“No. Not just because of her. It’s more than that.” I looked away for a second as memories crowded in. The teachings of St. George, the missions of death and slaughter, the rigid Code that could not be broken. “The Order can’t go on like this,” I said, glancing back at the rogue. “Something has to change. For hundreds of years, we’ve waged war and hunted and killed without a thought, when we should have been questioning everything.”

“Yeah, well...” Riley shook his head, his expression curling with disgust, not directed at me this time. “Talon isn’t exactly the most upstanding and righteous organization, either. And the Order of St. George isn’t the only one mired in tradition. If you’re talking about change, you’ve got a massive battle ahead. I’ve seen Talon, what they’re really like. And you know your own Order, better than anyone. They’re giants, St. George, and we’re insects, just trying to stay alive. What chance do we have of them even seeing us?”

“It has to start somewhere,” I replied, knowing I was repeating myself and not caring. One step in the right direction. One conversation between a dragon and a soldier, instead of a massacre. “Ember began this the night she chose to spare a soldier of St. George,” I went on. “I have to continue it. Even if I die, it will get the Order thinking. And maybe more will start to question things, see the war in a different light. It won’t be all at once, and it might take a long time. But we have to try. Otherwise, this fighting and killing will never be over.”

Riley sighed. “You know, it would be so much easier to kill you,” he said, and shoved himself off the wall, making me tense. “But then you go spouting that noble crap and actually making sense, and I find myself hoping you don’t get yourself shot in the head, after all.” He paused, his gaze conflicted as he stared at me. An echo hovered between us, her name on both our minds, but neither of us would mention it. There was nothing to say.

“I still think you’re crazy,” Riley finally said, stepping back. “But...good luck in there, St. George. You’ll need it. You have far more faith in that human than I ever would.” A smirk curled his mouth as he gave a grudging nod. “You’re not half-bad to have around, for a soldier and a dragonkiller. If you don’t manage to get yourself stabbed in the back, you know where to find us.”

I nodded, watching Riley turn away and slip through the door. “Thanks,” I murmured as it clicked shut behind him, the echo of the unspoken truce hanging in the air as he left. I wondered why he was extending the olive branch now. Maybe he really thought I wasn’t coming back.

I walked down the stairs and found the car Wes had called for me waiting at the sidewalk. It was late evening, the air was cool, and the sun had long since vanished behind the distant mountains. Slipping inside, I gave the driver the address, then stared out the window while my thoughts looped in endless circles. The Order, Talon, Tristan, the Patriarch, Ember.

Strangely enough, though the rest of the night loomed before me like a dark cloud, I was calm. Perhaps it was because I knew I was likely walking to my death. Putting myself in the hands of my former partner and appearing at an assembly of those who’d lived through decades of war with Talon... I didn’t see how I would walk away alive, let alone free. Even if Tristan didn’t turn me in, even if they couldn’t ignore the evidence, I was still their most-wanted criminal, a traitor who had sided with the enemy.

The cab dropped me off on a dark corner, and I followed Tristan’s directions down a narrow alley to the back of an abandoned lot. A single black car, its windows dark and tinted, sat beneath a sputtering streetlamp. Its lights flashed once as I entered the lot, and I headed toward it.

The front door opened, and Tristan stepped out wearing his dress uniform, the black jacket with brass buttons marching down the front, the symbol of the Order on the right shoulder. His face was set, eyes narrowed in the flickering light of the streetlamp as he stepped away from the car and aimed a 9 mm at my chest.

I stopped and raised my hands, wondering for a second if he would shoot me right here. Leave my body in a lonely alley and take the evidence himself, never to been seen by anyone in St. George. The shot never came, though Tristan approached cautiously, his gaze flicking to the shadows behind me, searching for dragons.

“I’m alone, Tristan,” I said as he stopped a few yards away, the gun still trained on my center. I kept my arms raised as he glanced at me warily, gaze searching my waist, my side, anywhere there could be a weapon.

“Are you armed?”