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D ramour’s eyes slitted. “Are you joking? You are, aren’t you, Vahl?”

“I’m not.” She pointed to her burned leg. “I do love a good laugh, but I wouldn’t scorch my leg off to sell a prank, my friend.”

Ibai hurried to check out her leg. She waved him away. “The elf needs your help more than me. Come on.” She limped out the door and pointed. “He’s there. Hopefully, still on the horse.”

She followed Nix and the rest toward the spot where she’d left the elf and Etor. “Stones.”

The elf lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious, and all that was left of the horse was a torn bridle.

“Horses don’t love dragons,” Nix explained.

“I suppose losing a horse is the least of his problems,” Vahly said. “What would push an elf to brave the marshes?”

Nix rushed inside to close the cider house down. Her coaxing and singing rang through the night.

“ Spend a night or two without her,

See your love grow harder … ”

Dragons poured from the door, laughing and shouting praises to Nix. A few voiced their willingness to test Nix’s song upon return.

Ibai and Kemen stood shoulder to shoulder to block Vahly and the elf from view, even though most of the dragons leaving wouldn’t be bothered to check the far side of the cider house. They headed for their hideouts in the city of thieves—tunnels and homes carved into high ridge.

When the place was cleared, the dragons helped Vahly to one of the gaming tables. Then, Kemen hauled the elf inside and plopped him on the bar top.

Nix rubbed her hands together. “We are going to find out what made this elf risk the marshes. And maybe, if we’re lucky for once in our Blackwater forsaken lives, he’ll know all about your scroll and your dozing powers.”

Ibai was already emerging from the storage room with a mortar, pestle, and three bunches of herbs. “We don’t know that anything we do will work on this thing.”

“He is not a thing.” Vahly winced as Kemen poured clean water over her burn.

Kemen snorted. “I didn’t know you were into elves,” he said, his voice nearly too low to be understood.

“I’m not into elves. But I’m not an arse. He is a highbeast like me and like you.”

Ibai shuffled over and handed Kemen a small crock. Kemen’s scarred fingers were gentle as he applied a paste of honey, aloe, and brazenberries on Vahly’s wound.

“I respect that runaway horse more than I do his master,” Kemen mumbled.

“Just because dragons warred with elves ages ago? Or is there another reason?” Vahly honestly did not understand their prejudice.

“Wait until the creature opens his mouth. Then you’ll be on our side again,” Dramour said, bringing Vahly a cup of water to drink.

“Now, why did you leave without us? Nix has told us everything and we are behind you, Vahly. Although we do wish it had less to do with those.” He snarled in the direction of the elf.

The water cooled Vahly’s scorched throat. “I didn’t leave without you. I just heard the elf calling out. I went to help.”

The corner of Dramour’s mouth lifted. “A queen indeed.”

“What do you mean? Nix, what does he mean?”

“None of us,” Nix said, fingering the ruby necklace at her throat, “would head into the marshes to rescue a creature shouting in a foreign tongue. We are good to our fellow Call Breakers. That’s it.”

But they had accepted her, a human, into their makeshift clan.

Vahly decided not to push it. They would care for the elf because he might be able to save them a trip to the Forest of Illumahrah.

It didn’t matter what they would have done under other circumstances.

Finding the answer to Vahly’s power was all that mattered.

If they ever subdued the Sea Queen, then they could argue about the rest of it.

Ibai stuffed a woven sack with the herbs he’d crushed, then held it to the elf’s nose.

Nothing.

“He might be dead,” Nix said.

Kemen crossed his arms and clicked his tongue. “No. His chest moves. Wait. No. Yes, he is dead.”

Vahly came out of her chair, her wound forgotten.

Dramour snatched the herbs from Ibai and sniffed, his green nostrils flaring. “I would die too if you stuck your sack up my nose.” He lowered the bag. “Someone, please. Make a joke about that. Come on. You cannot let that one pass. Anyone?”

Vahly grabbed the elf’s surcoat and shook him hard. This elf could be the answer to everything. “You are not allowed to die, elf. I saved you. You have to get my permission to die!”

Dramour leaned on the bar and pointed a thumb at Vahly. “I love her more every day.”

Ibai clapped his hands, startling Vahly so that she jumped. “I have an idea,” he said. His mottled, blue-green wings fluttered behind him as he rushed into the storage area. “No one do anything. Keep your hands off.”

“Still begging someone for a joke, here.” Dramour blinked pleadingly at Vahly. “You know you want to.”

“Want to what?”

“Keep your hands on —”

“Shut up, Dramour,” Nix and Vahly said in unison.

Banging sounded from the room, then Ibai ran out, holding blacksmith bellows. “Hold his mouth open and his chin back, Kemen.”

Ibai fit the end of the bellows into the elf’s mouth, then compressed the goat skin contraption.

The elf was standing, and the bellows—as well as Ibai and Kemen—were on the ground before Vahly could blink.

He was magnificent.

His black eyes scanned the room and took in each of them, including Vahly.

He uttered a phrase in what Vahly guessed was elvish, his bow-shaped lips quick.

His voice was dark and melodious, like the six-foot high stringed instruments the dragons played when battle units returned for respite.

A well-worn bow strapped to his back, painted in charcoal shades of gray, peeked from the top of one shoulder, and his quiver remained on his belt.

Five black and silver fletched arrows sat inside.

Nix held back Ibai and Kemen. The males were a touch unhappy at being flung to the floor. Nix kept a hand on each as she said three words to the elf in his language.

The elf’s arms fell to his sides. His posture relaxed somewhat.

“I told him we are friends,” Nix said, “not foe. And that I don’t speak his language past this.”

He bowed to Nix, then to Vahly, and Vahly almost missed his next words as she marveled at his movements.

It was fascinating to see a creature so like her speak and gesture.

Though he was an elf and had flesh far stronger than her own, he still appeared incredibly fragile compared to dragons.

She couldn’t even guess how terribly weak she seemed—and indeed was—when studied by dragons.

But seeing this elf, so like her in ways that dragons were not…

“My name is Arcturus,” he said in dragon. “Please tell me what is happening. My mind is addled, from injury or foul play, I don’t know.”

Vahly coughed. “I found you in the Fire Marshes. You passed out. From the gases, most likely. I’m pretty sure you died.”

Dramour held up his first two fingers. “Just a little bit.”

“And you helped me regain my consciousness?” Arcturus watched Ibai and Kemen as Nix let them step forward.

Vahly worried they might decide they liked him better dead, so she got between them. “Yes, they did. These two are healers. Well, Ibai is and Kemen is his helpful brother. Would you like to sit down?” She gestured toward the chair she’d been sitting in.

He nodded and took the seat. “I can’t remember why I went into the marshes. You’re quite certain you found me there? Is your mind addled as well?”

“I’m fine. And yes, it was in the Fire Marshes. I don’t think I could mix that place up with anywhere else.” Vahly fought the urge to glare.

Dramour elbowed her. “Now you’re seeing the parts no one likes. Supreme pigheadedness. Ultimate arrogance. I remember an elf I met during a trade when I was five and fifty.”

“Shut it down, Fine Eye,” Nix barked.

Dramour nodded. “No problem.”

Arcturus looked at the open door, then lifted his head and cocked his sharp chin. “Someone tricked me. Someone close to me.”

Ibai made a face. “The gases of the marsh took you down. That’s why your head’s not straight.”

“You are wrong. This feeling is more than natural injury.”

“Super delightful, aren’t they? Still taking his side?” Dramour whispered.

“I apologize for my tone, Healer,” Arcturus said.

Ibai stuttered, obviously flustered at the show of respect.

“Do you think you were followed? Should we guard ourselves?” Vahly put a hand on her sword hilt. If a band of elves stormed the cider house…

Nix slid a mug of cider in front of Arcturus, then glanced at the side door. Smoke spun from her nose in warning.

“I don’t think so,” Arcturus said. “The wind only hints at foul play.” He scooted away from the table and headed toward the door. “Thank you for rescuing and healing me, dragons, Earth Queen.”

He didn’t know anything about the current problems on the island if he was calling her that.

She pointed at her Blackwater mark. “This is a mistake. I don’t have any power.

The Sea Queen is actually about to take over every bit of land and kill us all.

That’s why I was in the Fire Marshes. I was planning a trip to visit your kynd to find answers.

I thought maybe you would know about human rituals of power. ”

Arcturus furrowed his brow. “I … I don’t know.

I can’t remember…” He looked up, suddenly fierce like he’d been when he first awoke under Ibai’s ministrations.

“You see? I should know all about my kynd and this threat to all of us. But there is a blank place in my memory, and what is there … it’s twisted.

A strong elf has set foul magic upon me.

I must leave and attempt to discover who wishes me ill.

If I recover my full capabilities, I can perhaps fight the sea folk and aid you, Earth Queen.

” He stopped at the door and whispered elven words into the air.

“What are you doing? Ibai, maybe he needs another herbal remedy to clear his head.”

“I’m calling my horse.”