“Tell me more of Saxon. How often have you seen him?” My heart breaks, thinking of Saxon trapped in a dungeon, and I blink back the tears rising in my eyes. I refuse to cry in front of Treacher.
He frowns. “I’ve been visiting as often as I can. Bringing him food and water, trying to get him to talk. I don’t think he’s spoken a word, over the many moon cycles those bastards have held him.”
“Is it theklerickswho are holding him?”
“The klericks andRoule.” Treacher’s eyes darken.
I suck a sharp breath through my nose. “Master Roule?”
Treacher nods. “Bastard handed control of the camp to Kaelus, the Head Klerick.”
Shock ripples through me as I try to understand how this could have happened. Officially, the three dragon masters were equals, but it was the general consensus amongst the riders and candidates that Treacher and Saxon shared control of camp—control over Roule. “How could you let the klericks take control?”
“I didn’tletthem.” Treacher growls and his frown deepens. “I’ve done what I can. If I do any more, I’ll land in that dungeon with Saxon.”
I draw a deep breath, grateful he didn’t lash out at my impertinent and accusatory question. I’m still getting over the shock that we weren’t met with a battalion of riders the moment we burst through the veil. Or that no dragon riders or soldiers have followed Treacher here. And if no more dragons were rescued, Treacher doesn’t yet know that dragons can shift.
“What other changes have happened at camp?” I’m still unsure I can trust him.
The anger inside him visibly builds. “The klericks halted flight training. They replaced Roule’s classroom instruction with religious studies or prayer sessions, and they won’t let any remaining candidates attempt a mounting.” His eyes narrow. “They confiscated the sphincter trainers.”
I shake my head in dismay. “Why wouldn’t they want more riders? Don’t they realize that the dragons have protected us for centuries?” Even more than any of us knew.
“The klericks now say the bond between a man and a dragon is blasphemous—like Roule claimed it was for you.” One side of his mouth quirks up in the hint of a smirk.
I raise my chin. “I don’t remember you arguing Roule on that matter.”
“Did I ever use the word blasphemy?”
He has a point there. “Without dragons, how do the klericks plan to maintain the veil?”
“When you three vanished, the demon attacks stopped. The klericks now preach that the demon attacks were Othrix’s punishment for humans riding dragons.” Treacher frowns, as if he just realized something. “You only just came through the veil. You haven’t seen anyone.” His eyes narrow. “How did you know that Saxon’s in prison?”
“Zogar told me.”
His eyes widen. “Your dragon speaks to you?”
I nod.
He shakes his head. “And how the fuck did your dragon know?” Treacher looks far more curious than skeptical.
I turn back toward Zogar, and nod, giving him the signal. For better or worse, it’s time that Treacher learns the truth about dragons. It’s a risk, but if I’m expecting honesty from him, I should offer the same.
“Surath, Xendus,” I call out. “Will you come here and meet Treacher?”
Staggering back a few steps, Treacher looks at me like I’m mad. “Saxon and Tynan’s dragons arehere? How? Where are they?” He spins around, scanning the field.
Surath and Xendus stride out of the forest. Treacher is looking in the opposite direction, yet his eyes widen in alarm, and I glance over my shoulder.
Zogar, in human form, is striding toward us. I doubt Surath and Xendus heard my conversation with Treacher, but I know Zogar did—or at least heard everything up until he shifted.
Treacher spins and spots Xendus and Surath approaching. “What?” He turns back to me. “Who are these people? Did you bring them back from the Darkness?” He glares at me, and distrust overtakes his expression.
Was revealing the truth a mistake?
Zogar reaches me first, taking a strong stance beside me. “I am Zogar, King of the Dragons,” he tells Treacher. “And Rosomon is my queen.”
Treacher’s eyes are wide, and his apple of Othrix bobs in his throat.
