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The sand dragon stables reeked of dust, straw, manure, and, weirdly enough, saffron oil.

“Calms ’em down, it does,” the stable owner told us when Halek made a comment about the odd yet delightfully fragrant smell

in the air. “Any dragon owner worth his spit will keep a few jugs on hand at all times. The ones that don’t? Well...” The

lean, bald little man with the jagged scar across his skull held up his right hand, which was missing the last two digits.

“They’re either missing more fingers than me, or they’re dead.

“Now, don’t you worry,” he went on, as Halek cast a concerned look at the stable of snorting, growling lizards. “I rub a fingerful

of oil under their nostrils every morning, so any dragon you get from me will probably not take your arm off that first day.

After that, however...” He shook his bald head. “I wouldn’t turn my back on ’em, for any reason. Luckily, my special pots

of calming oil are for sale, if you want to arrive at your destination with all your limbs still attached to your body.”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Raithe said, though Halek looked ready to jump on the man’s offer. I wondered if the Fatechaser was

aware of just how expensive real saffron oil was. A tiny carafe sold for a small fortune on the streets of Kovass. “We appreciate

the warning,” Raithe went on, “but we’ll take our chances.”

“Eh, your fingers, not mine.” The stable owner shrugged and shuffled toward the stalls, grabbing a pair of lead ropes as he did.

“Quite the salesman,” I said in a low voice to the other two. “I bet he makes more money from fake saffron oil than he does

selling lizards.”

“Almost certainly,” murmured Raithe with the hint of a smile. He hadn’t said anything about our incident in the temple courtyard

earlier. Both to my relief and disappointment, he acted as if nothing had happened between us. “Fortunately, sand dragons

are not quite as dangerous as he makes them out to be,” Raithe went on, “though you do have to be somewhat on your guard around

them. Watch their eyes—if the pupils dilate and constrict rapidly, they’re feeling aggressive and ready to bite. But they’re

usually only irritable when they’re hungry, or if a female is in season.”

Halek chuckled. “Well, that’s most males,” he remarked.

The stable owner returned leading two large sand dragons, one with dark brown scales and a creamy white underside, the other

pale yellow with black spots mottling its back and tail. Both had impressive horns that curved back from their broad skulls

and sharp, jagged teeth poking from their blunt muzzles.

“Two males, like you wanted,” the owner said, though Raithe had told me most dragon stables sold only males, because having females around riled them up considerably.

“These are two of my calmest,” the bald man told us, with a wink in my direction, “seeing as we have a pair of new riders. They’re not the fastest, but they should get you across the steppes in one piece.

Hopefully.” He gave me the hint of a knowing smirk.

“Sure you don’t want a pot of calming oil?

Just in case this one gets that look in his eye?

” He patted the yellow dragon in an almost affectionate manner.

“Dragon teeth are serrated, you know. They do more damage coming out than they do going in.”

I smiled back. “I think we’ll get along.”

Raithe retrieved his own mount, a jet-black sand dragon with vivid yellow stripes and a hard, red-eyed stare that made me

very nervous. I watched him swing gracefully into the saddle, then turned to my own lizard, peering intently at its eyes.

The slitted pupils seemed normal, but then again, what was normal for a sand dragon? Taking the chance that it wouldn’t immediately

turn around and sink its fangs into my backside, I put one foot in the leather stirrup and heaved myself into the saddle.

The dragon huffed beneath me, scratching the ground with its talons, but that was all.

“Good, good,” the stable owner called behind me. “That’s how you do it. Don’t be nervous,” he went on, as I looked to Raithe

to see what to do next. “They can smell fear.”

Raithe gave an approving nod that warmed my insides and turned his mount away. “Let’s go,” he told me and Halek, who seemed

to be struggling a bit with his dragon. His mount was tossing its head and pawing at the ground, making him grab frantically

for the reins. “Kysa should be waiting for us at the north gate,” Raithe went on, moving steadily away. “We have to get through

the pass and to the first shelter before Demon Hour, so we don’t have a lot of time to waste.”

“Easy for you to say,” Halek said, as his dragon snorted and shook its head vigorously, making the reins jingle. “I think I got the broken one.”

I gave my dragon a tap with my heels, and it started forward, easing into a long, loping walk that was surprisingly smooth.

We left the dragon stables and headed toward the wall of mountains looming high overhead, and the city of Damassi soon faded

behind us.

A familiar silhouette in sleek black armor waited for us at the city gates. She stood off the main road, leaning casually

against Rhyne, who lay like an enormous shiny boulder in the dirt, his horn jutting into the air. Most passersby noticed her—it

was hard not to see a beetle the size of a cart lying a few yards off the main road—but when they did, they quickly averted

their gaze. As we approached, a pair of well-dressed aggressive-looking young men spotted her and elbowed each other with

sly grins. But when Kysa raised her head and stared at them dead-on, they quickly seemed to lose interest and hurried away.

Kysa’s hard stare turned into a smile as she saw us, and she pushed herself off Rhyne, raising an arm in greeting. The beetle

stayed where he was, as immovable as a mountain.

“I received another message from my clan,” the insect rider said as Raithe pulled his mount to a halt beside her. “The dust

storms that blow across the steppes are volatile this season. If we are to reach Carapace Basin safely, we should hurry. However,

I do know a few places we can duck into if the winds turn against us.”

“We leave it to you, Kysa,” Raithe said solemnly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Just remember that our mounts don’t fly,” Halek added with a grin.

Kysa nodded and gave a short whistle that caused Rhyne to heave himself to his feet and lumber over. I noticed several satchels,

trunks, and saddlebags piled on his back and hanging from his saddle. It looked like about twice as much as our sand dragons

were carrying, yet Rhyne didn’t seem to notice the weight at all. “The journey across the steppes to Carapace Basin will take

three days,” Kysa told us, leaping gracefully atop her mount. “I hope you have everything you need, because you will not find

it out there.”

The north gate loomed before us, and beyond the gatehouse, the wall of the Stoneshard Mountains soared into the air, steep

and treacherous. Two guards at the entrance watched silently as we rode our dragons beneath the gate; one of them gave Kysa

a short nod, which she returned. Beyond the gate, a narrow pass cut through the jagged cliffs and snaked out of sight.

Halek craned his neck back, staring at the strip of sky above the pass. We had left the temple while it was still full dark,

but now the heavens had turned pink, and the stars were fading.

“Solasti is coming,” he said. “And I don’t suppose the pass is any cooler during Demon Hour than the rest of the world.”

“Actually, it’s worse,” Kysa said. She turned toward Halek with a small smile and gestured at the red-tinted cliffs on either

side. “When Demon Hour comes, those walls radiate heat. It’s like being inside a brick oven. Not something you want to experience.”

“Ah no,” Halek corrected her with a raised finger. “Again. It’s not something I want to experience again. I’ve already been broiled once by the twins on this journey—twice would turn me into a piece of shriveled jerky.” He shook

his head, a pained look crossing his face. “I have never wanted to die so much before my time, and that’s coming from a Fatechaser

who once fell into a nest of fire centipedes.” He grimaced and shot a glance at Raithe. “If that happens again, iylvahn, I

just might have to take you up on your previous offer. If we get caught in Demon Hour again, to clarify. Not the fire centipedes.

Though getting bitten by a dozen fire centipedes is not pleasant, either, let me tell you.”

“We’re better supplied this time,” Raithe said, as I shivered with the memory. Lying on the Dust Sea with Raithe and Halek,

slowly burning away as we waited to die. “We know what we’re walking into,” he went on. “It won’t be like Kovass.” His gaze

went to me, and the look in those pale blue eyes made my breath catch. “I won’t let us be caught like that again, I promise.”

“Can your... lizards move any faster?” Kysa inquired, as if she was trying hard to be diplomatic. “I know most landbound

creatures cannot match a rock beetle’s flight speed, but can they at least trot?”

Halek’s laugh rose into the air and echoed off the rising peaks. “I think our good insect rider has just disparaged our mounts,”

he said, as his own dragon snorted and rolled its eyes back at him. “Shall we see how fast these lizards can run?” He grinned

at us, eager and challenging. “Race you both to the bend in the road. Loser takes care of the other dragons for the whole

trip.”

I grinned back, but Raithe nudged his dragon forward with a sigh, making us pause. “I think you’re both forgetting something,” he said, casting a serious look over his shoulder. Halek frowned, expecting to be chastised.

“And what’s that, iylvahn?”

The shadow of a grin went through those pale eyes. “Never bet against a kahjai,” he said, and kicked his dragon hard in the

ribs. The black lizard leaped forward with a snarl, leaving behind a cloud of dust as it skittered into the pass.

“Hey!” I yelled.