“They’ve spotted a shadow dragon in southern Vatra,” he says, clearly desperate to talk about it. “And it’s not the first sighting. People have been talking about it forweeks.”
She frowns. She’s not heard anything. She supposes she misses this kind of gossip, being on the move all the time—though Cam would have had a field day.
She remembers lying next to him on a sandy beach, looking up at the Stars.Imagine the freedom of it, flying up there.He traced a path across the sky with his hand.No one could touch you. No one could hurt you.
She’s only gleaned a little of what brought Cam to the troupe, but she knows his parents had kicked him out, and worse, for not living up to what a Blooded child should be. She wants to find his parents oneday. Wants to leave marks on them that cut deeper than what they’ve done to Cam’s soul.
She scoffed.Never going to happen. Only the royals get dragons.
You never know. Maybe there’s a version of reality where anyone Blooded gets the chance to stand their tests.
“So?” she asks out loud now, and the men stare at her. Right. She should be more charming.
“So?” repeats Gray Hair. “There is no lunar dragon with the royals.” He says it slowly, like she might be thick, and it takes all her willpower not to reach for her pin.
“So that means someone else has been to the island without them knowing,” continues the boy, excitement creeping back into his voice. “It means there is another rider out there.”
Coal Eyes shakes his head. “More likely that someone saw a dragon and imagined a rider. If there’s even a dragon. For all we know, it’s a rumor started by the rebels to get everyone’s hopes up.”
“No,” the boy says firmly. “It’s a sign.”
Gray Hair snorts. “A sign, hey? Of what? Careful, lad, or you’ll be sounding like our Arach-worshipping friend out there in no time.”
Skylar doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation—because the woman in the blue cloak has stood up to leave. What happened to the meeting? Her heart lurches—she didn’t miss it, did she? No, she can’t have. Maybe it got called off. Or maybe it’s now happening elsewhere.
She keeps her distance as she follows the woman away from the city center and down a dark street. Light flickers from nearby buildings, but the buzzing of Vitalas is less obvious here—they must be in a poorer part of the city. There’s a shrillkik-kik-kikof a bird of prey somewhere up above her. Her nerves prickle as she follows down another alley, keeping her steps as silent as she can. She tells herself she’s fine—she’s the one stalking in this scenario. But still, she fingers the dagger strapped to her waist—the one she took from Aldric’s stock.
The blue-cloaked woman comes to a stop up ahead, and Skylar blinks into the darkness as another person steps out of the shadows. There is a moment of quiet. A moment where the woman jerks her head. Toward where Skylar is standing, hidden.
It takes less than a second for her to realize something is wrong. To realize that they are not waiting for someone important to arrive.
Which can only mean one thing.
Aldric. He set her up.
She is running before she even knows what she is running from. But there is someone there to her left, someone who has been waiting to pounce. Heart beating in her throat, she rolls under outstretched hands, springing up and kicking back. She hears the satisfying sound of her foot making contact just as another person closes in behind her and she spins, slicing with her dagger. She feels the blade make contact with flesh, hears the hiss of pain.
Move, Lar!
She doesn’t need his warning. She already knows she’s in deep shit here, can feel the pounding in her head, that sickening sensation in her gut she’s only felt once or twice in her life. She is running, fast, as she hears a muttered oath behind her, then more murmuring, words she doesn’t understand.
She’s almost at the end of the alley when she freezes. And not of her own accord.
Shit. She can’t move. Something is trapping her, holding her in place mid-run. Even her eyes are frozen, watering where they are unable to blink. Her heart is still working, beating faster as panic rises. And there is something deeper thrumming inside her, unable to get out, like it, too, is frozen by this magic.
She hears footsteps, then a voice. One she recognizes, because although he might be able to cast an illusion over the way he looks, he can’t change the way he sounds. “I told you she’d be fast.”
There is a tutting, then an unfamiliar accent, rough, scraping over her raw nerves. “This the one?”
“Yes.” Aldric’s voice again. Mild, unconcerned. “It’s her.”
A hand grabs her arm, fingers digging into muscle. But still she can’t move. She can’t look to see who the owner of the hand is, can’t put her dagger through those fingers to stop them ever being functional again.
Aldric’s face comes into view, peering down at her out of one of his many disguises. He shakes his head a little sadly. “Sorry, Sugarplum. But everyone has a price.”
Aldric. Aldric set her up, she thinks again. Is he the reason Cam went missing, too? Did he bring them to the Stone City to sell them off to the highest bidder?
She glares at what she can see of him. Something is boiling in her gut—heating her very blood. Beads of sweat prick her forehead as she struggles, every fiber of her being screaming at her. She cannot let this happen. She will not be taken. She will not fight for a country she’d rather see burn.
