The weight within the stone shifted again, but Toli held on. She peered into the bejeweled depths, leaning closer. A sweep of scales brushed past before a bright golden eye blinked up at her. Its vertical pupil narrowed. Toli yelped and tossed the stone back into the pile of snow at the cave’s edge. It vanished with a poof as a burst of snow flew into the air.
Choking, Toli stared at the place where the thing had disappeared. A single word ran through her mind like a storm. Dragon. Dragon. Dragon. Dragon. Dragon.
She shivered. The wind rang through the caves as she reached out and pulled the dragon chrysalis from the snow. Its weight shifted. One golden eye narrowed at her accusingly.
Her thoughts jumbled, and Toli swallowed hard as her hands slipped over the smooth crystalline surface. She stared. She couldn’t help it. If she looked close, she could make out red scales glinting inside, the outline of a leg, a talon—a long muzzled face.
Her heart hardened. She should leave it. Let it stay here in the cold. Anyway, what would she do with it? The dragons would want it back—wouldn’t they?
Toli paused, chewing her lip. The dragons would want it back. Could keeping the chrysalis help get her mother back? She bent down and grabbed a woven sack partly frozen to the bottom of the sled. A small hole tore in the bag as she pulled it free of the icy surface. The inside was covered in bits of fish and frozen scales, but it would have to do. Her hands shook as she shoved the chrysalis inside, along with some rags and fur. She’d take it to Spar. She had promised to listen to Pendar, but if he didn’t know about the chrysalis, he’d have nothing to say about it. Spar would know what to do.
Toli leaned one hand against the outer lip of the cave. She peered out at the snow, and then up at the sky for any clue as to where the baby dragon had come from. Her hushed voice seemed loud in the smothering fog. “Why aren’t they looking for you?”
Hearing the words sent a jolt through her. Maybe they were looking. Of course they were!
She couldn’t wait on the weather. She had to leave. Now.
Toli tugged her white cloak tight around her shoulders, pulled the hood up to cover her hair, and then rolled her eyes at herself. She might be harder to see, but the sled wasn’t.
She stashed the sack under the seat, out of sight, and where she wouldn’t have to look at it. She’d show it to Spar. They could figure out what to do with it together. Her heart pounded as she jumped into the sled and slapped the reins, racing for the safety of the Queendom as fast as the foxes could carry her.
As she left the caves behind, Toli tried to calm her thoughts, but they whirled like snow in the wind. A baby dragon. She’d found a baby dragon, not even hatched. She’d never seen a dragon chrysalis before. What was it doing out here all by itself, and how had it gotten there? She had no idea how unhatched baby dragons were supposed to be cared for, but she was pretty sure that lying buried in the snow at the mouth of an ice cave—alone—wasn’t it.
The foxes slowed, whining.
“Hup! Hup!” Toli cried, rising to her feet. She had hardly left the cave. They were still thirty minutes from the Southern Gate, and she was eager to find Spar. She frowned as the foxes dragged to a stop, whimpering and cringing. Something was making them nervous.
Goose bumps broke out across Toli’s skin. There was nothing—just fog and the first pale hints of morning moonlight on the ice. She got out of the sled, moving slowly, her eyes flicking from the fog to the foxes, but she couldn’t find any reason for them to be alarmed.
She crouched down next to the lead fox. “What is it, girl?” She sank her hands into the fox’s fur to comfort her. “Listen,” she let her voice drop to a whisper. “I’m nervous too, but we have to hurry. We need to get home now, okay? Please?”
The fox crouched down on her haunches with a low snarl, and as she did, Toli caught a scent on the air. It was a sharp electric smell. The last time she had smelled it, her father had died.
A whoosh of wings, and Toli slowly lifted her eyes to the sky.
Two dragons, one huge and black, the other smaller and green, hovered high above her, looking down. Instinct took over. Toli threw her arms over her head.
The black dragon hissed—a female, then.
The green one snickered, touching down to the left of the sled, blocking any escape toward the forest. “It sees us, Sister. Should we fear for our lives?”
The foxes cowered as the black dragon dropped down to land, so close it shook the ice under the sled. The scales along the front edges of her wings glittered in the starlight. Slit pupils dilated in large sapphire eyes as she peered at Toli. “I am Krala Frost, firstborn female of my seethe. This is Dral—my twin. Name yourself.”
Words stuck in Toli’s throat for several long seconds. It was the green’s cough of laughter that shook them loose. “T … Toli. I’m Anatolia Strongarm, uh, firstborn female of the Queendom of Gall.”
The black dragon—Krala—seemed to smile, her mouth so full of piercing teeth that Toli almost missed what she said. “You were right, brother mine,” she hissed. “It is one of them. And the firstborn. The thing they call a princess.”
“What do you want?” Toli croaked.
The brother dragon, Dral, cocked his head at the foxes, his crescent pupils widening. Toli had the fleeting thought that he wanted to eat them, but it was drowned out by the rushing sound of her own blood. She fought to stay still, as some still-observant part of her brain noticed Dral’s feathers. He had more than his sister—a wide collar at his neck, and long, green and copper pin feathers along his spine that rose and fell when he breathed.
Krala dipped her shoulder, knocking him aside. “We’re here for something else, Brother. These little bags of bone will only stick in your teeth. They never satisfy.”
Dral narrowed his slit eyes at her, but fell back a few steps.
“What do we want?” Krala’s chuckle sent a tide of shivers down Toli’s spine. The dragon gazed back at her brother. “The better question is, What don’t we want?” She chuckled again, leaning forward to peer at Toli. “In fact, we are … looking for something.”
There was only one thing Toli knew of that they might be trying to find, and no matter how she might feel about the chrysalis itself, she would be charred to ash and bone twice over before she would give these dragons anything they wanted. Her heart lurched, remembering the sight of her mother being carried out of sight, hanging from a dragon’s talons, and the pain of her father’s shout as he ran across the impossible distance of ice between them. If there was something she had that they wanted—good. She would deny them at every turn. She’d have nothing to do with helping dragons.
Even as rebellion flickered in her head, her body recognized the danger. Every muscle tensed, and her breath turned shallow as she struggled not to make any sudden moves, and not to check under the bench where the dragon chrysalis was hidden. She kept her face blank, but her skin broke out in a cold sheen of sweat. “What are you looking for?”
“Just a small thing,” Dral simpered. “A small red stone. It belongs to the Mother, and—”
Krala hissed at him, edging him back. “It is of no value,” she said, her head whipping back toward Toli. “It’s only … sentimental. Tell us. Have you seen it?” She leaned closer. “You must have passed by the caves quite recently. I am certain it was there. Do you have it? I smell something … familiar.”
Toli couldn’t keep her gaze from shifting to the belly of the sled where her bow lay waiting, the chrysalis a handsbreadth away from it. Her fingers twitched. Breathe, Toli, she told herself as she moved to stand in her sled, closer to her weapon, and to the chrysalis.
Toli forced her hands to relax, clasping them to her sides, so the dragon wouldn’t see them shaking. She’d never get to her bow in time. And she was outnumbered. She’d be dead in a heartbeat, and then what would her mother do—and what about Petal?
Her thoughts whirled. She wasn’t about to give them the chrysalis. However it got there to begin with—and whatever they wanted with it—helping them wouldn’t do the Queendom any good—or get her mother back. If they already knew she’d found it, they wouldn’t be asking her. They’d just take it.
“I don’t have your stupid stone,” she snarled. “All you smell is my cloak.” She held up the edge of it. “Scales! See?”
Krala huffed, and Toli gritted her teeth. How dare they take everything and then ask for more? “Why should I help you? Where’s my mother? Is she alive? Bring her back!”
The dragon lifted a claw and gave an idle flick toward one of the foxes. “Unimportant.”
Rage lanced through her. “Not to me! Did you do something to her? Where is she?” Her mother was in danger. Was she dead already? Had they killed her?
Toli’s skin crawled as Krala craned forward, her rank breath steaming against Toli’s face. “So distrustful. Be careful, Anatolia Firstborn. You may offend me.” She leaned forward another inch. A drop of saliva fell, steaming, to the ice next to Toli’s foot. “I think you do not want to offend me.” The dragon pulled back. “Your mother is alive enough, most likely. Ata collected her. My Queen had some foolish notion that she might be useful.” Krala’s mouth widened, her teeth glistening. “It is weak of her. She might as well bare her throat.”
Her mother was alive. A rush of dizziness threatened as relief coursed through her. She could almost hear the seconds pass as her thoughts churned. It wasn’t too late. Her mother was alive. It isn’t too late. She had to keep them talking, had to somehow make them reveal something—what the Dragon-Mother wanted, why they’d taken the queen—anything that might help Toli save her. “What do you mean, my mother might be useful?”
Krala blew fire at the sky. “I agree. It is absurd. Our Dragon-Mother makes a fatal error.” She craned forward, her lip curling back in a sneer. “Imagine thinking such puny, stupid bone bags could be useful to us.” Krala’s neck arched toward the sky like a serpent as she let out a roar. “She is fire-addled if she thinks we—we—could need anything from such puny bites.”
Toli cringed as the other dragon—the brother, Dral—let out a matching roar that shook the ice. She forced herself to stand her ground.
“If the Dragon-Mother thinks we’re useful…” Toli didn’t realize she’d spoken until the words tickled across her lips. She tilted her head as the rest of the question escaped. “If she wants our help with something, why didn’t she just ask us?”
Krala launched forward like a shooting star. Toli stumbled, falling to her back on the bottom of the sled. Krala leaned down to stare Toli in the eyes.
She froze in the dragon’s glare, her body going cold.
“We are dragons,” Krala began in a low whisper. “We do not ask for anything. We take what we want, and what we want is ours. In this, our Dragon-Mother is correct.” Krala stepped back, allowing Toli to get up.
“Your queen is the mightiest of your people.” Krala continued. “Take her, and we take her power. Take her, and the rest are ours—loyal.”
“What power? What does the Dragon-Mother want with our loyalty?” Toli cried out as Krala snapped her jaws inches from Toli’s face.
“I don’t like your tone.” Krala let out a low hum that was almost a purr. “But your questions show a sliver of wisdom, puny one. She should not show you such regard. Bone bags have no use at all.”
Dral snorted a puff of smoke. “It is good that we did what we did, Sister.”
Toli’s thoughts caught on his words. What we did. What had Krala and Dral done?
They obviously didn’t think much of people—or of her. Maybe she could use that, if she was careful. They didn’t see her as a threat. To them she was just a bag of bones, dumb as stone. She took shallow breaths. If she stayed quiet, maybe they’d forget she was even there. Maybe they’d talk too freely and tell her something she could use to help her mother.
Krala chucked. “I am always right. The bone bags should fear us and stay below our notice, where they belong. This notion that their queen could help us is offensive! Absurd!”
Toli began to shiver as Dral leaned his face close, studying her. “I do not understand why our Dragon-Mother wishes a partnership with these creatures. Can you see it, Sister?”
“See it?” she hissed. “I can almost smell it—like rot. Puny bites ruling the land. Puny bites telling us what we can eat, and what we can’t.” Krala moved closer to Dral, her disgust rolling across the ice like wind, carrying the scent of smoke and death. “Listen to me, Brother. This error in judgment will open this Dragon-Mother’s veins in the end—the solution is simple. I will destroy her so I may my rightful place.”
Toli’s breath hitched. Krala wants to rule the dragons. At the same moment she saw Dral’s eyes widen, and for just an instant, a flash of fear. She wondered what he was afraid of, but cast the question away. The important part was that Krala wanted their Dragon-Mother dead—or gone.
Toli chewed her lip. She hoped Krala was telling the truth about her mother being alive. Dragons didn’t ask for help, Krala had said. But apparently their Queen, the Dragon-Mother, might. But help—with what?
She looked up and startled. The dragons had stopped talking. Krala looked at Dral expectantly, but Dral was watching Toli with narrowed eyes. She froze as he inched closer.
“Answer me,” Krala rattled. “Am I not a Frost? So what would you have me do, Brother?”
Dral’s lips peeled back, revealing two neat rows of jagged teeth. “We could just finish all the bites in their tiny Queendom, starting with this one.”
Toli’s blood turned cold as Krala tipped her head back and laughed, her throat rippling. “Such hardship! All those bones in our teeth, and our seethe would hunger still, my brother. Though it would almost be worth it to see the looks on their faces. No, I think it must wait. I do not wish to call attention to us at this time.”
Toli didn’t trust any dragon, and she never would, but these two seemed even less trustworthy than most. They had just threatened to turn her Queendom into a snack. It was long past time to escape—to return home and plan her mother’s rescue, but if she made Krala angry now, the dragons’ only quarrel would be over her bones.
“Are … all the dragons awake? I’m sure with everyone looking for the stone—”
Dral huffed steam. “We rose early. But soon the rest will rise.”
Toli wondered if there were other dragons that agreed with Krala and thought the Dragon-Mother was weak and, how had she put it … fire-addled?
“Hush, Brother,” Krala hissed. “It is past. I am done with searching. I suppose you may eat this bone bag now if you wish, and the little four-footed bone bags.”
A gust of hot, putrid air brought her eyes up. Dral had moved closer, his inhale dragging at Toli’s clothes. “Are you certain, Anatolia Firstborn? Are you certain you have not seen what we’re looking for?” he asked.
Krala whipped around, crashing into him with her head and blowing a long blast of fire past his shoulder. “Dral! It is time to let the stone go. Its fate is sealed by now. It will be broken and d-dust. We can’t return it! Not now. Not ever!”
If it was so important, why wouldn’t Krala want to keep looking? Why wouldn’t she want the others looking when they rose? Krala had said she was a Frost. There was something familiar about that. The thought danced at the back of Toli’s thoughts, but she couldn’t quite catch it out of the past.
She saw alarm flash over the green dragon’s face and watched as Dral drew back, his pupils narrowed. “Sister,” he rumbled, “you said we would return it—that once the Mother suspected Bola and the others of conspiring to take it, we—”
“No! We cannot return it! Nor do I wish to. She needs no more brethren! She needs no more first—”
“But, Sister—”
“No. It will be as I say. The Dragon-Mother will believe what we tell her, and so will the others. The stone no longer matters.”
Toli let out her breath. They had stolen the chrysalis! They put it there and for some reason wanted the Dragon-Mother to suspect other dragons.
Whatever the Dragon-Mother had planned for Toli’s mother, it had upset Krala enough to do something about it.
Toli’s eyes slid to the foxes where they huddled in a shivering pile, as far from the dragons as they could get. Her heart had given up being in shock, but it still threw itself painfully against her ribs, again and again. She pressed one hand to her chest, certain it must be bruising.
It’s just like I felt on the hunt, she thought. Just like when I missed. She closed her eyes, shutting out the dragons, forcing her pulse to steady.
“Look at it, Sister. What is it doing?”
“The firstborn calms itself,” Krala hissed, and Toli thought she imagined a hint of respect.
Past time to get out of here, Toli, she thought, and opened her eyes. “So, the Mother sent you to look for this red stone thing?”
Krala dipped her head. “Of course,” she hissed. “It is as you say.”
“And she sent you because you’re—”
“Her sister,” Krala hissed.
“Her servant,” Dral said.
Krala spun, snapping, and this time she drew blood. A thin line blossomed across Dral’s shoulder. “It is both, of course,” she explained, turning back to Toli. “We all serve the Mother. We are all … loyal.”
Toli’s brows knit. Loyal wasn’t a word she would use to describe either of the dragons.
Krala had settled into what Petal would have called “a sulk.”
Toli’s voice was carefully soft—humble. “The Dragon-Mother isn’t your … mother?”
Dral’s eyes didn’t leave Krala, but he steamed his breath and answered. “It is a … title, like queen or empress. She is mother to some.”
“But not to you and Krala.”
“The Mother was thirdborn of our seethe,” Dral snarled, the green of his scales sparking light off the white of his teeth. His gaze shifted to Toli. “We will trade for it, Firstborn. If the stone is found, we will trade you for it. A fair trade.” He glanced at Krala. “We want it back.”
“You waste your time, Brother. It will never be found.”
Dral cringed, his head sinking toward the ice. “It pains me, Sister, to disagree with you. I will try to find the stone—to return it to its place of belonging.” He turned, lurching toward Toli. “We will bring you food,” he said, “in exchange for the stone. If you or your bone-bag brethren find it.”
Toli shook her head. “I don’t under—”
Krala gave a sigh that ended with a cough of flame. “If you must, but you must speak more slowly, Brother. It does not understand you.”
“We. Will. Bring. Food.”
“What food?”
“It does not matter what it is,” Krala hissed. “What matters, little bite, is that my brother says he will bring some. But I will give none of my own food.”
Toli wasn’t certain, but she thought she heard Dral snarl.
“I will give you enough to help your people not go hungry in the hiding season. It is a sacrifice I make … willingly.”
Toli narrowed her eyes. “If you have stored food to spare when you’re done hibernating, why don’t you eat it?”
“I will bring it. I did not say I had it now,” Dral muttered.
Krala chuckled and craned her scaled neck forward, her blue eyes narrowing. “It thinks it’s clever, Brother. A clever bite.” She turned away. “Come. Forget the stone.”
Dral ignored Krala’s words and lumbered forward until he stood right next to her. Shoulder to shoulder, they crowded out the sky. “If you find it,” Dral added, his eyes pinned to Toli, “you must keep it warm.”
Krala snarled at him, beating her wings. Dral’s taloned forelegs gouged the ice as he worked to stand his ground. The gust of wind carried the scent of dragon over Toli.
“And my mother?” Toli asked, lifting her chin as her heart fluttered in its cage. She held her breath. “What about our queen?”
Krala drew back. “Wise girl. Clever bone bag. Time will tell, but we will not.” She turned to make an awkward, skipping run across the ice, her heavy body lifting into the sky.
“How do you know I’ll help you find it?” Toli called to Dral.
He grinned as he too turned away. “We know because we are wise and clever also.” His green and copper feathers brushed the ice with something like affection as he left the ground. Toli could hear him chuckling as they melted back into the morning fog.