Shapes of people and horses appear below, and my chest tightens. “Veer to the left.”
We were already planning to,Xendus says as he banks.
Surath is flying ahead of us now. She’d already swerved to avoid being spotted by what appears to be a regiment of Khotori soldiers marching across Achotian farmland.
A sick feeling invades my belly. Rosomon would not like seeing Khotori soldiers in her father’s domain. My grandfather offered her father protection in exchange for Rosomon’s hand. Did grandfather retaliate, seeking vengeance for Rosomon’s rejection?
My father’s expansionist visions are even grander than the current King’s, but father is not yet on the throne. The men of my family are notoriously long lived, and my grandfather, having but five and seventy years, will likely remain on the throne for two decades yet.
The men in our family live far longer than the women. Especially women who marry into our family. Shame invades my belly.
I love my family, in spite of their faults. My loyalty to Khotor can never be broken, but I do hope that future generations of our family will learn to treat women with more respect than my grandfather and the men who came before him. If Rosomon hadn’t fled her marriage, she’d likely have joined the ranks of my grandfather’s dead wives.
The Khotori soldiers we saw likely mean that Rosomon’s father and my grandfather struck a different alliance. Perhaps one of Rosomon’s younger brothers married one of my nieces.
Yes, I decide. It’s much better to believe that the Khotori soldiers we saw are there toprotectAchotia, notinvadeit. If Achotia and Khotor are in conflict, it would cause great tension between Rosomon and me. And it never pays to linger over theoretical possibilities—especially negative ones.
Rosomon loves me. She hasn’t said so, but I feel sure of it. Whatever is going on here in the Light, neither of us would ever let politics destroy what we have.
Concentrate on the route, young prince.
“I am.” But Xendus was right to remind me. We’ve gone off course, making our flight longer, but I spot the distinctive sharp twin peaks of Silverveil. We’re now fully outside of Achotia, flying over the border between Khotor and Sidonia. I don’t know this area well, even on land.
Are we lost?Xendus growls, and his knot expands inside me.
“No.” I shake my head, scanning the landscape. “The farthest mountain range to our right is in Khotor.” The Khotori mountains are less jagged and rocky, mostly tree covered except for the Peaks of Kapusmar. “The Kapusmar Valley is in that mountain range.”
It had better be.
The day Zogar led us to Khotor, we crossed the distance quickly. But not only did we fly so fast I could barely breathe, our route was more direct that day, because we weren’t trying to hide.
I fight to concentrate on nothing beyond the landscape and our route, and when we enter the mountains, I guide Xendus and Surath through the Vantari Heights and through the Peaks of Kapusmar. The rising sun hasn’t yet reached the valleys below, but it kisses the mountaintops, painting them with a pink not unlike the color of Rosomon’s hair.
I spot our destination. “There!”
About time.
Xendus and Surath circle and then land in a meadow of shadow grass that’s so long the verdant green blades swallow the dragons’ talons and the bottom quarter of Xendus’s legs—and even more of Surath’s. A great deal of rain must have fallen in the Khotori mountains this spring.
Surath raises her head and snorts a long stream of fire. A long swath of grass ignites, but the meadows are so fresh and green the fire quickly burns out.
Shaking her head, Surath stomps away from us.
“Where is she going?” I ask.
Get off me, Xendus growls, and he digs in his spike, readying his wing for me to dismount.Surath has sensitivities to certain plants and flowers. Whatever infernal ground cover you chose for our landing—it bothers her nose.
“Oh.” I quickly slide off of Xendus and into the field, and the shadow grass rises up well past my knees. I run my hands through the blades of the familiar plant, and its scent fills the air. I suppose it is powerful, if one isn’t used to the aroma.
Xendus follows Surath, and I watch in awe as their dragon forms melt away to leave their human bodies behind—their very naked human bodies. I didn’t think about clothes.
They can’t arrive at the castle this way, and now that I consider it, even my clothes might raise questions. Unless I traveled here atop a dragon, why would I be wearing my riding uniform? I’ll tell everyone at court that I rode my dragon to Khotor and sheltered him in a cave.
The shadow grass is shorter close to the forest, so I head in that direction, beckoning for Surath and Xendus to follow.
“What sort of garments are most appropriate in your kingdom?” Xendus asks when they join me. “Will this do?”
In a flash, the pair are clothed in leathers, not unlike my riding gear.
