Steelhands - Jaida Jones [203]
I know that smell, it said, in a woman’s voice that reminded me a bit of Antoinette’s, though it wasn’t exactly the same, either. It was the voice I’d heard during my fever, but a whole lot clearer now, speaking words instead of babbling a whole lot of gibberish. I’ve been waiting for you.
All of a sudden, though I couldn’t’ve said why, I felt like it was drawing nearer. Even though I knew the voice was inside my own noggin, trapped between my ears, I could feel whatever it was coming closer to me over the screech of metal and the sharp scrape of Ironjaw’s wings against the cavern wall. I lifted my hands to my head, pushing my thumbs against the temples. Everybody was so busy watching the fight, they didn’t notice me. And I was so busy trying to clear my head, I was the only person looking at the ground, which meant I was the one who got to see her first.
Past all the boots, something bright shifted underneath the rubble. I knew what it was before it poked its golden crown through the hole Cornflower had made. It was a dragon, with patches of silver steel around her snout, making her look like a doll that’d been sewn together from a bunch of separate parts. She lifted her head, questing about like a dog scenting its prey; Ironjaw and Cornflower were too busy with one another to pay any attention to her.
But that was okay, because she was too busy looking for something to pay any attention to them.
Then she looked straight at me.
At once I felt a roaring in my head, like I was being held under rushing water, and it was impossible to concentrate on anything else—not Raphael and Luvander standing tense in front of us, or Adamo shouting back and forth with Troius, or even the dragons locked in combat, jaws around each other’s throats now like wolves going in for the slaughter.
You, said the voice, as the dragon pulled its way out of the hole, standing between us and the fight. I really have been waiting.
Toverre tugged at my sleeve. He’d noticed. But I shook him off because now wasn’t the time, and yeah, I’d seen it. Did he think I was blind?
For me? I wondered.
Of course, the voice replied. I like you. That foolish big man thinks he can call us all to him with his blood, but that’s not how it works. I want you.
Ironjaw knocked Cornflower back and metal grated against the tunnel wall, sending up sparks everywhere like we were in the middle of a forge. I didn’t know what that damned dragon meant, or why she was talking to me, or if I could even do anything when I didn’t have one of those handy circles in my palm like Gaeth did, but if this meant she was my dragon, then I had an obligation to help out.
Even if I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.
“Okay, so help us!” I bellowed, as loud as I could—almost as loud as Adamo managed during class when he caught some poor bastard napping.
Without blinking, the gold dragon whipped around, folding her wings in tight to make use of the small space and launching herself like a sleek, long missile right at Ironjaw’s chest. She caught our enemy off-balance and sent Ironjaw over onto her back, giving Cornflower time to get up and shake just to see if anything crucial’d been knocked loose.
“No!” I heard Troius shout. He sounded pretty furious, which made me downright tickled. “This shouldn’t be possible. The fail-safe—only the Esar should have control over her at this stage! How are you commanding her?”
“Guess you should’ve asked an expert, Troius,” Adamo yelled back. “I could’ve told you—nothing’s as contrary as a dragon!”
“Except maybe a woman,” Luvander added, his eyes on my girl.
“You in charge of that one?” Ghislain asked; it took me a second to realize he was talking to me, but only because of how I was staring at the dragons battling it out in front of us. Two on one now; the odds were definitely in our favor, though Ironjaw was clearly the best trained of all three.
“Maybe,” I said, which was as honest as I could get without betraying how out-of-my-mind piss-terrified I was.
My girl—if I could call her that—was screeching something fierce,