The singing stopped as the young guard mentioned her name.

  Lyanna did not speak. Her lips, cracked and stained rust-red, parted, but only a soft, tuneless hum emerged.

  "She hasn't spoken in three months," the young guard said. "Not since the first time he... drank."

  Eirik forced his gaze from the girl to the guard.

  "Your name."

  "My name is Cassian. I serve as personal attendant to Lord Corvinus." The young guard whispered. "Before that, I was the General's personal guard."

  So this was one of Corvinus's own men. That explained his access to information about the General's meetings. It also explained his ability to move through the city undetected.

  "Tell me what this is, Cassian." Eirik gestured toward Lyanna without looking back.

  Cassian moved to a spot near the far wall, keeping his voice low despite the chamber's isolation.

  "What do you know of the General's sacrifice?"

  "I've only heard a version from the Archmage who tried to kill me."

  "Then I'll tell you what he left out." Cassian's jaw tightened. "The sacrifice was the source of the General's power."

  "The Black Dragon."

  "Yes, Lord Stormcrow." Cassian held his gaze. "But he gained only a fraction of what was promised. The ritual required her life, and he wasn't able to finish it."

  The words settled into the chamber like stones dropped into still water.

  "Then how can he become a dragon at all?" Eirik asked.

  Cassian was quiet for a moment.

  "It requires blood. Her blood."

  Eirik's stomach turned.

  "How often?"

  "Every day. More during battles." Cassian's hands clenched into fists. "It's the the only thing keeping our enemies from swarming the walls."

  "So the General does it for the city," Eirik said. "I think I heard that excuse before."

  "He's not a monster," Cassian said, and his voice broke. "I served him since I was a boy. He weeps, Lord Stormcrow. Every time he ascends these stairs, he weeps. But he believes—he truly believes—that this is the only way. That without the Dragon, the city falls, and she dies anyway, along with everyone else."

  Eirik looked at the raw wounds on the girl's wrists where the manacles had worn through skin to bone.

  "The siege isn't broken," Eirik said quietly. "Even with the Dragon."

  "No. It just... continues." Cassian took a step forward. "I warned you because I saw what you did in the courtyard. You're from the future—you know things. And when I saw you looking at the tower this afternoon, I thought... maybe you could..."

  "Save her?" Eirik finished.

  Cassian dropped to his knees. The sound of his armor hitting the stone was loud in the small room.

  "Please. I have no right to ask. I know the laws. The penalty for treason is the Long March—naked, into the Khorath lines. But I cannot bear another dawn listening to her sing while he climbs these stairs with that empty bowl in his hands."

  Eirik turned away. Through the narrow window, the city sprawled beneath a moon that seemed too bright.

  "Get up," Eirik said.

  "I won't—"

  "Get up, or I'll freeze you to the floor and leave you here."

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  Cassian rose slowly.

  "If I take her," Eirik said, "if I cut those chains and carry her out of this tower, what then? Where do we hide her? The General will tear this city apart stone by stone. He'll know someone helped her. He'll know it was someone with access to the tower. That narrows the suspects to you. And to me eventually."

  Cassian's face went gray. "I could—"

  "You could what? Smuggle her out through the sally port? Through forty miles of Khorath patrols with a girl who can barely walk?" Eirik shook his head. "They'd find her by noon. And us hanging from the walls by sunset."

  "Then what?" the guard whispered. "You have power. I saw you defeated a hundred men. You are from the future. There must be—"

  "My power is considerable, but it is not omnipotent." Eirik paced toward the window, then back. His mind was racing, calculating, rejecting possibilities as fast as they arose. "Even if we could smuggle her out and somehow bypass the General, the Khorath will just breach the walls without the dragon. Our little act of mercy becomes massacre."

  The young man's shoulders slumped. "Then there's nothing to be done."

  "I didn't say that."

  The guard looked up as Eirik stopped pacing.

  "It is not the one you think," Eirik said. "Nor the one you will like. In fact, you will probably hate it. But given the short notice, it is the only thing I can conceive that does not end with us dead and her still in chains."

  "Speak."

  Eirik moved to stand before Lyanna. She did not flinch as he crouched to her level. Up close, he could see the scars—dozens of them, overlapping, some fresh and pink, others white.

  "The Archmage wanted my blood badly," Eirik said quietly. "And that implies I carry the blood of Abercrombie. If that is true—if lineage matters in this ritual—then she must live to bear descendants, or I would not exist to stand here."

  The guard frowned. "What does that—"

  "It means," Eirik stood, turning to face the guard fully, "that I might be able to share the General's power."

  Silence fell.

  "The ritual requires Abercrombie blood," Eirik continued. "The transformation requires the drinking of her blood by someone of the Abercrombie line. Everyone believes only the General can do this. Only he can become the Dragon. Correct?"

  The guard’s face had gone pale as milk. "You cannot mean..."

  "If I drink her blood," Eirik said. "I become the Black Dragon. Or something close enough to pass."

  "You are mad—"

  "Listen." Eirik continued. "The only way you free her without our heads rolling is to make the city listen to me. As the Dragon-General. If I possess that power—by wearing that form—the soldiers will obey me."

  He stepped closer to the guard, lowering his voice to a hiss.

  "But to do this without being discovered, we must hide the General himself. Keep him somewhere secret—perhaps the same place you intended to hide her. While he is contained, I assume his identity. I organize the sally you need. I lead the army out against the Khorath timber lines. And in that chaos—in that moment when all eyes are on the Dragon flying north—I give you your chance."

  "Chance?"

  "To rescue her," Eirik gestured to Lyanna. "When the General is known to be 'leading' the charge in dragon-form, you take her. The city will be focused on the fight. You will have a window."

  The guard stared at him, mouth working soundlessly.

  "The cost," Eirik continued, "is that she must endure a few more feedings. I must drink her blood to become the Dragon. But once I have committed the forces, you take her and you run."

  "It's monstrous," the guard breathed. "You'd drink her blood. You'd become... that."

  "I would drink a few mouthfuls of blood to save her from a lifetime of being drained," Eirik snapped. "Yes, it's nauseating. Yes, it's vile. But look at her!" He pointed at the chains. "How many 'feedings' has she endured? Hundreds? Thousands? What's a few more drops if it buys her freedom? If it buys her life?"

  The guard looked at Lyanna, his face contorted in agony.

  "You said the General weeps? Good. Let him weep in a cell instead of at her wrist."

  The young man looked at Lyanna. She was watching them both, her lips parted slightly, a single drop of blood tracing a path down her wrist from where the manacles chafed.

  "I can't..." the guard started. "It's too much. To betray him like that. He saved us all, once. He's not evil, he's just... desperate."

  "He's feeding on his daughter," Eirik said flatly. "If that's not evil, the word has no meaning."

  "But—"

  "Yes, I know that makes me evil too." Eirik's voice was cold. "But I never pretend otherwise. I had very few encounters with the General and did not hear him say much, but from what I gathered, he's torn between making himself noble while being weighted down by the guilt of this monstrosity. The guilt and the pressure made him vulnerable. Thus, when I came with plans to help him win the city honorably and squarely, he still chose my poisonous enemies anyway. He is your good general, Cassian. But didn't you see? He was so blinded by his need to be good that all he does now is evil."

  Cassian opened his mouth, but Eirik raised a hand.

  "I do not care about goodness. My goals are simple. In fact, this was what I told Corvinus, and the General, and now I'll tell you again. My goal is simply to break this siege and end whatever nightmare I found myself trapped in. It is that simple. I leave the good and evil for other people to judge. But know this—I'll get it done. Unlike your general, who I knew from the future sat there in paralysis while the food ran out and people literally started eating each other."

  The guard's face went white. "Eating...?"

  "You don't have to listen to me." Eirik turned toward the window. "We can walk away. Let him come at dawn and drink his fill."

  The silence stretched.

  Then Lyanna began to sing again.

  It was different this time—not the mournful dirge that had drawn Eirik through the streets, but something fierce. A battle hymn, perhaps. The notes climbed, higher and higher, filling the chamber with a sound that seemed to vibrate in Eirik's teeth, in his bones, in the very ice that lingered in his veins.

  She was offering her wrist.

  Cassian looked up, and tears immediately streaming down his face.