Page 19

When Leif did not respond, Wren asked, not taking her eyes from the creature: “What are you not telling me?”

“The dragon may have been following us from port town to port town,” the bard admitted. “I didn’t tell you—didn’t tell anyone—because I was concerned the dragon would draw attention to us. And us, in turn, would draw attention toit.”

“Him,” Wren corrected, stroking the dragon’s long nose. She could barely make out his unnatural eyes beneath the water, but they were watching her intently. “Trove is a male.” The name had been in her head ever since the dragon had saved her life.

She glanced over her shoulder at Leif. “You should have told me.”

Her friend rolled his eyes. “And have you expose us?”

“I thought you liked a little chaos.”

Leif sighed. “I do, but that dragon will be the end of us. He’s too conspicuous.”

He had a fair point, not that she’d let him know that.

“Keep watch,” Wren told Leif, turning her attention fully to Trove. A song escaped her lips, the hums and trills that only the dragon would understand. He growled into her hand, almost a purr, before closing his eyes. Wren ran both hands along his snout as far as she could go, struck with the insane desire to mount the beast once more and escape Verlanti forever.

Away from Arrik and the royal family and the rebellion and the ghost of her husband who would not let her be.

Leif’s hand on Wren’s shoulder brought her back to stark reality. There would be no escape today or in the coming weeks.

“We have to go,” he murmured, clearly uncomfortable with interrupting her song. Trove flicked open an eye and trained it directly at the bard, though he made no move to intimidate or attack him.

Leif was right. Running away would solve nothing. With a final stroke of Trove’s nose, she got to her feet, and the dragon melted into the sea as if he had never been there.

The urge to cry caught Wren’s breath in her throat. But she couldn’t. She had a job to do, and people to protect.

And Trove would be back.

She flashed a toothy grin at Leif, who eagerly matched it as she stepped out of the water and wrung out her cloak. “Let’s catch ourselves a pirate.”

8

WREN

“How does that dragon—Trove—keep finding us?” Leif asked between heaving breaths, his thin arms straining against the waves.

Wren glanced over her shoulder and grinned at her friend. When it had become clear they would not be able to access Gunn’s ship by sneaking on via the port, she’d made the suggestion that they simply swim to the ship instead. She was a strong swimmer, after all. Leif, it seemed, was not. Just like how Wren had struggled with scaling buildings when the rebellion first took her on.

Wren glanced out of the port toward the open sea and smiled. “I think Trove must like me,” she mused, cutting through the water like a seal.

“How much farther?” Leif gasped, choking on seawater as another wave passed them.

“We’re almost there.”

“You said that ten minutes ago,” he groused. “So wait…is the dragon bonded with you?”

Leif changed subjects at a dizzying pace. She kicked harder and smiled as she spotted a shadow of Trove pass beneath her. “He’s at least considering it.” The thought warmed Wren’s entire body. Which was saying something; the water they were treading was growing colder with every passing minute toward evening. She flicked a glance at Leif.

He offered her a tired smile and Wren’s grin grew. Only Leif would follow her into the ocean with a haphazard plan and swim with her for several hours. She’d been blessed with a wonderful friend.

She reached the ship and clung to the side as Leif caught up.

The bard studied the side of the ship, a frown shadowing his face while he caught his breath. “Well, since we have no dragon to fly us up on deck…how do you suggest getting on board? It isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”

“We use our daggers,” Wren explained, fishing beneath the water’s surface for the two weapons attached to her belt. “Don’t worry about stabbing through the hull. The wood is far too thick for our daggers to do much more than dent it.”

“If you’re sure…” Leif looked decidedly uncertain, but Wren had no doubt he’d follow her lead.