Vorik shook his head, smiling slightly, like someone who knew a secret.
The two dragons didn’t fly together for long. Wreylith cut toward the island to fly across it instead of around, the way the ships would have to travel. She and Syla passed through the translucent barrier, the magic briefly rippling over skin and scale but doing nothing to keep them out. Agrevlari had to fly upward so that he could soar over the island above the barrier.
They flew over the farms, fruit and berry orchards, and small towns between the southwestern shoreline and the northeastern side of the island where the populous capital sprawled along Sky Torn Harbor with the castle perched on the bluff overlooking it all. Since they were coming in from the back side, Syla didn’t see the flag at first, but she trusted Vorik had reported accurately, that her royal-blue Moonmark banner had been replaced by the yellow of Fograth’s family.
What shedidsee immediately was the fleet. With every mooring spot along every dock occupied and dozens more warships in the protected waters nearby, it looked like all the vessels in the Kingdom fleet had been called to Castle Island.
Syla glowered and fumed. “While we were fighting stormers and dragons at Harvest Island and Bogberry Island, and could have usedhelp,the island lords were sending their ships here for a cursed coup.”
If another rules your kingdom,Wreylith said,will you still be able to acquire a cave for me and start a horn-hog farm?
“Probably not.” Syla would be busy dodging assassins that would be sent to ensure she wasn’t an ongoing threat to the new ruler.
That’s a problem.
Wreylith’s cave wasn’t Syla’s primary concern, but shehadtold the dragon that she would find something on land owned by the crown that would suffice. “I know. We’re not going to let Lord Fograth remain in power. Trust me.”
She’d never wanted the throne, but she wouldn’t stand by while someone stole it from her family. The Moonmarks had ruled for centuries—since the gods themselves had given the magical moon birthmarks to her ancestors and placed them in charge. Besides, she would do a better job for the people than someone ambitious enough to stage a coup.
Shall I fly down and set fire to all those vessels?Wreylith angled toward the harbor.
By now, people had noticed the dragon in the sky. Syla couldn’t hear the shouts, but she could pick out soldiers on the castle walls and in the watchtowers around the harbor as men ran to weapons stations.
“No. Those areourships.” Syla touched her chest. “We’ve already been devastated by the stormers—and they’ll probably attack again once they recover from the last battle. We can’tfurther destroy ourselves and our ability to withstand invasions by sinking our own ships and killing our own people.” Frustration burbled in her as the truth of her words made her realize how difficult it would be to take back control. If Fograth had the loyalty of the Royal Fleet…
A boom came from below.
They presume to fire at me!The cannonball sailed past far to the side, but Wreylith roared with indignation.
More booms came from below.
“Better get out of there, Syla!” Vorik called from above, the words barely audible across the distance.
Instead, Wreylith dove toward the harbor, smoke wafting from her nostrils.
“Don’t attack,” Syla blurted, pressing her hands harder into the dragon’s scales. “Please. We’ll find another way.”
Wreylith continued to dive.
“I’ll handle this,” Syla hurried to say, instinctively willing magic into the dragon, not only anchors but power meant to make her words resonate, to sway her ally. “I’ll take back the throne, find you a cave, and get you all the livestock you can eat. Just don’t set fire to my capital or my fleet.” The doubt that she could rightfully call eitherhersanymore crept into her mind, but she wouldn’t accept defeat or give up her title without a fight. “Please!” she added. “I have a plan!”
She did not, but she would come up with one quickly. She had to.
Wreylith growled, but she did rise from her dive.
Syla sensed that it was more her magic than her words that swayed the dragon, convincing Wreylith to bank and fly back the way they’d come as more cannonballs lofted past around them. Syla wasn’t sure what she’d done, as she knew a dragon’s power was far greater than a human’s, even a human with the gods-gift, but Wreylith headed back toward theFanged Whale. She didn’tlook pleased about it, however, and flapped her wings hard, her back stiff.
Smoke continued to waft from her nostrils, and she gave Syla a cool look over her shoulder, her golden eyes glowing, before descending toward the ship. Instead of landing, Wreylith tilted sideways, startling Syla again. The dragon’s magic sliced through the tendrils keeping Syla mounted, and she fell toward the deck, crying out with alarm.
Fel cursed and ran over to catch her. As big and sturdy as he was, her weight dropping from the sky sent him to one knee. Though he’d softened her landing, he ended up spilling her onto the deck, and she rolled to an ungainly stop before the weapons platform. Still sitting on it, Aunt Tibby gaped down at her. The entirecrewwas gaping at her, and heat flushed Syla’s cheeks as Wreylith flew off without a word.
“What happened?” Captain Vonla looked from Syla to the departing dragon, who banked and headed in the direction of Harvest Island.
“Wreylith wasn’t pleased that I asked her not to light the fleet on fire.” Syla grabbed the weapons platform for support and pulled herself to her feet. Silently, she admitted she had done more thanaskthough she wasn’t certain how her magic had affected the dragon.
A shadow fell over the deck. Vorik jumped off Agrevlari’s back a moment before his dragon landed calmly on the wheelhouse. There wasn’t any smoke wafting fromhisnostrils.
“I think it’s more than that.” With his keen hearing, Vorik must have caught her comment.
