Keeping a baby dragon warm was the last thing Toli had expected to be doing. The two dragons hadn’t thought much of her intelligence, but she’d never been so happy to be underestimated. Thanks to Spar, she’d been taught long ago how to pay sharp attention, even through a cloud of fear. Thanks to her mentor, she had learned a lot from the dragons. More, she thought, than they had learned from her.
Toli gritted her teeth. While she’d been debating the dragons, the wind had risen, bringing in the squall she had noticed out on the ice. Their enormous winged bodies had provided a strange kind of shelter. Now that they were gone, cold raged against the sled, pushing the foxes back and tearing at her clothes. A thick layer of cloud made her wonder if Nya had yet risen. Surely the Daughter Moon had crested the horizon by now, but with the wind against them, she wasn’t sure they could make it back to the Queendom.
She could turn the sled over, drag the foxes inside, and shelter there until the fog cleared and the storm passed, or she could turn her back to the wind and make their way the short distance back to the cave.
She turned toward the caves.
Something Dral had said caught at her thoughts. They had taken the chrysalis because they were angry at the Mother, but there was more to it than that. Toli was sure of it. Dral seemed to think the Dragon-Mother would want it back, but why take it if they were just going to return it? Krala seemed just as determined to leave it in the snow as her brother was to return it. Yes, Toli thought, the chrysalis had value. It meant something to all of them, which meant she had leverage.
What if she took it back herself? What would the dragons give, Toli wondered, to have the chrysalis back again? Would the Dragon Queen return her mother if she explained how she had found it—that Krala and Dral had taken it—if she delivered it back safely?
The chrysalis might at least get her into the Mountain, and buy her time to find where they were keeping her mother.
Toli lifted her chin and glared at Dragon Mountain. It might not be a plan, exactly, but it was better than no idea at all. It was better than waiting. She would get her mother back—if it was the last thing she ever did.
It’s not about helping the Dragon-Mother, she told herself as she pulled to a stop outside the cave and gathered the bowl of coals and the small store of peat bricks out of the sled. It’s about getting our queen back.
Inside, she built a fire and placed the sack nearby. The flames were enough to warm the cave a few degrees and make the walls glisten. Torn between looking at the dragon again and ignoring it, Toli watched the bag.
She leaned down with a scowl and peeled back the furs from around the chrysalis. A flash of red scales. Toli pressed her lips together. Could it hear her? She glimpsed the gold shine of the dragon’s eyes following her movements. It could definitely see her.
What was it thinking in there? she wondered. It was probably as suspicious of her as she was of it.
She stared a moment longer, then flicked the furs back over the chrysalis and sank down on a blanket next to the fire.
There was no telling how long it would take for her to get all the way to Dragon Mountain. She had never even been as far as the deep ice fields, never seen the Necropolis, where the statues of the long-dead greeted Nya each morning—never spent a night on the ice. Still, she would return to the Queendom and prepare the sled as best she could.
If she told Pendar about what she’d found, would he change his mind and let them go get the queen? If she told Spar, would she bring Toli with her to the Mountain?
She couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk either of them saying no. Better to keep the chrysalis a secret, for now at least, until it was too late for them to stop her. The dragons had gotten the better of her for the second time. But this time, they hadn’t left her unconscious in the snow.
Storm light shown outside the cave. The light from Toli’s peat fire flickered against the slick walls. She eyed the sack that held the chrysalis as if it was plotting something.
“Dragons killed my father,” she told it, glaring. “Dragons took my mother.” She poked at the black brick on the fire with the tip of an arrow as she edged closer. “So don’t think for a second that I’m doing this to help you.” She flicked back the edge of the bag. A gasp stuck in her throat.
Thin cracks lanced across the red crystal. They spread as she watched, lacing the chrysalis like frost. Toli scuttled back with a cry, pressing her back to the cold sheen of the cave wall. The chrysalis shattered like splintering ice, and a slender, sparkling dragon the length of her arm slipped out. Its scales shone red as the aurora that streaked the winter sky. It shifted to its feet fast, shaking itself, ruffling the damp red and gold feathers at its neck.
It hissed at her.
Toli shook her head so hard, her vision blurred. This couldn’t be happening.
The dragon zipped closer, pausing to stretch her wings open and then close them.
“Stay away,” Toli hissed back, pressing herself against the ice.
The dragon paused, cocking her head as if she were listening to something far away. Her talons clicked against the ice as she hustled up the wall next to Toli, clinging to the ice above her, peering, upside down, into her face. An electric whiff of dragon washed over her.
Toli shot to her feet, hitting her head on the ceiling of the cave. Her breath came in short bursts. She stumbled away, but the dragon followed, faster than wind, across the cave floor. She scampered up Toli’s leg, her talons pressing hard but not quite piercing.
Toli yelped a curse, dancing and waving to break free. “Get off me!”
The dragon raced down again, cringing toward the fire, her golden eyes wide.
“Don’t come near me!”
The dragon shivered, fluttering her wings. They looked at each other, another shudder moving over the dragon’s body, bouncing light off her red scales. She blinked up at Toli.
Toli frowned. If the dragon died, she’d never get her mother back. She waved her hand at the baby. “You’re freezing. Get back in the furs. Go on.”
The dragon slunk around and nudged the now-gray husks of chrysalis out of the way. She whipped inside the sack, burrowing in among the furs until only her head poked out. Her eyes stared accusingly at Toli.
Toli fought the urge to stick her tongue out at it. “I suppose you’re hungry too,” she muttered, brushing her hands against her legs. “Never heard of a dragon that wasn’t.” She walked backward as she moved toward the front of the cave. “Well, I don’t have much. I wasn’t expecting to have to feed you. Just … just stay there.”
She gritted her teeth, walking faster. She’d left the sled just inside, where the foxes could be out of the wind. It was a good thing no one went out on the ice without emergency supplies—just some dried meat and a few mushrooms, but it would have to do.
As Toli leaned over the sled, a quiet voice at the back of her head whispered, What if it attacks you? She paused. Her hand shook as she hesitated over the handle of her long knife where it lay quiet in the belly of the sled. After a moment, she shrugged and picked it up, slipping it into the outer wrap of her boot. A child of the ice is prepared for anything.
The dragon was asleep, or pretending to be. Toli watched it for a while, then dumped the food on top of it and closed the sack. The dragon hissed in what Toli imagined was a questioning way.
“I can’t very well leave you here and pick you up on my way back,” she ground out. “Someone else could find you, and then what?” She picked up the sack, pinching the bridge of her nose with her other hand. Keeping an actual dragon a secret was going to be a lot harder than hiding a red stone, no matter how pretty it had been.
I don’t think I can do this, she thought, dropping her forehead into her hand and cradling it there. There was a strange kind of comfort in the gesture, like there was someone who would catch her when she fell, even if it was just herself, and only for a moment.
She glanced outside. The clouds had passed, and Nya was up. Time to go.
Toli lifted the sack over her shoulder, dragon and all, and dropped it into the deep pocket of her hood with a sigh. The dragon shifted, curling inside with a contented rattle. Toli climbed back in the sled and headed toward the walls of the Queendom, but she couldn’t help feeling as though, somehow, she had lost an argument she hadn’t even known she’d been having.
She traveled fast, stabled the foxes, and left the sled just outside the wall, hurrying toward the Great Hall. She needed to collect her belongings for the trek across the deep ice. Maybe in the privacy of her room she could at least hide the dragon under her bed for a time, or—
Toli stopped walking, tipping her head back to stare at the color-streaked sky. The problem was the same. The dragon could creep off and attack someone. Worse, someone might accidentally creep up on it, and then what? What if Petal found it? No. The dragon had to stay with her, where she could keep an eye on it.
“Where have you been?” a harsh voice spun her around.
“Spar—”
“Up and gone—where?” Spar rasped.
“Nowhere! I just … I was checking the caves for … for—”
Spar’s eyes narrowed as she pointed up at the morning sky. “Do you see what time it is?”
Toli lifted her face. Above them, blue and red streaks of light raced one another, weaving across the sky. Over the dark silhouette of Dragon Mountain in the distance, the green light of Father Moon’s rise cast a sickening pall over the ice.
“Dragon time,” Toli whispered. All the dragons would be awake now. She shivered. Somewhere out there, her mother was fighting to stay alive. The lights gleamed back at her, streaking the sky.
“Come with me.” Spar scowled. “We need to talk.”
Toli didn’t move. She didn’t have time for this. She had to pack the sled and go—had to get across the ice before any more dragons went searching. Still, she thought, Spar knew the ice better than anyone. If she told the hunt master about what she’d found, maybe Spar would help her, maybe—
“Still dreaming?” Spar spat. “Still thinking the dragons are just going to pop your mother back here like she’d been invited for tea?”
“No! Spar, listen—”
Spar leaned into Toli’s face. “If she’s alive, the queen is in the Mountain, with her.”
“You mean the Dragon-Mother.”
“Yes. And taking our queen—that’s a declaration of war.”
Spar’s footsteps crunched on the packed snow as she strode away, expecting Toli to follow.
“I—I can’t come with you right now.”
“Why not?”
“Toli!” Pendar’s voice cut through the frosty air. “Nya’s blessing, child, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
Spar’s jaw tightened, her eyes flashing.
Toli backed away from both of them, her heart racing. Please, Nya, let the dragon stay asleep.
“What do you want, Pendar?” Spar asked through gritted teeth.
“I have a plan.”
“You have a plan.”
I have one too, Toli thought. And it starts with getting this dragon out of the Queendom. Still, Toli paused despite herself. If Pendar had a real plan, maybe she wouldn’t have to go. Maybe everything would be okay. “What is it?”
Spar sneered. “Trust me, Princess, whatever it is isn’t worth your time. There is only one answer.”
Pendar ignored her. “The Tithing is tomorrow at moonset. If the queen hasn’t been returned to us, Spar and I, and a few of the other hunters, will go to meet them. We’ll give them the tithe, as usual—to show our respect. Then we’ll demand answers.”
Spar began to laugh, a high tight sound that put Toli on edge. She shook her head at Pendar, and began to edge away from them again. “Your plan is to … wait and ask them nicely?”
Toli didn’t have time to wait two days. She didn’t have one day. Her mother needed help now.
Pendar reached toward her. “Listen. We have no real information. We can’t make a decision until we do. Not with the Queendom at stake.”
Toli had stopped listening. It would likely take at least two days to reach the Mountain. Pendar could have his chat. She’d be long gone.
Spar’s black mood smoldered, dark as smoke and almost visible around her. Her burns seemed to glow in the cold, and her hair hung dark and lank across her shoulders. “Your plan is absurd,” she ground out. “I told you. There’s only one answer: We muster our best hunters. We go to the Mountain, and we kill the Dragon-Mother. We kill her, once and for all.” Spar’s words lurched Toli to a stop. She couldn’t be suggesting they go to war with the dragons.
Pendar’s brown skin darkened with rage. “You’re insane,” he growled.
Spar’s words had lurched Toli to a stop. She couldn’t be suggesting they go to war with the dragons. “We wouldn’t survive,” Toli whispered, her voice steadying. “It isn’t just her. There are hundreds of them, Spar! Maybe thousands!”
Spar’s eyes flashed. “Then we die, Anatolia,” she hissed. “But we take that vile worm with us.”
Toli’s mouth fell open. She met Pendar’s equally shocked gaze.
He turned his back on Spar. “Toli, I’m so sorry, the truth is, Toli … anyone—anyone goes to the Mountain, the chances are they won’t come back alive. Listen to me. You and I will take the Tithing—”
“No!” Toli and Spar said in unison.
“We must think our actions through. We must learn more,” Pendar pleaded.
Spar fisted her hands. “No tithe this year.” The hunt master moved past Pendar, reaching out as if to take Toli’s arm.
Toli drew away as the weight in her hood shifted. Her pulse fluttered in her neck and she bit down on the urge to cover it with her hand. She had to get out of there.
“Listen to me,” Spar said, moving with her as she backed up. “The moment they took Queen Una, our decision was made for us.” Spar held out her hands to her, imploring. “You are the acting queen now, Anatolia. I don’t care what promises you made to your mother. Some promises are made to be broken.”
“No,” Pendar said, his voice soft as new snow.
Toli moved toward the Hall, turned half toward Spar and Pendar as they followed behind.
“You can’t allow it, Anatolia,” Pendar continued. “It will be your death. The death of us all. You promised your mother you would listen to me.” He turned to Spar. “Hunt master—please. You’re … something’s wrong with you. You’re ill. You’re not making sense.”
“I have to go,” Toli whispered as the snow creaked under her feet. The dragon shifted again, sending a bolt of adrenaline through her. She had to get out of there before they saw the baby.
“Fools!” Spar ground out. “There are no more promises!” She pointed a calloused finger at Toli, and the embers of her amber gaze pinned Toli to the spot. “I’ll do what I can to keep you safe,” she snarled. “But wear your cloak—at all times. Don’t take it off. The scales will protect you from their fire. Did you know that?”
“I—”
“They will. Though Nya knows I hope you never need it.” She sucked in a sharp breath, lifting one hand to her forehead.
Toli noticed the hunt master’s hands were shaking.
She knew she couldn’t help her mentor. She needed to go. The dragon could wake at any moment. But worry for Spar crowded out her thoughts. “Is it … is it your burns?” she stammered.
Pendar’s face darkened. “Are you in pain, hunt master?”
Toli stepped closer, placing a hand on Spar’s arm. It was like stone. A heartbeat passed before Spar shook her off. “When does the ice forgive?”
“The ice never forgives,” Toli whispered, wishing she knew how to make things better.
“When does the ice forget?”
“The ice never forgets.” She intoned the words the hunt master had taught her, but her thoughts spun away. If she didn’t leave soon, she’d be stuck on the ice through the night. And if the dragon woke now—
“Will you bend the ice’s will?”
“It cannot bend. You will break trying.”
Spar’s hand reached up to touch the scars on her face. “Good. Then you’ll understand.”
Pendar huffed. “Understand what?”
Spar didn’t answer. The huntress stared into the distance, toward the sharp silhouette of Dragon Mountain. Her eyes glittered like ice in her scorched skin as she turned her head to study Toli. “If you won’t kill that creature, it will have to be me.” Spar paused. “It should be me.”
Toli’s voice stuck in her throat. “Wh-who? The dragon that took Mother?” She’d never seen Spar like this. Pendar was right. Something was wrong with her. The pain of her burns, and of all that had happened, had affected her mind. “We … we can’t just kill her. How will you even know which one it is?”
Spar grinned, her eyes fever-bright. “Perhaps we’ll end them all.”
Toli shook her head numbly. Hating the dragons was one thing. Protecting her people from them—saving her mother—all those she could defend, and would, and in doing so, find some measure of justice for her father.
But attacking a mountain full of dragons, young and old, and trying to what? Wipe them from the face of Ire? It wasn’t just murder. It was a death wish for every man, woman, and child in Gall.
Her knuckles tightened on her bow. She had to get away from here. The weight of the dragon pulled at her. Given the chance, Spar would kill her, and Toli would lose whatever small power having it gave her. She looked at the two of them, and the truth hit her like the snap of a cord breaking. She might never see them again.
She took in Spar—with her shoulders thrown back, confident—and Pendar’s gentle eyes. She spun without a word, unable to look at either of them any longer. Her feet pounded the ice like drums as she ran for the Great Hall. They both meant well, but she was done lying to herself—done listening to ridiculous threats and unacceptable promises. Saving her mother was up to her. She was on her own.