The blade struck the approaching dragon in the snout but didn’t deter it. Worse, Lysilria roared, opening her maw wide. Fire roiled in the back of her throat. Gonging noises came from pillars on the shoreline and also at the center of Lucky Island. The alarms didn’t deter the dragon—it wasn’t as if Lysilria ran a business in Tranquility and cared about being banished.
Rylana lifted one of the oars, but it would do precious little against a dragon. Sylin swung down from the boardwalk. Startled, Rylana gaped as her friend’s boots connected with her shoulder. Rylana tumbled over the side of the boat, splashing into the cold water. As the shocking chill enveloped her, another splash erupted nearby—Sylin dropping in right after her.
Expecting the dragon to breathe fire, Rylana welcomed the icy water and dove down deeper. Sylin had the right idea.
The alarm gongs reverberating from the pillar on the island were audible—Rylana could sense them in the water. No burstof brilliant orange came from above. Even so, she held her breath, paddling to stay under. Her knuckles bumped against the side of the rowboat. Surprisingly, the dragon hadn’t yet lit it on fire.
A purple glow started up beside Rylana. She would have laughed—no doubt, her fall had agitated the organisms into creating their defensive light—but she worried the illumination would make her a target.
When something brushed against her side, Rylana yelped, air escaping in bubbles. But it was Sylin patting her arm. And indicating that it was safe to go up? It was too dark to see her gestures, but the currents stirred, and Rylana sensed Sylin rising to the surface.
Warily, Rylana followed, sucking in air as soon as her head broke the surface. The rowboat had drifted out from under the boardwalk, but they remained under it, the wood planks blocking part of the sky. Rylana didn’tseethe dragon but imagined her perched atop the boardwalk, talons curled over the railing. A roar out in the middle of the lake made her look that way.
“How did you know he would arrive in time?” Sylin asked.
It took Rylana a moment to spot not one buttwodragons, scarcely above the surface of the lake as they rolled and gyrated, tails splashing the water. Fighting, she realized. The moonlight was just bright enough that she could see the paler scales—the silver scales—of Jildarin. Had he flown in and knocked his aunt away before she could light up the boardwalk, the boat,andRylana?
“He’s my partner,” she said, not admitting that she hadn’t had any idea that Jildarin would arrive in time. “I have faith in him.”
“I guess it’s been a while since I heard him call youmy enemy.”
“As we discussed earlier. Jildarin and I are allies now. He faces down enemy dragons, rival chefs, and aquatic yeast, and I reconcile his books and hold his Whiskmaster.”
“His Whiskmaster? Is that a gnomish term for something the baker would twist into an adult croissant?”
“No. I— Oh, the yeast!” Worried they’d knocked the stockpot over while leaping out of the boat, Rylana swam toward it.
“Yeast?” Sylin held the craft steady so Rylana could climb in.
“Aquaticyeast.” A wave washed into her face, keeping her from explaining further.
Grunting, Rylana pulled herself over the side of the boat. It rocked, and her muscles strained as her soggy clothing and boots weighed her down, but she clambered inside and huffed out a relieved breath. The stockpot remained upright, the cheesecloth still covering it, though some of the water had sloshed out. A puddle in the bottom of the boat glowed green.
“Let’s hurry up and row to…” Rylana looked around. She wanted to return to the dock where they’d borrowed the boat, but that part of the shoreline was distant, and the dragons were roaring and snapping at each other not far away. “Lucky Island. That’s closer.”
“There’s another dragon out here somewhere.” Sylin slithered over the side of the rowboat without trouble. “I can sense it.”
“Jildarin’s mom.” While she grabbed an oar, Rylana glanced toward the southern end of the lake, worried Jixana might attack next. She hadn’t been as quick as the aunt to suggest Rylana’s death, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t approve of it.
“Hismom?” Sylin took the other oar, and they squished together on the bench to row as a team toward the island.
Rylana looked toward the skirmish. Jildarin and his aunt had stopped attacking each other, but they continued to circle and roar, so she didn’t assume the confrontation was over.
“Who’s that?” Sylin added, pointing at Lysilria.
“His aunt.”
“Is he estrangedfrom his family? That may be an inadequate word for relatives trying to kill you.”
“They don’t want to kill him. They just want to kill me.”
“Areyouestranged from his family?”
“They think I’m distracting him from mating with all the female dragons who want his apparently very desirable sperm.”
“I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Well, if they ask you, tell them that I’mnotdistracting Jildarin because we’re not lovers ormating,as the dragons call it. We’re not anything except business partners.”
