—is he?
Shaking, Bellamy’s hands fall from his ears. He hadn’t even noticed himself trying uselessly to muffle the noise. His head still rings, and his tongue is slow to respond.
Too slow. Sarka snarls aloud, embers blazing in her throat, and roars again in Bellamy’s head:Where is my Rakos?
“Sarka,” Bellamy says, his voice so small in comparison he wonders if she can hear him.
Stupid. I know my own name. Must I repeat my question in smaller human words?
All right, Sarka thinks he’s an idiot, but at least she can hear him. Bellamy takes a shuddering breath and straightens up. “Rakos was trying to return to you, but he was captured again by other dragonriders last night. I don’t know where they took him.”
Sarka’s tail lashes.He left me. I searched for him and didn’t find him. Explain this to me.
“He didn’t want to leave you.”
Sarka snarls again, wings spreading. Bellamy staggers back with the force of the wind—and Bastard teleports with a pop. She appears directly between Bellamy and the dragon, fur bristling along her tiny spine.
Fierce squeaks answer the dragon’s bellow.
Bellamy rushes to grab her, but she teleports another five feet forward, still chirping aggressively.
Sarka’s wings settle along her back.Stop yelling at me, tiny freak.
“I’m not—” Bellamy starts before realizing what Sarka means. He stares between the dragon and the blinkmink. “Wait, can you speak with Bastard?”
A fitting name. Yes, I can speak with her, though she has nothing of value to say.Sarka snorts, her attention returning to Bellamy. Her mental voice softens.Explain more to me, and perhaps I won’t eat you.
Bellamy takes a deep breath, encouraged that neither he nor Bastard have been eaten yet. “Rakos didn’t leave you of his own free will. He was kidnapped by his political enemies, and they attempted to exile him from the country. Ever since I met him, his only goal has been to return to you. He wanted you to know he didn’t leave you on purpose. He would never abandon you.” Bellamy’s voice wavers. “He would never abandon anyone who needed him.”
Sarka shivers, and the fire winks out from between her teeth. Her head lowers.I knew that. She sounds suddenly young and uncertain.Of course, I knew he wouldn’t leave me. We’re bonded.
“Rakos also told me he’s tired of the schemes and fighting,” Bellamy continues. “He wants to leave Draskora if he isn’t welcome, but only if you come with him. He really loves you. You’re his family.”
Of course. I am the best. Nobody would abandon me.Sarka’s brief uncertainty is gone. She tilts her head.This still doesn’t explain why you smell like my rider, when you also reek of Sandry magic.
Apparently, there’s no lying to a dragon about this. But Bellamy is far beyond his tenuous disguise at this point. “I’m Bellamy Sandry, but Rakos doesn’t know that yet. We’ve just been traveling together, and… “
Sarka abruptly looks down at Bastard, who rolls around on the ground, then blinks to Bellamy’s shoulder. A low, delighted laugh resounds through Bellamy’s mind.Traveling together? If that’s what you humans are calling it these days. Nice to know he was having fun while I desperately searched for him.
“I’m sorry,” Bellamy says, not sure what he’s apologizing for. Did his blinkmink just tell this dragon about his sex life? “I swear, he really was searching for you.”
Sarka lifts her head and rustles her wings.Where is he now, though?She hisses before Bellamy can answer.That skirmish I saw from afar. That was him? They took him again?
“I’m sorry,” Bellamy says again. “I couldn’t do anything. They took him again, and it was my fault. I triggered—”
I will ask him if it was your fault.Sarka’s tail lashes.They lied to me. They all lied to me. Antex and Liliana. Fucking Miklan! Grab my harness, little Sandry. We will fly to—oh! There he is! Oh, Miklan, you diseased lizard!
She twists around, fury clear in every scale of her serpentine body. Bellamy jumps back from the whirlwind of dust and air, and Bastard teleports away from his shoulder. He doesn’t see where she lands.
But he sees what Sarka was yelling at: a wing of four dragons darts towards them from the direction of Parsk. All different colors, and Bellamy recognizes one by its red-purple scales. The same color as Irenka’s hair at the bloodmasque.
Air rushes as Sarka launches herself up. Her mental snarl rings painfully through the sky:You lied to me! You wyrmfuckers all lied to me!
Irenka’s Miklan banks sharply in midair, barely avoiding Sarka’s outstretched claws.Can you not smell the enemy? Your rider is a traitor.
Sarka dives for him again.Who can I trust? You? You lied to me, Miklan! I will wrench your head from your neck and shove it snout-first up your filthy cloaca!
The clash is far overhead, but not far enough for Bellamy’s comfort. He scrambles towards the ridge wall, looking for Bastard and an empty lair to hide in.
