Never even cleaned up after their dragons. Vespir kept her rude opinions to herself—or at least muttered them under her breath—while she inspected Karina’s stall.
Her dragon hopped down from her perch when Vespir entered and nudged at the back of the girl’s neck while she shoveled the waste from one corner to another. Vespir coughed; this was never the most pleasant part of her job. Dragon aeries smelled like no other place on earth. Sulfuric, with that rotten-egg element that took a while to get used to. But then there was the fragrance of the rosehip ointment for their wings, and the warm campfire smell of their breath. The musk of the straw, the citrus of the polish used on their claws, the pine tree sap treatment of their tack.
The imperial aerie was located at the tip of the palace’s landing area, a gigantic, egg-shaped dome with the very top snipped off, providing an unbarred look into the sky beyond. The dragons could fly in and out through that opening. For people, there was a wooden door on the southern wall. The whole circular chamber was built of cool gray stone, and every dragon’s stall had plenty of room. There was enough space here to house ten dragons comfortably.
“And their riders are all too important to muck out a stall,” she grumbled to Karina, who nipped at Vespir’s hair. Even Antonia had learned, under Vespir’s guidance.
Vespir used a rake and a wicker broom to clear the floor and saw the standard marker.
Nothing looked different or special about it.
“Sorry, girl,” she breathed, sweeping the waste back in its proper place. She’d just dirtied the floor and made life harder for the imperial handlers, whoever and wherever they might be. Vespir frowned. Slackers. If she could take over this place, she’d have the aerie well run in no time. She edged out past Karina, pushed the tarp curtain aside, and took a deep breath of fresher air.
In addition to the five competitors’ dragons, the priests’ dragons also dwelled in the aerie. A Wyvern and an Aspis, Vespir had managed to get inside and examine their areas. Nothing. Wiping the back of her hand across her brow, Vespir laid the tools against the wall.
“Nothing?”
A giant gawp from one stall, and Ajax staggered out backward before falling onto his ass. Dog poked his head through the opening, his forked tongue hanging out the side of his mouth as he panted.
“I said no, Dog! No playtime!” Ajax stood, dusting himself off. “Damn dragon wants to snuggle.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Vespir stretched out her hand, and Dog nudged at her palm. She petted him between his nostrils. “He’s just a big, precious baby.”
“I didn’t see the mark under all his crap.” Ajax crossed his arms as Lucian and Emilia emerged from their respective stalls.
“Nothing,” Lucian said with a shrug.
“Nothing,” Emilia echoed. She appeared rather sheepish. “Perhaps I was mistaken.”
“Well, what about Hyperia?” Vespir shouldn’t have taken this personally, but the sight of them giving up…
Why, because they had to stoop down to the level of a handler and clean out dragon shit? Because now it was too hard?
Or…was it because Vespir longed to discover a reason for being called? It would be nice if her life—and death—had some meaning.
“Vespir.” Hyperia’s voice came from behind her dragon’s tarp. “I need your help.”
Hyperia’s admission of weakness stopped everyone cold. Vespir pulled back the curtain and found Hyperia with a pitchfork in her hands, the rake and wicker broom leaning to the side of Aufidius’s stall. The golden Hydra snarled when he saw Vespir, and his tail, wrapped serpentlike around the dragon’s taloned feet, began to unwind. The bull was ready to lash out. Vespir swallowed, her throat dry.
“What?” she whispered.
“He won’t let me inspect his area. I need you to distract him.”
“Maybe we should just say we checked them all,” Ajax muttered.
“Okay.” Vespir turned to the side, her head down, and gazed at Aufidius out of the corner of her eye. “Here, boy. It’s all right.” Slowly, Vespir raised her right arm to shoulder level, inviting the bull to take a sniff. Aufidius’s obsidian eyes glinted as he unwound his tail and took one, then two shuffling steps forward. Scrape, drag, scrape, drag went his claws. His guttural growl weakened her knees as he stretched out his head to sniff Vespir’s hand.
If he rejected her, he could bite her arm clean off.
“Please hurry,” she muttered, watching Hyperia shuffle around to the back of her dragon. It was a miracle, really, that the Volscia girl was doing this just to search for something that might not even be there. A noble usually had the luxury of sending others to do the dirty work. Then again, if Hyperia had ever wanted anything, it was the truth.
Bitterness swirled in Vespir’s gut, along with a keen admiration of the Volscia girl’s bravery.
Aufidius bared his sharp white teeth and snapped. Vespir jumped but kept her arm outstretched. The heat against her knuckles, then, the velvet-paper bump of scales against her hand. Fingers trembling, she touched Aufidius lightly on his snout.
“I did it,” she breathed.
Aufidius lunged forward, and it was a miracle that Vespir managed to fling herself away before he bit. The Hydra snarled, tail curling once again around his feet, the end of it flicking like a whip. Lucian grabbed Vespir, pulling her back, his arm around her waist. Emilia knelt by her side, face white with shock.
“I’ve never seen a dragon do that.” Her voice wavered.
“He’s feral.” Vespir wanted to call Aufidius what he truly was: a pit worm; an unbridled, wild monster. It didn’t matter that he and Hyperia shared a bond.
Well, maybe it did. Maybe it explained everything.
“There’s something here!” The Volscia girl sounded numb. “I don’t believe it.”
“Seriously?” Ajax bounded ahead, skidding to a halt before Aufidius. “What?”
“It’s a door in the floor. It’s been painted over to look like stone, but…I think it’s a plaster facade. There’s a keyhole in the symbol. I think it’s locked. No.” A moment later. “It is locked.”
“Is there any chance it’s some kind of storage unit?” Emilia asked Vespir. The Aurun girl began to chew on her thumbnail. “Perhaps a place to dump the waste?”
“No. We keep tack and supplies in cupboards, and the waste chute’s by the front door. A handler would never keep one in a single stall, or locked.” Vespir’s mind worked to find a logical explanation. Maybe it was an extra entrance for staff? But why? And why disguise it?
She got up and began to search the rest of the aerie, looking for some type of key on the tack hooks and in the cupboards. But there was no key.
“How do we get in?” Ajax muttered as Hyperia left the stall. “I don’t feel like hanging out with Aufidius while we try a bunch of different ideas.”
“Maybe the images are supposed to help us,” Emilia said. She gazed up at the ceiling with a faraway look in her eyes. Her lips moved, shaping her thoughts noiselessly. “I’ll go to the library and see if I can discern anything from Erasmus’s old writings. He was fairly prolific.” Vespir wasn’t quite sure what old, dusty volumes of philosophy had to do with all this, but then again, she didn’t think Emilia was the world’s most practical person. “Hyperia should stay and see if there’s any other way in, since she’s the only one who can get past Aufidius. Lucian?”
“I can find Rufus again, see if he knows anything. He’s worked at the palace for a while now.”
“Good. Ajax, you should—”
“I’m headed back to the throne room,” the blond boy said.
“You won’t be able to get in.” Lucian sounded annoyed.
“I’m way past doors at this point. Remember?”
“Fine,” Emilia said. “Vespir, you should…” She paused, clearly trying to think of something. “Can you speak with the handlers? But don’t ask outright about a key. For now, I think we should keep the door as secret as possible.”
“If they’ve been in there, they probably know about it,” Vespir offered, but Hyperia seemed less sure.
“The plaster looks exactly like the surrounding stone, and the keyhole was carved into the symbol itself. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I wouldn’t have noticed. Someone worked hard to disguise it.” If Hyperia of the Volscia was prepared to turn conspirator, they must all be onto something.
“All right.” Vespir sighed. “I’ll go talk to the servants.”
As they left the aerie on their separate missions, she considered how fitting their roles were: Ajax to intrigue, Emilia to books, Lucian to soldiers, Hyperia to her monster, and Vespir to servants.
It was all that could be expected of her.