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“I’ll pay you double.”

“Katerina.” He sighs. “You know I would for you. But I can’t. I have to get the supplies from the council, first. And I don’t have much to give, myself.”

My heart sinks. It leaves me no other choice.

“I have something else,” I whisper as I pull out the stone and present it to him.

Willard sucks in a breath and takes a step back, his hand covering his open mouth.

I flinch at his response and glance back down at the stone, confirming I didn’t pull out a decapitated head instead.

“Where did you get that?” His voice is tight.

I inch forward and offer it to him.

He hesitates. Cautiously, he takes the stone from me and inspects the surface with a gentle stroke.

“I found it—”

He shoves the stone back into my chest, and my breath wooshes out.

“Never mind! Don’t answer that.” His hand shaking, he points at the door. “Return it at once. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t show anyone.”

“Willard—”

He vigorously shakes his head, his lips tight and eyes wild. If I didn’t think Willard was pale before, he’s definitely pale now.

“Go!” His voice trembles as much as his hands do.

My heart hammers in my ears, and I’m frozen where I stand. What am I supposed to do?

“I said go, Katerina,” he grits out.

Stunned at his uncharacteristically severe voice, I step back and out of the shop. In the few seconds before the door closes between us, his voice drops to a whisper.

“You shouldn’t have shown me that.”

four

TRAPPED

My mind reels with each step taking me closer to home. The clamor of the busy main street falls away to silence as I leave Padmoor. The quiet secludes me within my own thoughts. I find myself ruminating over the intensity of Willard’s tone. Perhaps he was drunk. Maybe he was mistaken.

Or maybe I’m the one mistaken, and this is a bad idea.

But Willard instructed me to return the stone where I found it, and I’m too far from Padmoor now to report it to the council. Besides, if it isn’t a stone, what would a dragon egg be doing out here?

Maybe it’s a fancy riverstone and Willard thought I stole it out of desperation, and he wants me to return it before someone realizes it’s gone. In the solitude of the rolling grass-dusted hills around me, I peek in my satchel’s opening. The stunning black stone shines, my fingers edging toward it as if bewitched to touch it…

I rip back my hand and snap the bag shut, before tossing a glance over my shoulder at the distant outline of Padmoor.

I’ll report it to the council tomorrow.

In the meantime, I’ll prepare a new fishing trap. As soon as I get home, I slink into our outdoor shed for materials. My gaze lingers on my mother’s dusty bow-and-arrow hanging on the wall.

If only archery skills were genetic.

If they were, I’d be gifted enough to be an archer for the military. Like my mother was. Maybe even skilled enough to be an archer for the King. The pay alone would cover our medication and food costs. I brush my fingertip down the bow’s string, a line of dust coats my skin. All I need is time to practice.