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A stage is created for us in the center of the square. Bets are being made, all on the dragon. Meguh’s twelve servants gather, holding thick iron chains as they prepare to unbolt the dragon.

Someone thrusts a scythe into my hand. It’s a clumsy weapon. I would have much preferred a spear or a dagger, but no one except King Meguh was expecting to see a duel today, so it’s the best I am offered.

I prepare my stance, fix my gaze on my opponent. His wings are folded in front of his face, obscuring it. I want to see his eyes when he’s let free, to see if he is a prisoner like the vipers or Meguh’s champion, as the king brags. No matter. Either way I will not hold back. I will win.

The cage door falls upon the earth with a deafening thud.

And the battle for my sister begins.

CHAPTER TEN

Across the square, the dragon’s great wings unfurl, blanketing me in their shadow. I ignore the gasps that echo behind me. No one in Sundau has ever seen a dragon—the giant lizards in the jungle that prey on monkeys and goats and snakes may be called dragons, but they are not the fabled serpents of sea and sky.

I get my first good look at my opponent. He has the face of a dragon—wildly unkempt eyebrows and crooked horns—along with a winding tail, but he stands like a human, with two arms and legs clothed in coarse cotton. The crowd begins to chant, “Dragon! Dragon!” Yet there is something rather un-dragon-like about him. Unfortunately, this is not the time to decipher what.

I focus on finding a weakness. Sapphire-green scales ripple across his limbs and torso. The colors are like the sea at dawn, when the sun tickles the waters with light fresh from Heaven. Even their beauty is a weapon; they stipple his flesh, making it difficult to pin down a vulnerable spot. His wings are fearsomely long, spiked along the edges, and webbed like a bat’s.

I can tell what Meguh—what everyone—is thinking. That I’m a scrawny, pathetic girl. No match for his prize dragon.

I can’t help thinking the same.

We circle each other. My mind’s never worked so fast, trying to pick out his weaknesses and strengths. His left leg is shackled to his cage, which will slow him down. Speed is on my side, then. I fix my gaze upward at his chest, marred by scars of all colors, at all stages of healing. Then I look at his arms, curiously inked with lines of script. Then at his eyes, with their broken pupils and mismatched colors. One limpid blue, one fiery red. So divergent they might as well be on opposite poles of the world.

I’m unconsciously matching the rhythm of his gait, and once I realize it, I mutter an inward curse. The crowd’s making bets on how long I’ll last, not whether I’ll win. Right now, the wager’s a minute. Two, if we keep circling each other like this.

I resent these odds.

The dragon’s red eye flickers, the only warning I have before he flies forward.

I swing the scythe, and the curved blade sings as it arcs through the air. But I don’t even get close. I was wrong about his speed. Even with his leg shackled, the dragon’s startlingly fast. He darts about like lightning, bursting from the darkness in shocks of shadow and light.

More bets go on the dragon’s side. Meguh wears an oily grin.

Stop looking at Meguh! I yell at myself. Focus!

The dragon’s wing strikes from behind. I’ve been punched before, slapped and knocked off my feet by beast and man, but nothing prepares me for the staggering force of his wing against my back. I’m flying forward, hot wind whipping the air, villagers scrambling to get out of my way.

I fall against a merchant’s cart. For a second, I can’t feel my spine, can’t breathe. My chest burns. Breathe. I dig my nails into my thighs, summoning my grit. Fight.

For Vanna.

I pull myself up. The dragon’s already waiting, one wing outstretched, as if in invitation, and one thick eyebrow lifted. He must have thought I was so inferior that one strike would end me. But I sense that he’s reassessing my skills. I know that if I were him, I’d want to draw out the fight so I wouldn’t have to go back into that cage.

My blood would even out this battle, but with Meguh watching, I’m reluctant to reveal that valuable secret of mine. I wonder if the dragon can smell my poison. Maybe he knows how deadly my blood is, that a drop will sear even his thick hide. Maybe that’s why he’s keeping his distance.

I only have two advantages: I am small, and I am not chained. Against a lesser foe, this might make a difference, but he is far stronger than I am, and far larger. His wings give him an unfair reach, and his scales are a natural shield.

“Fight!” the crowd chants, growing bored of us circling each other. “Fight!”

Meguh’s guards draw their swords, pushing the dragon deeper into the arena. I keep my distance, still watching. Always know your enemy before attacking, Ukar has told me a thousand times. Chances of success are multiplied with wisdom.

The guards jab their swords toward the dragon again, and I seize the chance to launch at him, angling my scythe at the fleshy part of his side.

The dragon spins to deflect my blade, his wings crashing down on my back. I dive, skidding forward in the dirt, and deliver a thwack to his ankle with the butt of my scythe.

He stumbles, and I shoot to his flank. I bring down my weapon with a heavy blow and a low roar from my throat. But my scythe scrapes earth instead of dragon. He’s so fast I catch only a flash of teeth, hooked like a snake’s, before he pivots away, wings throwing me to the side.

I land on a bent knee, my breath going out in a cough.