“Only enough to keep you from getting turned two-dimensional!”
She pulled her hair forward and studied it. It wasn’t terrible—still long enough to reach her shoulder blades, but the ends were hacked.
“It could be worse,” she said sadly.
“Yes, a lot worse. You could be smeared into the mountain like jam on toast.”
“Gracious, why do you have to put it like that?”
He placed his hands on either side of her face and said, “To keep everything in perspective, ya lunatic.”
The mountain groaned again, and they both flinched.
“Let’s keep moving,” Evander said, standing and pulling her to her feet.
She longed to ask him if he was alright—if he was dizzy or seeing double or bleeding—but she knew he would say he was fine and press on like always. The man was so infuriatingly stoic, she wondered if she’d get any warning before he fell over dead or if he would simply collapse one day at the breakfast table.
She shoved these thoughts aside and followed him to where Hera was waiting, trembling like a horse caught in a thunderstorm.
Ten minutes later, the path closed again. This time, Valenna was watching for a second path to open, and they jumped onto it before anyone needed an impromptu haircut.
“I thought you’d been here before,” Valenna said after their third narrow escape.
“I flew,” Evander said. “So I didn’t have to manage this.”
They traveled until the sun dipped behind the peaks, bathing the mountainside in a pink blush. It brought out the touch of red in Evander’s hair.
Then all at once, like curtains on a theater stage, the narrow gray walls fell away, and they stopped on a lip of rock jutting out into the open air. Hera’s front foot slipped, and she scrambled for her footing, grunting indignantly. Her big head swiveled to glare at Evander as if to say, “See what you’ve made me do?”
Before them lay a hollow in the mountain. Rocky ground rose from a sky-blue lake to a stone and thatch village. The buildings stretched from the lakeshore to the base of the mountain wall, then clambered up the rock face, suspended in the air by chains.
Flying dragons soared overhead, aquatic species splashed and swam in the sparkling water, and land dragons with thick armored plates plodded down suspended wooden walkways between caves high up in the walls.
With a rush of wings, a dragon descended from above and obstructed their view. Mounted on the dragon was a woman with gray braids and a face too young to match them. She was tall and wiry, with broad shoulders, tanned brown skin, and almond eyes like Valenna’s. She carried herself with an air of unwavering command.
“Evander Trevelyan,” she said, her expression stony. “What do you think you’re doing back in Cobblepine?”
“Ariadne Augmendene,” Evander replied.“I have a favor to ask.”
“Let me see your tattoo.”
Valenna glanced at Evander. He was tense, his shoulders bunched.
“We need to speak in private,” he said.
“Oh, yes, we do. Is that Hera?” Ariadne Augmendene asked.
“She’s grown, hasn’t she?”
Ariadne nodded. “Excessively.”
“She’s fat and spoiled,” Valenna muttered.
Ariadne, who hadn’t paid Valenna any heed, snapped her attention to her now. “And who is this?”
“This is Valenna Castanaia,” Evander said.
“Wife?” Ariadne asked shortly.
