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A faint bruise still darkened his jaw. The cut on his lip, and a second cut curving above his left eye, looked raw and red, although they weren’t bleeding.

Was this the first time I’d cared about his wounds? Had I been afraid to study him too closely? Because studying him meant seeing the man instead of…the prisoner?

Shame tightened my throat. “I’ll find a trading caravan,” I said. “We can blend in with them.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, turning to check the doneness of the meal. A moment later, he sliced off a section of meat on the bone and handed it to me.

I bit into it, too hungry to care that the fat was dribbly as it rolled down my chin.

“Good?” he asked.

“Umm.” I nodded. “You’re a passable cook.”

“I’ll get you some fresh fruit when we get to the Black City.”

How did he know I craved fresh fruit? Nervously, I asked, “Have you spent time in the Black City?”

“Some.” He stirred the fire, then cut another slice of the hen and handed it to me. I traded the bone I held for the new piece and bit into the meat, trying hard to suppress the soft moan of pleasure.

After a moment, I said, “My father spent years in this area, researching for the king. He wrote scientific studies, and I begged him to take me with him into the desert beyond the Black City. He told me of his adventures and the peaceful nights with a campfire burning low. I wanted to do that, study the stars the way he did. But I was too young. The best he’d do was take Nikki and me outside the walls of Thales and point out the constellations, make us memorize the names.

Learn the seasons when they came into the sky, and how to find true north. ”

Kion pointed upward. “Which one is that?”

“The Swan, flying away from the Hunter—that’s the tip of his spear.” I pointed toward the brightest star.

“Can you spot the Malice Moon?”

“Yes…there.” Every citizen in the realm knew how to spot the comet that passed every seven years.

Tonight, the comet was a distant blue star, but as it came closer, it would grow larger, reveal a forked tail. Once trapped by our gravity, the comet orbited the planet beside our moon for six months, before finally shooting away.

For all its beauty, though, the Malice Moon was catastrophic.

Odd lights appeared in the sky. Freak storms or earthquakes leveled buildings and fractured roads.

Depending upon the season, the farmers dealt with ruined crops or rotting seeds, leading to food shortages and starvation in the following year.

Monsters often emerged from the hidden depths, large and small, corrupted creatures hard to kill.

Mage priests and the King’s Guard were always on patrol, eliminating the ones they found.

But more people feared the blue rain—an acid rain falling from the comet’s tail, razing everything in its path, including buildings not constructed with stone.

Animals and humans caught in the open suffered with horrible burns. Most died.

It didn’t matter that blue rain was a rarity, and lifetimes passed without some people ever experiencing it. The fear was always present, and rumors would start as people remembered how, even in the time of the Chaos, dragon lords had protected the continent from blue rain.

No one wanted dragons back in the world. They were the ultimate predators. Hungry dragons devastated entire herds of cattle or sheep, and whispers spread…that they devoured men.

During the war, the dragons burned towns to the ground, leaving miles of seared forests with no living trees. Dragon fire was not survivable without mage priests generating shields of focused magic, and the sheer terror in an attacking dragon was enough to send brave men running from the field.

But even if dragons miraculously returned, we’d lost the knowledge of how dragon lords achieved their impossible feats, training wild dragons to respond to human commands. All books had been destroyed along with the dragons, and mage priests had taken their place.

Magic protected the populations, and the grateful citizens offered money and loyalty to the king, although not every town could afford the protection.

I didn’t fault those grasping at the rumors.

The last blue rain to fall on Thales had been decades ago, and some fields still could not grow even the easiest crops of beans or grains.

The next blue rain was overdue. Desperate people needed hope, and the rumor of dragons offered the delusion of salvation. A false dream fueled by rebels.

Rebels like the prisoner who sat across from me. A man who said Orm had cursed him. A man who had grieved on the Plains of Celandine and claimed our history was based on lies.

Firelight gilded his face, the obscene beauty of a male like none I’d ever seen. He carried the strength and command that made women weep at his feet, and an unshakable commitment to his cause.

Did the ancient mage masters look across the killing fields and see dragon lords with the same merciless expression?

Bogo chirped from the trees. The sound jolted my heart into racing, and I cursed my imagination—what I thought I’d seen in the prisoner’s eyes, the torching wrath of an ancient enemy.

But Bogo had to be hungry if he risked coming with a stranger around. I picked up the meat, tore it into pieces small enough to arrange on a nearby rock.

Kion remained silent, chewing the bite he’d cut for himself. Then he asked, “What is that pest flying around your head? Some giant insect?”

Bogo hissed as he settled on the stone and nudged the food; Kion laughed with a trace of derision. “He’s a pest and also picky?”

I scowled. “He doesn’t like to be watched when he eats.”

Kion gestured with the bone he held. “What is he? ”

I watched Bogo without turning my head. “I think he’s a rare species of bat, probably born deformed, and his family kicked him out.”

“You have a deformed bat as a pet?”

Bogo hissed again, and I smiled, indignant on Bogo’s behalf, before I said, “It’s nicer than Nikki’s version. He calls Bogo a flying rat. But he’s not a true pet. He’s a wild creature who comes and goes as he pleases.”

I paused, waiting while Bogo gulped the meat and glanced around for more.

Amazingly, Kion tossed his piece toward the little creature.

Bogo snapped the offering out of the air, and a strange smile crossed Kion’s face.

Had he never owned a pet? But the idea clenched my heart—was I jealous?

Bogo had always been mine. And now, maybe he wasn’t, if I was sharing him with this man.

“How long have you known Bogo?” Kion asked.

“Since I was five. I was crying in the garden, and he just…showed up.”

“What were you crying about?”

“Oh, you know.” I shoved the memory down. “The usual little hurts. I started feeding him, so he probably thinks I’m his mother. He keeps finding me when I’m lonely or sad—or when he’s hungry.”

Kion arched an eyebrow.

“It’s not like he’s around all the time, but we’re friends, and once Nikki is grown and the king releases me, I’m going to research his species. Get him home to his family. He shouldn’t be alone.” Bogo stared with his eyes blinking, as if he understood. “He’ll be happier with his own kind.”

“Won’t you miss him?”

“Terribly. He’s my friend, but it’s better for him, isn’t it? To be where he belongs?” I wiped at my messy hands. Kion grunted, then pushed the small bowl of water toward me; he’d warmed the water by the fire.

Bogo belched as he stretched his little bat wings. A laugh bubbled up. “No one ever said he had manners.”

Kion stood and arranged blankets pulled from the saddlebag. He helped me to the stream, waited with his back turned while I took care of business, then carried me back. When I was settled, he squatted down and held out my knife.

“Be sure I’m asleep and strike here.” He pressed his fingers to his chest. “Hard. You won’t get a second chance. ”

My hand trembled. “What is this? Some sort of test?”

“Trust is fragile. Either we have it…or we don’t.”

“You’re my prisoner.”

“But you won’t turn me over to the king.”

I moistened my lips. “Why would you believe that?”

He rocked back and stared with those fathomless eyes. “A dragon told me.”

“There are no dragons.”

They’d been extinct for two hundred years and weren’t coming back…and I wouldn’t fall for it. Not the doubt or guilt the prisoner tried to plant.

Because…no matter how I’d relished the freedom in these moments…

Not for even a second could I think about not turning him over to the king.

Not when Nikki’s life depended on me refusing to fail.

No…not even for a dragon…who did not exist.