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E lowen didn’t know dragons could cry. As soon as she asked Ash to be her dragon companion, he pulled her into a hug and moisture fell onto her shoulder. It wasn’t from the trees this time.

Ash insisted on at least exchanging tokens to mark the occasion, since they had no time or resources for a proper companion ceremony. He scratched his name into a strip of birch bark, and Elowen tucked it next to the golden coin. She pulled out a blue ribbon from her pack and tied it around his back ankle, hoping it would stay on during his transformation. It had belonged to her mother, and she’d been saving it to wear when confronting the trolls—something to give her courage—but now she would have Ash by her side.

As they took to the air, Elowen’s heart felt lighter than it had since Cedar had been kidnapped. Perhaps the fairy’s gift might be a good one after all.

After about an hour, before Elowen had a chance to get good and truly chilled, the rain began again. Ash pressed on until the lightning flashed too close to be comfortable. He landed near an overflowing stream, and they sheltered underneath a rocky outcrop larger than any Elowen had ever seen in her flatter homeland. Had they passed into Northling already?

“Have you been this way before?” she asked, after the worry had gnawed at her for long enough. “The fairy specifically said to walk to Northling.”

“No, but I’ve seen lots of maps. We’re not that far north yet,” he assured her. “A river marks the boundary between the kingdoms.”

“Can we make it to the smithy by noon tomorrow if we walk?”

“I can fly in the rain, if you can endure it a little longer.” Ash stood. “See, the storm has eased, and it’s not so windy. We have time before sunrise ...”

He left the last part unsaid, but she understood. They would have no choice but to walk when he turned back into the golden goose.

“It’s not much drier down here in the mud.” She climbed back onto his back.

Once in the air, Elowen tucked her head beside Ash’s shoulder like she had when searching for Cedar. The rain stung her exposed cheek, and she closed her eyes against the lashing drops. Her fingers grew numb. Despite the discomfort, Ash’s rhythmic wing beats almost lulled her into sleep.

Sometime later, she peeked at the landscape below, wondering how far they’d gone. Wind stung her eyes, but the rain had stopped. The forest had given way to farmland and a handful of cottages nestled next to a hill. Along the horizon ahead of them, hazy lights hinted at a large settlement.

Tressl, the capital of Northling. They must be near the border now, and dawn threatened to catch them in the sky.

“We have to land!” she yelled, her teeth chattering.

Ash descended. The thick forest was far behind them now, so he landed near a copse of linden trees and walked into the safety of their branches. Elowen removed her wet clothes while Ash quickly gathered wood and started a fire. After changing into dry underclothes and trousers, she pulled on a clean tunic and then huddled near the crackling flames, thankful for Ash’s gift. The sun rose as she chafed warmth back into her hands.

Ash remained silent during the transformation. A flash of golden light—and it was done. Elowen’s blue ribbon surprisingly still remained on his ankle, wrapped round and round more times than she remembered when tying it on. He padded to her side and sat down with a sigh, his feathers glinting in the firelight.

“I’m not sure the name Ash suits you in this form,” she said, pulling him into her lap for comfort, her own as well as his.

“What would you call me, then?”

Remembering the names she’d imagined when she first met him, she said, “Gold-Flame. It’s rather grand for a goose, but you’re a rather grand goose and a rather unique dragon.”

His chuckle led into a yawn. He preened a feather. “They’re quite sturdy. Heavier than real feathers, but much lighter than gold.”

She ran her hand over his back, marveling again at the softness. The only gold she’d ever seen was the unicorn’s coin.

“Beaten gold is delicate,” he continued, accepting the dried fruit she offered. “I’ve seen heaps of gold in the queen’s hoard. Coins, armor, even fabric laced with gold. They showed me once to entice me to stay as a bodyguard, but not all dragons desire hoards.”

“If you had a hoard, it would be mushrooms,” she murmured, growing drowsy.

He chuckled.

“How did you get your name, then?”

“I’ve always been able to produce flames whenever I wanted, even as a hatchling. My parents worried it would attract unwanted attention, so they gave me a simple, boring name. Ash. Grey, bland.”

“But you’re bronze.”

“Yeah, I ended up attracting attention earlier than they’d hoped.”

“I like your name,” she said, giving him a pointed look. “Ash trees are anything but bland and boring.”

“Ash ... tree?” He grinned, his eyes twinkling. “A tree name. I told you we were meant to be together, didn’t I?”

She grinned in response to his delight and leaned back to rest her head against the damp pack basket. “I’m sorry for what the fairy did to you.”

“No more of that,” he said cheerfully. “What the fairy did is on her. She told you the gift wouldn’t last forever, right?”

Had she? “I forgot that part.”

“So there will be a way for me to turn back into a dragon—permanently—once we figure out the purpose for her gift and rescue Cedar.”

When joy holds sway / will all be right. Did that mean they would have a happy ending? Cedar would come home safely and Ash would be back to normal? She could only hope so.

He lay his head on her knee and mumbled sleepily, “There had better be a way, or that fairy will learn not to anger a dragon.”

Had he been any other dragon, Elowen might have worried about incurring the wrath of a fairy with words like that. But Ash was her dragon, and he would never use his flames to harm anyone. She allowed herself to drift off to sleep, secure that no matter what lay ahead of them, they could face it together.

“ELOWEN.”

Elowen stirred as someone picked at her sleeve. Had she overslept? She’d promised Cedar they would go cherry picking and make pies.

“Elowen.”

She opened her eyes to Ash tugging softly on her sleeve with his beak. Cedar was still with the trolls. Sighing, she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“We should get started soon. It’s not far now, but we’re both on foot.” He slapped his webbed feet on the ground, looking at them with both fascination and irritation.

He’d piled some cleaned oyster mushrooms near the pack, so Elowen added them to her breakfast of cheese and nuts, insisting Ash eat his share. She finger-combed her hair and then tucked it behind her ears.

Ash preened his feathers awkwardly, reminding Elowen of a child trying to eat corn on the cob. She giggled.

He glanced at her with a mock frown, obviously pleased to hear her amusement, and said, “I don’t even know if golden feathers need to be tidied.”

She finished tying off the ends of the cloak and helped him settle inside. “You’re going to be hidden anyway, remember?”

She allowed him to poke his head out and look around while he directed her to a road he’d seen in the dark. She followed it past farmland and pastures, and they were soon joined by others heading towards the city. Elowen tucked the cloak securely around Ash, leaving a slit for him to peek from. To anyone curious enough to look, she was simply carrying a sleeping child.

Elowen marveled at the stone bridge that arced across the river. Being so close to Tressl, it was safe from trolls demanding crossing tolls. The crowd around her grew, but she kept her distance so that she could whisper to Ash as she walked.

“I’ve never imagined anything so big.” She tried not to stare wide-eyed at the looming walls. The open gates were big enough for four trolls to stroll through side by side.

“Don’t look at the guards when you pass the gates,” Ash advised. “And keep your mouth closed.”

“My mouth is not open,” she said, but she averted her gaze quickly, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself than necessary.

“It’s not much different than your own king’s city, you know. Hillier, maybe.”

Perhaps there were some similarities, but she wouldn’t know. This city was nothing at all like any village she’d ever visited, except perhaps for the people, but even they seemed unfamiliar. Perhaps it was the finery of the clothes they wore or the guards walking casually among them. She followed the flow of bodies around her. How would she find the smithy among all of these buildings?

How would she ever find Cedar in a world so large with only a golden coin and a golden goose?

“You should buy something,” Ash said.

“Are you hungry?”

“Are you serious? I ate so many snails this morning, I’m surprised we’re not leaving a trail of slime.”

She grinned at his attempt to soothe her unease.

“Buy something cheap and ask the vendor to point you in the direction of the forge.”

She nodded at his wisdom and found a woman selling small pastries from a cart. She walked away with half a dozen sweet buns and a detailed description of the city’s layout, including the location of the smithy. The woman had eyed the bulging cloak but thankfully had not asked any questions.

“What now?” Elowen asked Ash. They’d arrived before noon, and she didn’t want to stand around at the blacksmith’s shop staring.

“Find the smithy and then wander around. Perhaps we can hear some rumors about the trolls. Alder heard something when he went out, and he hadn’t made it this far.”

Elowen patted his back through the cloak in appreciation. She found the blacksmith’s shop easily and walked past, although there seemed to be quite a crowd around it, so she wouldn’t have been out of place had she lingered. She wandered around, as Ash had suggested, nibbling on the sweet buns, but she heard little of interest. She stopped at a fountain that seemed to serve no purpose other than to provide seating on its decorative stonework. She perched on the edge and tried not to look out of place as she eavesdropped, hoping to hear rumors of marauding trolls. Why had the fairy chosen this city in particular?

No one spared her a glance. Years ago, once Elowen realized that potential suitors were turned away by the state of their farm rather than by her personally, she no longer cared much about whether people considered her attractive or not. She was certainly no one worthy of attention in her current condition. If no one looked at her, no one noticed Ash. That was all she could hope for.

Unless the fairy had meant for people—or someone in particular—to see him. Elowen sighed. Why did fairies have to be so tricky with their gifts?

“Listen,” Ash whispered. “Those women behind us are discussing the princess.”

She tilted her head without looking around and heard two feminine voices chatting on the other side of the fountain.

“... prolonged melancholy. Such a pretty lass,” the first woman said. “No reason for it at all.”

The second woman chimed in. “Not even a smile from that one.”

“The queen’s going to marry her off, mark my words. Maybe then her brother will step up and take his duty seriously.”

Their voices faded as they moved away.

“No one seems concerned about trolls here,” Elowen said. She was too nervous to sit long, so she made her way to a row of stalls in a side street. “I doubt they came anywhere near Tressl.”

“It must be almost noon, judging by the sun,” Ash said. His eye was barely visible in the shadows of the cloak as he peeked out. “We’ll soon find whatever the fairy wanted us to find.”

Hopefully. Elowen bit a fingernail and admired the wares at the stalls, silks and shimmering fabrics in colors Alder would covet for his drawings, pearls from faraway oceans, exotic fruits. She let her feet carry her closer to the smithy, her heart beating faster with each step.

“I can’t see inside,” Ash whispered. “Why are there so many people mingling in front?”

The blacksmith’s shop itself rang with the familiar clang and hiss of activity, and what Elowen could see of it looked like any other she’d seen. At least a dozen young ladies, not a single man, crowded in front of the large open front of the shop. What in the world could draw such interest? She’d seen blacksmiths work before, and while interesting, it was mostly loud, dirty, and smelly routine jobs.

Elowen edged around the crowd and ended up at a corner of the open shop front. A bald, middle-aged man stood inside, shoeing a fine-looking horse. A younger man held the horse’s head, and a third man with a braided beard filed something off to the side, ignoring the audience.

The crowd’s focus seemed to be on the younger man with the horse. He was clean-shaven and easy on the eyes. She watched him, trying to figure out what the young ladies saw in him, besides his looks. He was certainly the most handsome man Elowen had ever seen, strong and well-dressed. Perhaps a little too well-dressed for a blacksmith, his trousers and sleeveless tunic being of a finer quality than the other two men but of a style to blend in with their clothes. His confidence and skill were obvious, but he deferred to the older man, so he wasn’t the one in charge. A journeyman, perhaps—someone new who was drawing people’s interest. His shoes were definitely expensive, and a silver ring glittered on his right hand. Perhaps he was the eccentric son of a landowner pursuing an interest.

Ash must have thought the same. “Nice to know some gentlemen have useful hobbies,” he mumbled.

The young man took the horseshoe and stepped over to the anvil to make adjustments. Elowen studied him closely. Broad shoulders, strong hands, hair as black as coal. His stance was confident and natural. She couldn’t make out the color of his eyes while his attention was focused on his work, but a streak of soot smudged his jawline. She clenched her fists against the sudden urge to wipe it clean.

The hammering had stopped. The young lady next to her huffed in annoyance.

The young man stared at Elowen with a curious expression. She wouldn’t flatter herself that he also seemed interested. He grinned at her slowly and winked.

She blushed and looked away, at the horse, at the man with the braided beard, at her muddy boots. She’d drawn attention to herself, and that was the last thing she wanted. What was she thinking, gawking at a handsome young man like all the other giggling girls?

His eyes were as black as his hair.

She shook her head and turned on her heel. The ladies glared at her openly as she made her way to the back of the crowd. She glanced over her shoulder once without thinking. The young man had stopped his work and leaned against a wooden post with his arms crossed, ignoring all of the other ladies and staring at her. When he caught her gaze, he grinned widely.

The bald blacksmith had already taken over the horseshoe work without a word, so the young man was obviously influential enough to evade a reprimand from the master.

Elowen rushed away from the building, trying to blend in among the people as if she were not running from something. Or someone. She turned in a circle. What was she doing? Why had she been at the smithy? She took a deep breath, recalled the layout of the city, and walked back to the fountain.

“I’m being silly,” she said as she sat on the stone ledge. She settled Ash on her lap, making sure his feathers were still covered.

“I can’t blame you for looking,” he said.

“I wasn’t looking!” She winced and lowered her voice. “I mean, I was looking, but not like that.”

“Like what?”

“Never mind. Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

“You’re the one talking to your cloak.”

She rolled her eyes, more at herself than at his cheekiness. “What now? We did what the fairy instructed.”

“I don’t know.” He paused. “I think better when I’m not hungry. Can I have one of those sweet buns?”

She stuffed one inside the cloak and stood. She thought better on her feet.

Not far from the blacksmith’s shop, down a hill on a flower-lined street, Elowen passed a house nestled next to a milliner’s shop. It was quieter here. A woman sat on a stool on the low stone porch of the house, plaiting straw. Nearby, a Talking Cat lay stretched out with its tail twitching over a wicker bassinet. Chubby fists reached up trying to grab it each time it wafted by. The cat watched Elowen through sleepy eyes.

A boy of about eight years squatted on a step, building a tower of blocks and eating an apple. He looked up and waved with his apple.

Elowen smiled absently in response and paused. She should probably return to the smithy. Facing the handsome man again was far preferable to whatever indignities Cedar was suffering among the trolls.

“What kind of goose is that?” The boy stood near her elbow, staring at the cloak.

Startled, Elowen spun around to face him.

The boy screeched in alarm, stumbled, and swung around behind her, his hand firmly entrenched inside the cloak.

“Kennet!” His mother bounded down the stairs. “Let go of that goose!”

“I can’t, Mumma!”

HWONK! Ash struggled in the child’s grip.

The woman grabbed Kennet’s upper arm and pulled, but she only managed to yank everyone around. She glared at Elowen. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry. I have no idea, but let’s all stay calm and stand still for a moment.”

The woman tugged her son’s arm again halfheartedly and huffed.

Elowen felt inside the cloak for the boy’s hand. He’d grabbed a handful of feathers on Ash’s back. She tried to pry his fingers apart, but they were stuck fast. The woman’s hand was also firmly attached to her son’s bare skin.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Elowen said. Had this been part of the fairy’s plan? They weren’t even at the smithy. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll do my best to figure this out.”

“You should leave that goose with me and bring back some help. I have a baby to watch.”

Ash honked in alarm.

“I can’t leave my ... goose.” How could she explain things so this woman would understand? “He’s ... special. He’s a fairy gift to help get my brother back from the trolls, although he hasn’t been any use so far.”

Ash huffed, but he thankfully said nothing. Elowen sighed in relief. She would rather not have to explain that the goose was actually a dragon, on top of everything else. She needed this woman’s sympathy and cooperation.

“Mumma, I want to go with the golden goose.”

At least the boy had some sense of adventure.

His mother frowned, but she glared a little less ferociously at Elowen. “Where will you take us, then?”

“I think we should go to the blacksmith’s.” It was the only definite destination the fairy had given Elowen.

The woman seemed satisfied with this answer. She spoke to the cat. “Taffy, watch the baby.”

“I’m not a nanny,” he said in a bored voice. Despite the complaint, Taffy moved over and curled up beside the baby’s basket. Eyes closed, he mumbled, “I could just eat the goose and take care of the problem.”

“No!” the boy protested.

“Joking,” Taffy said. “Bring me back some trout.”

Kennet skipped forward, jerking them all off balance again.

“Never meddle with fairies,” Kennet's mother said, steadying him.

“I’m so terribly sorry,” Elowen said, leading the way slowly so they wouldn’t trip on each other’s feet. “I never imagined this would happen.” Once upon a time, she’d been a poor farm girl who’d never imagined anything more preposterous than a bumper crop and a cherry harvest that would allow them to hire back a field hand.

The woman brushed off the apology brusquely. “I can’t blame you for taking what help was offered when it comes to family. I just hope you get this sorted out quickly.”

“I’m sure we’ll get things set to rights soon.”

But Elowen wasn’t sure at all. Ever since the trolls had kidnapped Cedar, she couldn’t be sure about anything anymore.