrier. “Are you okay?”

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  The dragonling shook their head. “I’m scared.”

  “We’ll be okay,” Ahryn said. His voice was strong again. Far stronger than it had any right to be. Who knew he could be such a confident liar? “Help is coming.”

  It wasn’t. But Kohen wasn’t so callous as to say that to children.

  If they were going to get out, it depended on him. If he could find a way.

  What did he have?

  They’d taken his obvious weapons, but they hadn’t searched them closely. He was a little insulted by how little care they had put into his capture. That was how much they disregarded him.

  Fine, he’d make them pay for that, too.

  No rapier. No dagger sidearm. Yes dueling glove. A lot of Focus could be channeled through the glove. Anything else?

  No. Not really. Just—

  His hand found the marble in his pocket. A ripple of desire ran down his spine. It promised power. Wordlessly. Implicitly.

  The Academy appraiser hadn’t known what to do with it. But he did. If he dared.

  The huge tauran man stormed into the chapel. He wore an unmistakably frustrated expression.

  “Sir, these are the intruders,” the paladin guarding them reported.

  The tauran grunted. “Veldor brats. Fractured by the look of them. Fine. We’ll take it. We begin the rite now.”

  The paladin flinched. “Have we captured the other two?”

  The roar of a dragon was all the answer the paladin got.

  “Go get the rest of the priests,” the tauran ordered instead.

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Useless, I swear,” the tauran muttered.

  “What’s all the fuss?” Kohen asked, leaning casually against the invisible wall of his cell.

  The tauran glared at him. Kohen met his gaze. This man was level 40, Identify told him. This man could snap him like a twig, his every instinct screamed.

  Kohen wasn’t an idiot. But he was proud.

  He met that man’s glare. To look away now was to admit defeat. His spirit quaked under the tauran’s pressure. But he held his body still.

  Lightning buzzed within. His Concept demanded he strike. Demanded he not bow. Demanded he win.

  The tauran snorted. “Brat. What’s it to you? You’ll be dead in a minute.”

  “Then there’s no harm in telling me,” Kohen said, coloring his words with Noble Suggestion while still meeting the man’s eyes.

  The tauran shook his head and walked away. “Dragon rampaging through our sacred halls and a fool of a demon girl slipping through my useless men’s hands. That settle your curiosity?”

  Dragons and demons? What was happening down here?

  Before he could find an answer, a gaggle of green-robed priests entered the room.

  “Lord Talus, I was told you wished to start the rite?” the female priest at the front of the group said. “I notice that the guest of honor has not been collected.”

  The tauran snorted. “You want to drag the dragon in here? Be my guest. My men are working on it. We have some appetizers for the Goddess. I figured we could just get them out of the way before something else happens tonight.” He shot her a disapproving look and added, “It’s not like your priests got very far with that third containment circle, anyway. Or did you want me to hold the dragon by its neck for you while you carved it up?”

  She stuck her nose up. “If you had just caught the demoness promptly, or better yet, guarded her containment properly so she did not escape, perhaps my priests needn’t have spent so much time investigating how she got out and would have finished the circle.”

  “Maybe if your priests hadn’t set up a faulty circle to hold her, none of this would have been necessary,” the tauran shot back.

  “Nothing was wrong with the circle. And if you had just accepted that assessment hours ago, we would have the additional containment in place now.”

  The tauran glowered down at her. For her part, she held his stare with a glare of her own.

  “Start the rite,” he growled.

  “As you say, Lord,” the woman said. She bowed her head, but there was no respect in her voice.

  She snapped and the room was dropped into darkness. Not even the lights of the magic circles still glowed.

  Kohen pressed against the barrier, hoping that it had disappeared with the lights. It had not. Hardly a surprise, but no more welcome for it.

  There was another snap and the light went back on over the altar. The woman and two of her fellows stood around it, their heads bowed. Her voice filled the room, though she did not appear to move even her lips. “Tonight, the Copper Crescent rises over our great Isle. We, your true faithful, dedicate this night to your solidity.”

  Another priest appeared at her side. He held a basket. It was turned out onto the altar. A tortoise tumbled out.

  The priestess had a knife. It was long, with a deep belly and a green inlay along the spine. The blade sliced easily along the animal’s neck, its blood pouring onto the altar and running through the grooves into the waiting basins.

  The woman continued her speech, claiming the night and the moon and more in the name of virtues of Fortitude.

  In the distance, the dragon’s roar continued.

  “Please,” Ahryn muttered to no one and nothing. “Please hurry.”

  No one was coming.

  No one would protect them. It was up to Kohen. That was his job. As heir. As older brother.

  His hand turned the marble in his pocket.

  Another snap. The lights went out. Ahryn shouted. Kohen’s stomach flipped. Lightning coursed through his veins.

  The lights went on. Priests held Ahryn down on the bloody altar. His white clothes were already splashed with the blood of the previous sacrifices.

  The woman was speaking, but the words washed over Kohen without meaning. His eyes didn’t leave the dagger in her hand. It shone, its edge red and wet.

  No.

  She held it against Ahryn’s neck as she spoke.

  No.

  His hand clenched around the marble.

  No.

  There would be consequences. He knew that even as he drew the marble from his pocket. He could feel it as certain as he could feel that there would be power.

  The only consequence that mattered right now was Ahryn. Everything else was secondary.

  The dragons. Their father. The city.

  All that could burn as long as Ahryn was safe. Everything else could come later.

  The marble slipped past his lips. He swallowed.

  Blood beaded along the blade.

  The marble exploded inside him. Power coursed up and down his body. There was light. Lightning arched off him in every direction. Force pounded against the walls of his confinement. His flesh twisted and bulged. Uncontrolled potential rolled through him, devouring him in turn.

  And then everything cracked.