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Dropping down, we scan the area through the midday light for any hint of danger.

Nothing.

Only the whisper of leaves and the slow crawl of shadows on the swiftly flowing river.

“Isn’t this how the dragons reacted the day the drachen attacked?” Bastian’s low voice is full of trepidation.

“Yes. Though he wasn’t as terrified now as he was then.”

A shiver races up my spine as I peer at every shadow. Fire shimmers underneath my skin, ready to burst forth if one of them begins pulsing and oozing into an impossibly huge, distorted shape.

“Let’s move. I don’t like being in a land where things are seen or unseen depending on the whims of a dead civilization.” Blair keeps his voice low and his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Bastian, carry Leesa. We’ll take turns carrying her back to the palace, but we need to leave now.”

“If our wings work.” Agnar stretches his wings out, then launches himself into the sky.

Thankfully, he stays in the air. Whatever magic that kept us grounded in the city must not extend outside its bounds.

Bastian lifts Leesa effortlessly into his arms, her slender figure secure against his chest. Agnar takes point, leading the way with Blair trailing close behind. After taking a final glance at the boat, which is once again moored and pointed toward the Lost City, I spring into the air.

The clear, open skies give no hint of danger. In the distance, heading south, the black shape of Kaida grows smaller as he flies ahead of us.

We continue like this, leapfrogging across the landscape. Each time we land in order to change carriers for Leesa, my skin prickles. As the sun lowers and the shadows darken, my muscles ache with fatigue, hands clenching and unclenching in restless anticipation.

By the time the spires of the palace of Tirene pierce the horizon, night has fully descended. Its lofty towers stand guard over the capital, windows aglow with warm light. Reaching out with my mind, I can sense the emotions of many of the dragons. Except Kaida.

He didn’t fly to the paddock? Why? Where did he go?

But that’s not a question I can answer until he returns. The guards on the towers note our arrival and signal. They direct us to a well-lit balcony in the king’s wing, manned by a guard in full regalia.

“Crown Prince Knox is waiting for you in his apartments.”

I have to wonder if he was expecting us back at this hour, or if he simply left word for us to find him upon our return. Either way, I’m certain he’ll be awake by the time we get to him.

I dip my chin in gratitude. “Thank you. We know the way.”

Blair snorts but doesn’t say anything as he sets Leesa down. Together, we step into the grandeur of the palace halls. The guards don’t question our haggard group as we trudge through the ornate corridors, but their eyes linger with silent queries. Sterling’s chambers are deep within the heart of the palace.

As I feared, he’s not only awake at this late hour, but it’s clear he hasn’t been to bed.

He’s in his formal sitting room, hunched over a mass of papers on the table. A line of squires waits in the corner to run his orders as soon as they’re written.

His expressive dark brown eyes light up as we walk in, and they linger on me longer than anyone else. I want to sprint over, wrap my arms around his body, and kiss him into oblivion.

First, though, I need to report our bizarre experiences in the Lost City.

ChapterTwelve

Sterling shoos the squires out, telling them they can reconvene tomorrow.

Once they’re gone, I drop down beside him on the couch and divulge everything we saw and experienced. Including the way the city was disguised from the air and the fear I sensed from Kaida.

“All of that sounds hard to believe, yet you all saw it.” His frown carves deeper lines into his weary face. “But phoenixes? I’ll consult with the council tomorrow. They may know something more than basic myths and legends.” He rests a hand on my knee, his skin warming me.

“We already plan to extend our search of the Royal Archives.” Bastian perches himself on the edge of his chair. “If there’s a trace left of them, I’ll find it, Your Highness.”

Sterling sighs. “Please don’t call me that in private.” He sweeps a hand at Blair and Agnar. “These two don’t count. Being around them is much like being around horses. Particularly ugly horses.”

Bastian raises his eyebrows, his gaze darting to the couch the two besmirched men are sprawled out on. This time, I don’t bother to suppress my laughter.