I fell silent, suddenly troubled. Steffon had been certain the fire wasn’t an accident, and so he’d been searching for someone—anyone—to blame. My dragon hadn’t done it, though. And I knew Ragnar wouldn’t, either, despite Nilsa’s warnings that I didn’t truly know him.
So if neither of them had anything to do with it, whohadstarted the fire?
Frowning, I turned to gaze down the hill at the distant town. Smoke curled from chimneys, lights shone in windows, and the blackened meadow stretched out to the north, where it backed up against the woods that had managed to survive the worst of the fire. From here, Riverwold looked calm and peaceful. Just another evening in the quaint little town.
“Maybe someone was just trying to stop the festival, for whatever reason,” I eventually said. “That’s why they set the fire.”
Reykur snorted. Clearly, he wasn’t convinced. Neither was I.
But what was I to do? Steffon had told me to leave. If I tried to return now, what would happen? What would I even say? They already believed my dragon was behind it. Why would they listen if I tried to warn them it was someone else?
A sudden gust of wind slammed into me, forcing me to bend my knees to stay on my feet. Thunderclaps tore through the sky. Clenching my teeth, I turned toward the mountains behind me, only to find bulbous clouds heaving with rain.
Reykur screeched and took off. He had to get away from the path of the storm or the rain would burn his scales. I broke out into a run, following him across the foothills. Pumping my arms by my sides, I dodged rocks and dips in the grass, my cloak whipping around my legs.
“Reykur!” I called after him, my voice hoarse and ragged.
Rain fell in heavy sheets, drenching me instantly. I could hardly see, but I kept my eyes on the winged figure dashing through the storm. Worry fuelled my every pounding step. Even if he managed to outrun the clouds, he’d be in pain for hours after this. I wouldn’t let him face that alone.
An outcropping of rocks rose just ahead. Reykur soared toward it, the wind buffeting his wings. His talons scraped the ground as he thundered inside the cave, leaving tracks of churned earth behind him. I stumbled after him, but my foot got caught in my cloak. I fell forward and my face hit the muddy ground.
Everything went black.
* * *
Iawoke to a crackling fire and a warm body pressed against mine. My head pounded in time with the beat of my heart, and my eyes felt swollen and dry. When I forced them open, I found myself in a small cave with a membranous wing covering my body like a blanket. Reykur curled beside me, his soft breaths tickling my cheeks. And just beside us, a campfire blazed.
Slowly, I eased myself out from beneath him to take stock of the situation. Rain sprayed into the mouth of the cave, painting the stones. The harsh wind was doing it damndest to reach us, but we were far back enough to stay dry. I looked down at my muddy legs. Reykur must have dragged me inside after I fell.
I moved closer to him and gently ran my fingers along his scales. He was covered in big, angry red welts. Sighing, I sat back down beside him and pulled my knees to my chest. Thankfully, my clothes were mostly dry now, but I’d lost my pack when I’d been chasing Reykur in the rain. What a pair we made.
Something glimmered in the corner of my eye, dragging my attention away from my sleeping dragon. The firelight glinted across the steel hoops of a dozen barrels stacked in the corner of the cave. Frowning, I stood, trailing across the stone ground. Those barrels looked mighty familiar.
When I reached the stack, I hoisted one of the barrels into my arms. Liquid sloshed inside and heaved against the wood. A sweet, earthy scent washed over me.
Slowly, I turned back toward Reykur. He’d cocked one eye open and was squinting at me.
I shook the barrel. The liquid sloshed some more. “Curious thing. We happened to stumble upon a cave fully stocked with what looks, feels, and smells like ale.”
Reykur shut his eye.
“Ah ha.” Carefully, I set the barrel back down and strode over to the dragon. “You knew these were here. For how long?”
His only answer was to wiggle his wing a bit, like he was considering flying right out of here and back into the brutal storm.
“Since they went missing?” I asked, my voice rising an octave.
He reopened his eyes—both this time. With a huff, he pushed onto his feet, trundled over to the barrels, and—much to my shock and dismay—collected one of them by gently lifting it with his teeth.
My mouth dropped open. “Are you telling me thatyoustole my kegs?”
Reykur blinked once before releasing the keg. I took that to mean he had, in fact, taken all the ale.
I needed to sit down. All this time, Reykur had been behind it. Mydragon. But how? And why? Unlike the pies, it didn’t look like he’d actually consumed any of it. He’d just taken it and stored it here, along with…wait a minute. I looked behind the barrels. There were a few sacks of flour, grains, and vegetables hidden here, too.
I pointed at them. “Where did you get those?”
He swung his head toward the east, in the direction of the sea.
