Charred Tears (#2, Heart of Fire) by Lizzy Ford

laugh. “Should I have done that? Freed them?”
    Yes. Her instincts were firm.
    “I don’t know, Sky. Nothing we’ve been taught is right.” Mason’s soft, frustrated tone carried a note of loss she felt, too.
    “Should I … uh … free the others?” She stretched to grab another figure. “What if they really were making fried chicken out of people and this is their punishment?”
    Mason picked up one.
    “Or,” she continued. “What if they’ve all had their lives taken from them, like the slayers, and are innocent?”
    “I don’t know.” Mason wrapped his hand around the figurine. “I want to see if I can do it.”
    Skylar nodded. She picked up each of the figurines and set it on its feet, feeling bad that she’d manhandled them and stuffed them in her pocket without any idea the delicate figurines were somehow alive. They all appeared identical. There was no way to know what color the dragon would become once it was free, no markings of any kind or detailing on the tiny stone statues.
    “It doesn’t seem possible there’s a whole dragon inside of here,” she marveled, holding up one.
    “It’s not working for me,” Mason said, disappointed. He replaced it on the table. “How old do you think they are?”
    “No idea.” She made a fist around one.
    “Do you feel anything when you do it?”
    “It gets warm.”
    “So maybe you’re transferring magic to it.” He grew pensive. “Like maybe, Caleb takes it away, and they turn to stone. Then you give it back.”
    “How?”
    “It’s a theory.”
    We are the dragons’ guardians. The words had come to her in a dream, given to her by her mother.
    “I’m going to free them,” she decided. “And if one of them fries people, I’ll re-capture him. I still have the lassos.”
    “I guess it can’t be that bad, can it?” Mason reasoned.
    I hope not. Skylar drew a deep breath and took the next dragon figurine in her hand.
    Mason pulled the chairs from the patio into the room and propped the door open, offering her the chair closest to the door.
    Skylar sat and placed the squirming dragon in her hand onto the patio floor. She leaned forward, intrigued by what color it would be.
    “Light blue,” she murmured with a smile. “They’re so beautiful, Mason.”
    “Pretty but dangerous,” he said. “Hoping they behave.”
    “Me, too. We’ve only got two lassos.” Skylar leaned back as the dragon grew.
    The beauty of the creatures left her mesmerized. She leaned forward to grab another dragon not long after the one on the patio took off.
    “Hey, Mason,” she said, giggling. “Just add water. Get it? Insta-dragon.”
    “I think you mean, just add fire,” he said with a snort.
    “Not sure what I’m adding, but it’s working. I think we need to go back to Caleb’s. Grab the rest of the figurines to see if they come to life, too.”
    “We can’t do that, Skylar.”
    She glanced over her shoulder at him. His features were shuttered again.
    “You won’t tell me what happened?” she ventured.
    “Maybe later.”
    “I’m worried about you, Mason.”
    “I’m fine, Sky. Promise.” His expression was too troubled for her to believe him. “Work on your dragons. I’m gonna grab my bag from the truck and take a shower.” He didn’t wait for her to ask him more questions but rose and left.
    Skylar watched him go, concerned. He’d been gradually growing tenser since leaving Caleb’s. The more they talked, the more agitated he became.
    The wriggling dragon in her hand pulled her attention back to her task, and she set it on the patio and sat back to watch it grow and take off into the night sky.
    Dragon after dragon, she spent the next two hours freeing them, immersed in her mission. No part of her doubted she was doing wrong, not when she saw how incredible each creature was when it came to life again. None of them changed into their human forms, as if their initial instinct was to fly.
    “Not that I blame you,” she said to the last