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“Do you think we can fly through it?”

My stomach swoops.

Tarasque tilts upward, following an invisible command by Talan. My stomach plummets, and I’m sure I’m about to topple off, pulled by gravity and buffeted by the wind, but Talan’s strong arms tighten around me. Somehow, he keeps a firm grip on the dragon, as if he’s a part of her. We shoot through the gap he indicated, and Tarasque steadies herself, her wings beating lazily. Now, instead of the earthy patchwork blanket, only white clouds are below us.

“How are you telling her what to do?” I ask when I get my breath under control.

“I lean the right way and touch her neck in certain locations. Mostly, it’s a personal form of communication. No two dragons are alike.” He takes my hand and presses it to Tarasque’s scales. “Feel that?”

“That sort of bulge beneath her scales?”

“Yes. Press it lightly and lean to your right.”

I obey, muscles tensing as I shift. Tarasque follows my command, veering right with powerful grace, her wings slicing through the air. A laugh escapes me. I’ve never felt anything like this freedom and untamed sense of power.

Tarasque dives again, cutting through the clouds. We sweep lower over the city of Corbinelle, the wind tearing at my hair as we soar above the clustered homes that nestle along cobbled roads and follow the winding river.

We head back to the Lost Palace, and I know the rush of the ride is coming to an end. As much as I want to stay up here forever, in the dark recesses of my mind, I know it can’t last.

And the moment we touch down, I need to find my allies before Talan does.

CHAPTER 23

In the palace’s stone garden, I pace back and forth, taking care to keep my expression serene and meditative and hiding my inner turmoil. Guards are watching my every move, and it won’t do for them to see the princess worried.

Nivene is late for our meeting, which is making my thoughts race. I arrived here exactly at noon like she asked, and she’s never late. The woman has a weird fetish for punctuality, but worse than that, something about her coded message, the brevity of it, the sharp, frantic strokes, suggested panic.

And now, my mind keeps conjuring horrifying images: Nivene, caught spying by Talan’s forces, already dragged into the dungeon, tied to a rack of some kind. Maybe she’s not far from where I’m standing, screaming out every secret. My stomach twists. What if she’s already dead? I glance at the shadows on a stone sundial. Half past noon already. Half an hour. She’sneverthis late.

“Nia!”

I whirl to see her running toward me, her red hair cascading over a green cloak. She’s smiling at me, but there’s somethingfake about her grin. I know her well enough to read the subtle tension in her face.

She joins me, breathless, “Sorry I’m late. I was in the market and didn’t notice the time. I bought us some nice apples for our morning walk.”

I accept a bright red apple from her and look over my shoulder to make sure the guards aren’t lingering too close. “What’s going on?” I whisper, taking care to keep my face expressionless.

She wraps an arm over my shoulders, resting her head against mine in what must look like an affectionate gesture. “I can’t get in touch with Meriadec,” she whispers. “No one knows where he is.”

A cold knot tightens in my stomach. “Maybe something happened, and he had to go into hiding.”

“Somethingdefinitelyhappened. He’s disappeared from the farm, but Meriadec would have left a message if it had been planned, and there’s nothing. He’s been worried lately with Talan closing in on them. And he thought they might have a mole within the resistance.”

I flinch at the thought. “If that’s true, we’re both fucked.”

She shakes her head. “Only Meriadec and Brados know who we are,” Nivene says, naming the owner of The Shadowed Thicket. “No one else within the resistance knows. Ever since we gave them the warning, they’ve stayed the fuck out of Brados’s tavern, but Talan might have worked out the connection at this point.”

“And what do you know about the mole?”

“Meriadec was investigating it before he disappeared,” Nivene says, “but he didn’t think that was related to Talan’s hunt. He also didn’t think the mole was working with the king.”

I frown. “Who, then?”

She takes a bite from her apple and glances back. “He thought Arwenna.”

I stare at the ground to hide my expression from those looking. “Well, fuck. Talan said she’s been missing lately, too. And Maertisa mentioned her name, that she was right about me.”

“If Arwenna has Meriadec, she probably took him to one of her father’s castles,” Nivene says. “The Marquis de Bosclair is one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom. A close ally of the other marquis, Talan’s cousin Lumos. I’m sure he’d love to get his hands on the resistance leader to protect his own position. And obviously, if there’s any chance to connect the rebels to you, they’ll take it.”