CHAPTER SEVEN Maren

Kaia had done well. She’d secured two packs, one of them large enough for the dragon kit to fit into. Within the other pack were two knives, blankets, a small pot, two water skins—and a few loaves of traveler’s bread. It was all I could do not to fall on it immediately. Kaia and I redistributed our bounty between the packs, and then shared one loaf of bread, passing it back and forth as we walked. We took smaller and smaller bites as the loaf shrank, neither wanting to be the one to finish it off.

“I still can’t believe she gave you all this,” I said.

“I told you, Aurati are looked on kindly in the empire,” Kaia said. “I explained what happened at Lumina and told them I was trying to get home, that I didn’t know what else to do, and she helped.”

“But… I still don’t understand why. I’ve spent time traveling throughout Zefed. Aurati are not so benevolent as these people seem to believe. They are the emperor’s eyes and ears.”

Kaia passed a piece of bread to the dragon kit. “That’s true, but the Aurati also assist. In emergencies, we are the ones who keep communications open between villages. Aurati coordinate supplies and help with rebuilding. They are the glue that connects the empire.”

She sounded like a recruitment speech, and I grimaced at how she’d used the word “we” to describe them.

Kaia continued. “You have to remember, Zefed isn’t governed the same way that Ilvera is. It can be difficult for people to move up in the world. The Aurati provide one such way, especially for those who might otherwise feel out of place.”

“But you keep overlooking that they kill initiates who can’t pass their trials,” I pointed out.

“They have secrets that need to be kept,” Kaia parried. “Things more important than neighborhood gossip.”

I laughed. “You can’t possibly use that as a defense. Kaia, they stole a dragon—a Verran dragon—and kept her chained for generations. And they would have killed you, once they had the next Prophet secured.”

I expected her to fire back at me, as she’d done when I’d asked about her injuries. Instead her shoulders sagged, and she looked away. “I don’t know that you could understand.”

I bit my lip. “I suppose you’re right. I don’t.”

When disagreeing with Kaia, I was accustomed to giving in. In the past I had thought it was because she usually had the better argument. But maybe it was because she had always been more sure of herself, and spoke more stridently. Now I, too, was unwilling to back down, and I could not bring myself to agree with her position—no matter what she had seen while she had been one of them.

An image of the initiates buried by the collapsing stronghold flashed through my head, and I flinched. Was this what they had thought of the order they had joined? That the Aurati did right by them? That the empire was worthy of their service?

I swallowed hard and changed the subject. “Did you ask that woman where we are?”

She nodded. “There’s a village ahead of us with an inn. We should arrive before nightfall. And this road eventually meets the highway that goes from Oskiath to Gedarin.”

“Good.” At least we were on course. While I was nervous about staying in highly trafficked areas, I knew I couldn’t navigate the forest all the way back to Oskiath without a road. And we could not afford to waste time by getting lost. I thought back to the vision I’d had of Sev. He hadn’t been lying in a dungeon, but I didn’t think he was out of danger either.

It was getting close to evening, and the sky was clear. The haze of summer was heavy in the air, and the scent of sun-warmed earth rose up from the ground as we walked. We hadn’t yet seen another traveler, but I warned the kit that she must stay close by and would have to go into the pack if we saw anyone. I let her roam freely otherwise. Soon she would be cooped up again, hiding from curious eyes. Better that she be allowed to run while she had the chance.

For a while we walked in silence, so I was taken by surprise when Kaia spoke.

“Look,” she said, pointing to the sky. “What’s that?”

It first appeared as a speck on the horizon, and for one instant I hoped against hope that Naava had returned to us. But the blurry dot quickly grew into a dragon bearing a rider—a Talon.

I whistled for the dragon kit, who ran to my side without hesitation.

“What do we do?” Kaia said.

I looked around frantically. We were alone on a dusty road with nowhere to hide. “I don’t know.”

Naava had broken the Talons’ hold on their dragons by singing. She’d told me afterward that dragonsong required more strength than she had remaining, but she’d said nothing of whether other dragons might also have this ability—or what was required to unlock it.

We had a dragon. But was she strong enough? And did I dare put her in harm’s way?

“Maren,” Kaia said, her voice strained.

“I know, I know!”

We had minutes, if that. I crouched down beside the dragon kit, trying to keep my voice from trembling. “All right, little one,” I said, taking one of her claws between my hands. “I should have talked to you earlier about this. But there’s a dragon coming at us, and we don’t have much time.”

The dragon kit chirped curiously. She knew dragons to be friends, not adversaries.

“This dragon is… being held. Against its will. It may try to attack us, like the dragons we saw a few days ago. Do you think that you could help me free it?”

An expression crossed the kit’s face that I would have described as wry amusement if I had seen it on a human. She sang her answer without hesitation. But did she really understand?

“You’ll need to sing when the dragon lands, as loudly as you can.” I hummed a few notes to demonstrate. The dragon kit echoed me, the song piercing through the air. I smiled. “Yes, just like that.” I patted her head.

Kaia stepped closer. “Maren, have you completely lost your senses? Your plan is to have the kit sing to them?” she asked incredulously.

“Naava did it. And the kit will be able to as well.”

“But she’s so small. Naava was enormous—she overpowered those other dragons. That’s what you need, not just any dragon. This can’t be your plan.”

I shrugged helplessly. “I don’t have another one. Do you?”

“I—I could act the Aurat again. I could tell the Talon that I’ve captured you, and then—”

“Then we’d be seized and dragged to Gedarin as captives,” I said, cutting her off. “I can’t risk that.”

She grimaced but didn’t push back. “Then you’d better be right about this.”

I nodded. It would work.

At least, I was pretty sure it could work, under the correct circumstances. Naava may have had special power over the other dragons, but dragonsong, she’d said, was the way they communicated, in the purest sense. And both the kit and I remembered the way she had sung.

Of course, we would have to get close enough for the dragon kit to reach out to the other dragon before being roasted alive. I hoped the emperor had said that we were to be captured, not killed on sight.

Despite everything I knew about the way dragons were treated by Zefed, I would never be indifferent to the sight of a majestic, full-grown dragon soaring through the sky. The dragon circled us twice, in wide swoops, before landing a cautious distance away. Its scales were a deep red-brown, gleaming in the sun. Its rider raised their helmet, revealing the face of an older woman, her dark hair cut short. “By the decree of the emperor, lay down your weapons!” she called in Zefedi.

We had little by way of weapons—even the blade I’d taken from the Prophet was more ceremonial than functional—but she didn’t know that. Kaia glanced at me.

“Put down your pack,” I whispered in Verran, lowering mine to the ground. Nothing we had would be a help against dragon fire, anyway.

The dragon kit pressed up against my legs.

I laid one hand on her head. Are you ready?

A determined-sounding chirp came back to me.

You’ll need to be quick, little one.

It was the most difficult thing, letting go of her. But the moment I lifted my hand, she jumped, surprising everyone with her motion. The other dragon reared up as the kit bounded forward. But just before the two collided, the kit screeched to a stop.

Something was wrong. The kit wasn’t singing. In fact, she had frozen in her tracks, as if paralyzed by the dragon towering over her.

The Talon dismounted, and I started to run. If the Talon got the kit, I didn’t know what I would do. I barreled into the rider before she could draw her sword, knocking us both to the ground.

We rolled, and I yanked her helmet back down over her face, blocking her vision. I grabbed her arm and wrenched it away from her side, breaking her grip on the hilt of the sword. The Talon punched me in the stomach with her other arm, and I fell back, gasping. I put my arms up, expecting another blow—but none came.

I lowered my arms to find that Kaia had gotten hold of the Talon’s sword, and was holding it steadily over the woman on the ground.

“Get the kit,” Kaia said, her gaze intent on the Talon. “Hurry.”

I scrambled to my feet. The kit was cowering under the attentions of the Talon’s dragon. It didn’t seem to have made up its mind about what to do about the small creature standing before it, though I wasn’t counting on that indecision lasting very long. I had only seconds to act, and only one thing I could think of to try. I stepped between the kit and the dragon.

The last time I had stood against a hostile dragon was when I’d faced down the Talons outside of Vir’s Passage, but I had no oils now to tip the scales in my favor. Desperate, I took a deep breath. And then I sang.

The melody that Naava had sung to free the other dragons had been unlike any Verran song I knew, but still, it had sunk into my mind and stuck there. I could not sing in quite the same way as a dragon, but I did my best, weaving together nonsense phrases and snatches of other songs from my childhood to create a human pattern to bring order to the dragon melody.

The air between us stilled, like the calm before a storm. The dragon tilted its head, listening. I couldn’t tell if the song was working, but at least the dragon had not yet attacked us. I could hear the Talon yelling as though from a great distance—I shut the sound out of my mind. Whatever I did, I could not stop singing. The dragon’s head bowed, and I took a tentative step forward, then another. I was so close that I could feel the heat coming off the dragon’s body in waves. Thin wisps of smoke rose from the dragon’s nostrils. I put a hand out. Took another step. Raised my hand and tentatively brought it to rest on the bridge of the dragon’s nose.

Confused consciousness sparked through me, and my vision fractured. I saw the dragon before me—but overlaid on that, an image of myself, small and bedraggled. My singing faltered, and the dragon tossed its—his—head, throwing me back.

I flew a few feet and landed hard on the road, losing my breath. Whatever connection I’d forged had been broken when my song stopped. The dragon opened his mouth, and I could smell smoke, could feel the impending flames—

The dragon kit sprang in front of me. She was singing now—a melody that was the twin of Naava’s song—and the sound spilled over me, coating my senses like snow. She charged at the dragon as her song got higher, shriller, angrier. The dragon fell back onto all fours and stiffened, his spine arching. He bellowed, engulfing the kit in flame. I screamed—but the flames cut out, and the kit stood there unharmed.

The dragon shuddered and sat back on his hind legs. Slowly, he shook his head. And then he began to sing, his voice rising in a rusty crackle that mingled with the kit’s song.

Kaia shrieked, and I looked over to see that the Talon had wrestled her sword back from Kaia. But instead of attacking either of us, the Talon ran for the dragon. She pulled up a sleeve and shoved her arm below the dragon’s nose. I could smell the lavender oil on her skin. The dragon dutifully dipped his head down, and for a moment I thought all was lost. And then he bared his fangs and bit down on the Talon’s arm.

The Talon screamed, falling to her knees. The dragon staggered back, as though surprised by what he had done. He thrashed, spilling his saddle to the ground, and then pushed off into the air. The dragon circled us once, bellowing fire. Then he shot like an arrow across the sky and away.