The last thing she saw before she fell was the bright flame of it cleaving through the dark.

He fought like a madman, without a thought for his own safety. If they landed blows, he never felt them. His rage and his fear were beyond pain. There had been three, but if there’d been thirty he still would have cut through them like an avenging god.

His dragon had swept one into the stakes, and now he hacked through the shoulder of another. The arm that fell went to dust, and the creature that was left ran screaming across the field. The third rushed to retreat. Larkin swept up a stake on the run, flung it. And sent it to hell.

With his sword hand ready for however many more might spring out of the dark, he crouched to Blair. The words poured out of him, and were all her name. Her face had no color but the blood that streaked it, and the bruises already going black.

When her eyes fluttered open, he saw they were glassy with pain.

“My hero.” Her voice was barely more than a thick whisper. “Gotta move, gotta go, could be more. Oh God, oh God, I’m hurt. You gotta help me up.”

“Just be still a moment. I need to see how bad it is.”

“It’s bad. Just…is the light coming back or am I heading into that stupid white tunnel people talk about?”

“The sun’s coming back. It’s all right now.”

“Ten, there were ten, and the French whore makes eleven. My head—damn it. Concussion. Vision keeps doubling on me. But—” She couldn’t bite back the scream when he moved her shoulder.

“I’m sorry. A stór, a stór, I’m sorry.”

“Dislocated. Don’t think broken, just out of joint. Oh God. You have to fix it. I can’t…I can’t. You have to take care of it, okay? Then…Jesus, Jesus. Go get a wagon. I can’t ride.”

“You’ll trust me now, won’t you, my darling? Trust me to take care of you now.”

“I do. I will. But I need you to—”

He did it quickly, bracing her back against the tree, pressing his body hard to her as he yanked her shoulder back into place.

She didn’t scream this time. But he was watching her face, and saw her eyes roll up white before she slumped against him.

Ripping the sleeve of his tunic, he used the material to field dress the gash on her thigh before checking along her torso for broken ribs. When he’d done the best he could for her, Larkin laid her down gently before springing up to gather the weapons. After securing them in the harness, he draped it over himself and hoped it would hold.

Shimmered from man to dragon.

He picked her up, cradling her in his claws as if she were made of glass.

“S omething’s wrong.” Glenna gripped Moira’s arm as they stood on the practice field working with a handful of the more promising students. “Something bad, big. Wake Cian. Wake him now.”

They both saw the black boil of the sky to the southeast, and the rippling curtain of darkness that fell from it.

“Larkin. Blair.”

“Get Cian,” Glenna repeated, and began to run.

She didn’t have to shout for Hoyt; he was already sprinting toward her. “Lilith,” was all she said.

“Midir, her wizard.” He took hold of her arm, pulling her toward the castle. “This would be his work.”

“She’s already here. Larkin and Blair are out there, out there in the dark. We need to do something, quickly. Counteract the spell. There must be a way.”

“Riddock should send riders out.”

“They’d never get there in time. It’s miles off, Hoyt.”

“They’ll go in any case.”

When they rushed inside, Cian was already coming down, Moira hard on his heels.

“He was already coming,” Moira said.

“I felt the change. False night. I can get there quicker than you, or any mortal.”

“And what good will it do if the sun comes back?” Moira demanded.

“Time I gave that bloody cloak a try.”

“We don’t separate. We can’t risk it. And sending riders, Hoyt.” Glenna shook her head. “They won’t help now. We need a circle, and a counter spell.” Maybe a miracle, she thought. “We need it fast.”

“It has to be outside, under the sky.” Hoyt looked into his brother’s eyes. “Will you risk it? We can try it without you,” he said before Cian could speak. “The three of us.”

“But the odds are better with me. Let’s get it done.”

They gathered what they needed. Hoyt and Glenna were already outside making hurried preparations when Cian came down again with the cloak.

Moira stepped forward when he got to the base of the stairs. “I think faith in your brother will strengthen the spell.”

“Do you?”

“I think,” she said in the same measured tones, “your willingness to risk so much for friends has already given you protection.”

“We’re about to find out.” He swirled the cloak on, pulled the hood up. “Nothing ventured,” he added. And for the first time in nearly a thousand years stepped into the sun.

There was heat. He felt it weigh down on him—lead heated almost to burning. It pressed on his chest, shortened his breath, but he crossed the courtyard.

“I haven’t turned into a human torch yet,” he said, “but I wouldn’t object if this didn’t take long.”

“Fast as we can,” Glenna told him. “Bright blessings on you, Cian.”

“Let’s keep the bright off it, if it’s all the same.”

“Carnelian for speed.” She began placing crystals in a pentagram pattern on the stones. “Sunstone for light. Agates—dendritic for protection, plume for binding.”

Now she took up herbs, dropping them into a bowl. “Garlic for protection. Sorry,” she said to Cian.

“That’s a myth.”

“Okay, good. Holly, restoration of balance. Rose and willow. Power and love. Join hands. Keep yours inside the cloak, Cian, we’ll come to you.”

“Focus,” Hoyt ordered, with his eyes on the black sky, the bubble of night to the south and east. “Draw out what you have. Both of you have power inside you. Draw it out and forge the circle.”

“Guardians of the Watchtowers,” Glenna called out. “We summon you.”