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It turns out I wasn’t lying to Esme about hunting down a lead.

Esme. Failing to include her in my report is a glaring omission I should examine later. If Sterling knew I was holding back, he’d lose his mind. For now, though, some misfiring protective instinct convinces me to keep her to myself. “I’ll check it out. I haven’t had the opportunity to speak to any nobles yet. A tournament might be the perfect time and place.”

Rafe gives me a long look. He knows I’m lying about or omitting something. Just not what. “You do that.”

The Havens are a short flight from here, but I’ll have to pretend I’m not Tirenese and take a boat. “You should take a good look at the Meridian plains on your way back. I made a copy of the map I’ve been using to track the Withering. You can check if it’s spread since I’ve been through those areas.” Another thought crosses my mind. “Where are the other dragons? I saw three fly over.”

“We’ll check it out.” Rafe gestures over to our left. “And they’re hunting. Ryu will hunt later.”

The magnificent creature huffs and stretches his long neck out.

I reach up and rest my palm against the dragon’s scaled jaw. “Keep them safe. I know the plan is to wait for night to travel, but I’ve seen what the Hollow Ones can do to people and alicorns. I don’t want my friends getting hurt too.”

Ryu exhales a gust of sulfurous air, and his eyelids droop halfway shut.

I step back. “Safe winds to you all. I’ll check in again as soon as I’m able.”

Rafe nods, and the others wave me off.

I raise one hand in acknowledgment, turn, and head back toward town.

Finally, I have a solid lead worth following.

Diners pack the long wooden tables of the inn. When I enter, I find Esme hunched over a plate at the bar.

I weave my way through the boisterous crowd, avoiding a sloppy drinker who swings his mug around to emphasize his story. The interior has that familiar tavern smell of fermented ale, roasting meat, and the sweat of too many bodies crammed into one space. A barmaid shoots me an interested wink and asks if I need a table. Replying with a faint smile and shake of my head, I continue on until I reach Esme and tap her on her shoulder.

She whirls, and the polite smile freezes on her face. “What?”

Well, shit. Esme has gotten better at reading me. I might as well spill it. “Good news and bad news.” I prop myself against the bar and steal half a roasted potato from her plate. “Which do you want first?”

Her smile disappears, and it’s not because I swiped her meal. “Good.”

I lean closer so I can lower my voice and avoid being overheard. “The tournament is taking place in the capital of The Havens.” We already knew the kingdom the event’s taking place in, just not that it’ll be in Azurea. “Now, ask me about the bad news.”

“Uh oh.” Her shoulders curl inward. “What is it?”

I plop onto the stool beside her. “I have no idea what the connection is.”

Esme’s whole face lights up, and the sudden transformation disorients me. “Look at this.” She pulls out a tattered piece of paper and unrolls it on the table. “My contact saw this drawing and thought it was our artifact. The Everhand is the grand prize in the tournament.”

I stare at the paper and its illustration of a large dagger studded with jewels before reading the notice underneath. It’s as Esme described, though it says to ask a port master for more information. The port master will likely direct us toward the official tournament site. The harder it is to sign up for the event, the more determined the combatants will be, which weeds out the local bully-boys and ensures good fights.

Esme sighs, her cheer fading as quickly as it appeared. “So some random warrior is going to win the Everhand we need to save the world.”

With a nod to the bartender, I order a drink and a plate of food for myself. “It’s worse than that. The Onyx Knight is fighting in the tourney.”

Esme flinches, and her lips form the words The Onyx Knight.

The bartender sets down two mugs and a plate.

I slide one mug toward Esme. “Apparently, the Everhand is worth breaking a multi-generational pattern of isolation.”

She picks up the mug but doesn’t drink, the liquid within as flat as her eyes. “So that’s that.” Her voice empties like she tipped her mug over onto the floor. “Some ancient warrior-monster gets the one thing that can save Meridia, and we…what? Ask him nicely to hand it over?”

I drink half my ale in one go, hoping the bitter liquid will clear my head. “Alternatively, someone could enter the tournament. Win the Everhand fair and square.” I set my mug down and grin at her. “You any good in a fighting ring?”

She gives me a short, humorless laugh. “I can barely walk across a room without tripping.”