“I’m not sure.” Again, I try to remember the number of days I spent, savoring nothing but bliss with Rosomon and Saxon in that magical castle. It was five, maybe six days, but my mind was consumed by priorities far more exciting and life changing than tracking time.
“Where are Rosomon and the behemoth?” Treacher asks.
Behind us, Surath breathes a long stream of fire that streaks across the field, scorching the grasses and flowers in its path. The flames miss us by less than twenty handspans. Smoke fills my nostrils, and ash rises from a line in the earth, but the flames quickly extinguish in the damp grasses.
“The dragon Rosomon rides is calledZogar,” I remind Treacher. “Don’t call him the…” I shake my head. “None of the dragons like that word.”
Treacher frowns. “Are you implying that Saxon’s dragon breathed fire because sheheardme?” His face contorts with obvious skepticism. “Are you saying a dragon disapproved of myword choice?”
Scoffing, Treacher turns toward the dragons. “Dragons, if you can hear me, show me.” He puts his hands on his hips, in mock challenge.
Xendus and Surath breathe fire together, this time directing it up toward the Great Beyond. Their fiery streams combine midair, altering the color of the sky above us.
Treacher staggers back a few steps.
“Believe me,” I say flatly. “The dragons can hear and understand your every word.”
Treacher turns back to me, wonder in his eyes. “Canallof the dragons hear? Even when riderless? How is that possible?”
“There are many things about dragons you don’t know.” I love having knowledge he lacks.
“Thentellme.” Treacher frowns, and lines combine with his scars to create an intimidating image. But I’m the one with the power right now.
“All in good time.” My chest expands, every part of me loving this change in dynamic between me and the fierce dragon master. “First, tell me what happened in the Light, while I was gone.”
Treacher’s eyes narrow. “Answer my questions!”
Surath breathes another stream of fire, this time directing it toward the enclaves, drawing my attention that direction. Across the field, dragon handlers are heading toward us, several on a horse-drawn wagon carrying a Shadowdust cannon like the one Xendus destroyed.
My chest seizes. “What did Roule mean when he told you tohandlethe dragons.”
Treacher folds his arms over his chest. “Your Highness.” My title drips from his lips with thick sarcasm. “I believe you well know what he meant.”
He beckons the dragon handlers, urging them to hurry.
I race toward Xendus. He’s already prepared his wing for me, and I climb up.
Treacher cries out.
Casting his mounting rope, Treacher captured one of Surath spikes. But she takes flight, leaving him dangling from the rope, high about the ground.
I slide back onto Xendus’s pommel, and his knot quickly expands.
“Tell Surath—askher not to kill him.” Treacher’s no ally, but if he dies right now, we’ll definitely gain enemies.
Xendus takes flight, his massive wings beating the air as we quickly rise. Surath continues to hover, still at a relatively safe distance should Treacher fall. But instead of letting go, the fool is climbing the rope, trying to get atop her.
“You idiot!” I shout. “Can you get me close enough to talk to him?”
Xendus growls.
“I wasn’t callingyouan idiot,” I clarify.
Surath is restraining her desire to crush that man and spear his heart with her talons.
My chest tightens. “Will she do that?”
She might spare him, if the fool lets go of the rope.
