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“Get us out of here, Kaia.” I raised my arms as her claws snapped closed around me, holding me tightly but securely. The beat of her wings increased, and a cloud of dust and stone particles rose with us, filling the air and making it difficult to breathe. An arrow cut across my cheek, drawing blood but thankfully not doing greater damage. I swore and cast what little fire strength I had left at the long, tinder-dry grass that dotted the slope between them and us, hoping it would make them hesitate and give us the few vital seconds we needed to get away.

They didn’t hesitate, but we were above the treetops now and rising ever higher.

Then I saw it—the long cylindrical weapon being held steady by two Mareritt while a third stood at the back, seemingly arming it.

Fuck. Kaia…

See.

She swooped around to the right and flew hard toward the tree line. A long stream of liquid streamed after us—it wasn’t brown, but rather this odd greenish color, meaning it wasn’t the same substance the gilded riders used—but lost speed and fell away inches from Kaia’s tail. Still, the cylinders could throw liquid farther than anything else they’d hit the walls with over the decades, and that was not a welcome revelation. Not given the destruction they’d already caused.

The Mareritt scrambled to reload their weapon, but we were now over the trees and beyond their immediate line of sight.

Safe, at least for the moment.

I relaxed just a fraction, and that’s when the pain hit. It washed over me, thick and fast, and darkness loomed, threatening to sweep me into the deep well of unconsciousness. I fought it with every remaining scrap of strength I had left. I would collapse once we were home, not before.

It was a vow I kept right until the moment Kaia placed me gently in the palace’s courtyard and I all but fell into my mother’s waiting arms.

* * *

I woke to the sound of my childhood—a melodic song as bright and airy as the scent in the air. Mom, sitting near my bedding platform, softly singing while she waited for me to wake.

While the inner child smiled, the inner woman was disappointed it wasn’t Damon.

Rather than immediately acknowledging her presence, however, I reached for Kaia. You safe?

Am. Hunted earlier. Gria caught large runner.

What Kaia called a runner was what we knew as capras. She sounded so very proud, and I smiled. She’s very clever.

Is. Train new riders now?

Next task on the list . I paused. Any sighting of the gilded ones?

No. Is dark. We in aerie.

If it was now dark, then I’d been out for a couple of hours, at the very least. So why wasn’t Damon here? Were he and the squad even back yet? The sharp stab of concern had my eyes snapping open. Mom sat on a comfortable old chair that again harked back to my younger years, her booted feet propped on the platform, her wiry red-brown hair tied back in a ponytail, and a colorfully woven blanket draped around her shoulders.

“What time is it?” I asked softly, somehow managing to keep the anxiousness from my voice.

Her gaze met mine, and she smiled widely, then put down the cotte she was embroidering for my father. It was something she’d been doing for as long as I could remember, and a task I seriously doubted she’d ever finish, given she only ever worked on it when sitting by either my bedside or his, waiting for us to recover and wake.

“It’s just on seven.”

She shucked off the blanket, then stepped onto the platform and walked to my end, dropping a kiss on my cheek before lightly brushing the hair away from my eyes. It was another thing she’d always done, and I couldn’t help but feel safe and loved. It was a feeling I had the sudden urge to hang on to, because its memory might be the only comfort I’d have in the long, cold years that awaited in Zephrine. I had Damon, but one man, however wonderful he might be, however strong our relationship might yet grow to be, would never be able to replace the joy, love, and memories that echoed through the very foundations of this place.

“The healers,” she added somewhat wryly, “wanted to keep you unconscious until the morning to give your wound time to properly seal, but given the seriousness of the situation and the impatience of our queen, we reached a much shorter compromise.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. Patience definitely wasn’t one of Kaia’s virtues. Nor, in truth, was it mine—except when it came to watching the drakkons, anyway. Patience had never been an issue when it came to that .

“Are Damon and the squad back yet?”

“Not yet, although they scribed your father half an hour ago and said they should be here around eight.”

I relaxed a little, though I wouldn’t be entirely happy until I saw the man myself. “Why has it taken them so long to return? Were they attacked?”

“They encountered a few patrols, but there was no major battle and, aside from a broken arm, no major injuries.”

“Any day there are no major injuries is a good damn day.” I pushed upright, then tossed the blankets back to study the wound on my leg. A thick line of red and rather puckered flesh ran down the outside of my calf from just below my knee to the top of my ankle. It was definitely going to be an impressive scar, and I was okay with that. The healers could, of course, smooth the skin and make the scarring far less noticeable, but like many in the military, I considered them badges of pride—visible memories of close calls and survivals. That said, if I ever received a scar to my face, I’d definitely get it fixed. My womanly assets weren’t all that many, and my facial features one of my few “good” points.

I carefully prodded the scar; it felt tender, but that was to be expected given how recently it had been healed. I returned my gaze to Mom. “I take it I am allowed to move about?”

“Yes, but there will be no major hikes until tomorrow morning. They were quite insistent on that.”

They usually were, and, for the most part, I generally obeyed. In this case, there was actually no reason for me to be going on any sort of hike, let alone a long one. Not at this hour of the evening.

“Do you know if Hannity Gordan—a junior scout from Dale’s group—has indicated whether she’s willing to become a drakkon rider?”

Mom laughed. “I’m told her exact words were ‘In Vahree’s fucking name, are you serious?’ followed by a quick, ‘Yes.’ Your two rather dramatic entrances have fueled more than a little excitement amongst the ranks, and it makes me believe if we made a broad appeal for riders, we’d have more volunteers than we could handle.”

“Which is rather odd, don’t you think, given the fear the drakkons have generated for hundreds and hundreds of years?”

“Man has always feared what he cannot leash and control. Your actions have proven they can be controlled.”

“But I don’t?—”

“No, but the general population do not know that.” She grimaced. “Which is not to say there aren’t those who believe we should not be trusting the drakkons.”

“Who, specifically? Dad’s advisors? Or the general population?”

“A bit of both, and nothing we can’t handle.” She patted my hand. “Your father should be here soon. Go bathe while I order us something small to eat.”

My stomach rumbled a reminder that it hadn’t eaten anything aside from some meager trail rations, so I climbed out of bed and warily put my weight on my leg. There was several twinges, but otherwise, the leg held up fine—even if I limped a little as I moved into the bathroom. After using the privy, I ran a quick, shallow bath and felt better for being clean.

I pulled on a robe and tied it closed as I walked out. “Mom, can I ask you an odd question?”

“Odd questions are your forte, my dear child. Always have been.”

I smiled. “This is about you and Dad.”

She raised her eyebrows, amusement and curiosity glimmering in her blue eyes. “What is it you wish to know?”

“Do you and he communicate? Mentally, I mean.”

“No, though I lived with the man long enough that I know the way his mind works and can pretty much guess what he is about to say at any given moment. Why? Can you and Damon?”

I hesitated. “No, not really.”

“Then why the question?”

“It’s just... sometimes I think I can sense his emotions and hear a word or two.” I hesitated again and half shrugged. “It’s probably nothing, but?—”

“But you’re wondering if it means there’s a deeper connection?” When I nodded, she grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “I think it’s probably something you should discuss with him.”

I dare say I should, but the thought rather weirdly had my stomach churning. What if he denied the connection? What if the link I perceived growing between us was nothing more than a desperate need on my part to have at least one deep and emotional connection before I left everything and everyone I knew for Zephrine?

Logic said that was more than likely. And yet the deeper, more irrational part of my soul was having none of it. Of course, that irrational part also whispered the possibility of Dhrukita —a belief that everyone did have a perfect partner, a soul that was the other half of their own—even if it was something I’d always thought to be nothing more than a tale told to amuse little girls growing up.

A soft knock at the door dragged me from my thoughts. “Yes?”

“Your meal, your ladyships,” a soft voice said.

“Enter, please.”

Mom’s “something small” to eat consisted of a big pot of stewed meat and vegetables, various breads and sweet pastries, a jug of shamoke, and a dusty bottle of wine—it was something of a tradition to bring out the “good” red from my parents’ personal cellar when one of us survived a close call—and was followed into the room by my father. I walked over and gave him a hug. “Have the mages discovered what substance the Mareritt used on?—?”

“There will be no war room talk during the meal,” Mom cut in briskly. “You, my dear daughter, are every bit as bad as him.”

I grinned. “And he would solemnly declare that I am too much like you for any man to have a peaceful life.”

She laughed. “As if Rion would ever want a peaceful life. Neither, I wager, does Damon.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not entirely sure what that man wants, but he’s definitely keeping more than a few secrets from me. Us.”

“Indeed,” she replied calmly, “but until we uncover just what those secrets are, we have to play along.”

“I detest playing along and I hate secrets.” I grabbed a bowl and filled it with the hearty stew. “But I take it you do have a plan to uncover said secrets? Or have your seeress skills suddenly decided to work on demand?”

My father laughed. “While that would be majorly handy right now, we’re doing it the old-fashioned way—via spies in Aric’s court.”

I scooped up some stew with my spoon, but it was so damn hot I burned my tongue. I gulped down the wine Mom handed me, then said, “Why was I never told we had spies in his court?”

“Not even Vaya and Jarin know. There’s less risk of them being caught that way.” He accepted the stew Mom handed him with a nod of thanks. “Aric has several here. In fact, you’re now related to one of them via marriage.”

“ Gayl? I thought she was his aunt rather than a spy.”

“Oh, she’s definitely his aunt, though she’s Aric’s half-sister rather than full. He has ten half-siblings, apparently.”

“ Ten ? In Vahree’s name, the men in the Velez line certainly like spreading their damn seed about, don’t they?”

“Yes,” Mom said. “Though I do believe it’s a tradition that will stop with Damon.”

I snorted. “According to the military rumor mill, he flaunts his wares about just as much as his father and brother.”

“The rumor mill has some decidedly conflicting things to say about Zephrine’s heir. If one did not know better, it would not be hard to believe we were dealing with two separate men.”

“Aric does have something of a split personality—ruthless one moment, charming the next, depending on who he is dealing with,” Rion commented. “I suspect that might well be what we’re seeing when it comes to his firstborn—rumor wise, at least.”

“Then maybe I should ask Damon about his aunt and her real purpose here.”

“No, you should not,” Mom said, with surprising force. “I have no idea why they are lying or why Gayl continues to be a presence here, but I am certain of one thing—whatever is happening, Damon is an unwilling participant.”

“And given Aric’s... shall we say, volatility?” my father added, “even voicing your knowledge about Gayl could have dire consequences.”

“Damon did say recently that he’d answer my questions when lives were no longer on the line, but that really makes no sense. He’s the heir, for goodness’ sake.” I stabbed my spoon in the air to emphasize the point. “The trade contracts are signed, and our marriage consummated, so why continue the farce? What else could they be up to?”

“Well, there hasn’t been an assassination attempt for a few centuries now,” Rion said, with a half-serious laugh. “Perhaps they plan to install Damon on our throne.”

“Except for the fact Mom becomes regent if anything happens to you or your nominated heir until either Garran’s son is old enough or I produce a son. Which, in this case, would be a second son, as any firstborn would ascend the Zephrine throne. Damon can’t rule in your stead, no matter what.”

“Which is why I’m sure Gayl is here to do nothing more than report on, rather than murder, me.”

Mom put a hand on my knee, her gaze solemn as it caught and held mine. “You must believe one thing—I would never have allowed this marriage to proceed had I in any way believed Damon was a bad man or that you would not have a happy life with him.”

“A fact I can confirm,” my father said in a dry sort of tone. “We had multiple... rather heated... discussions about the relevance of treaties and their necessity to avoid war. It was only when your mother met Damon that she agreed not to tear up the contracts. And we all know that while it might have taken the threat of war to drag my Zephrine counterpart to the negotiation table, if we had then torn up the hard-won contract, he would have reacted negatively.”

An understatement if ever I’d heard one. I smiled and placed my hand over Mom’s. “Thank you for being in my corner.”

“ Never doubt the fact that I’m also in your corner, Bryn,” Rion said, with just the touch of an edge. “But I have the weight of a kingdom on my shoulders and sometimes I must consider the safety and happiness of the many over that of the one, even if that one is more precious to me than life itself.”

And yet, he would have allowed Mom to tear up those contracts and gone to war on my behalf if her doubts had intensified on meeting Damon. Of that, I had absolutely no doubt.

Mom withdrew her hand from under mine and elegantly motioned to the food. “Our meal grows cold. Enough talking until all this is consumed.”

“Dear heart, there is enough here to feed an army.”

My father’s voice was dry. Her response was a somewhat prim, “But only a very small army, and I’d wager you have not eaten all day.”

He grumbled softly but amusement danced around his lips as he lifted his bowl and began to eat. Once the bulk of the meal had been consumed to Mom’s satisfaction, I picked up my shamoke and one of the remaining sweet pastries and asked, “So what news on Jakarra?”

Mom blinked and looked away, but not before I saw the brief shimmer of grief.

“Nothing new on Garran or Glenda,” my father said, “but hope lingers.”

Not for Mom, though, obviously. She was nothing if not practical and would know that had either survived, they’d have found a way into the caverns or at least found a means of contacting Esan. “The evacuation continues unhindered, though?”

Rion nodded. “We’ve now sent several squadrons over to both Jakarra and Zergon to help protect the caverns and those who refuse to leave.”

Katter Reed, Garran’s uncle on his father’s side and the acting administrator, would undoubtedly be one of them. “What of Kinara? Have Hopetown’s ships made it ashore there with supplies?”

“Aye. A message came in from Jacklyn just before I left the war room. They’re fifty strong in the caverns, with two mages and enough weaponry to last several assaults—which, aside from the first and most destructive one, have not been forthcoming.”

“Which is rather an odd way of going about business, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Not really.” He shrugged. “There are few other cultures so bloody-minded and determined to win no matter what the cost as the Mareritt. It makes more sense militarily to hit an enemy hard, force the survivors into a confined and difficult position, and then simply place a minor watch and pick them off as necessary while the main army moves on.”

“Yeah, but the gilded riders don’t appear to be picking anyone off. They surely must know about the evacuation boats given they’ve established a number of watch platforms along the Black Glass Mountains and the island, and would have to see the boats come and go even if the daylight restrictions keep them from doing anything.”

“Presuming the restrictions are a truth rather than a deception,” Mom said. “Given how little we know about them, anything is possible.”

“Then maybe we need to capture one of the riders alive and interrogate them.”

Rion’s eyebrow’s rose. “I’m thinking the drakkons would not be fond of such a quest.”

Wouldn’t , came Kaia’s thought. But do if helps.

Are you always going to be in my thoughts like this?

Thoughts and talk interesting.

What on earth did you do before I came along to amuse you?

Got bored.

“She’s talking to Kaia,” Mom was saying. “The queen likes to know what is happening at all times.”

Not when mating , came her response. That boring.

I grinned. Sex is a participation sport rather than a spectator one. For most, anyway.

What sport?

A game. Like when you chase longhorns but don’t capture or kill.

Is fun.

I returned my full attention to my parents. “Kaia says she’s willing to help us capture a rider alive if it would help uncover who they truly are.”

“And if you are successful, then we can employ Fergus’s skills.”

Fergus was a witch whose mind-speaking specialty was humans rather than animals, and he generally worked in the healing wards helping those with various forms of memory loss to remap and recover them.

“He’ll definitely be needed,” I commented. “The few times I’ve heard them talk, it’s not been in any recognizable language. Have you sent messages to all our allies?”

Rion nodded. “None so far have had much to say in regard to who we might be dealing with.”

“So far?” I said. “Who hasn’t replied?”

“Kaligorn and the Green Islands.”

Both were smaller nations situated at the far edges of the known world, and getting to them involved many months at sea—at least two for Kaligorn and three to reach the first of the Green Islands—even with the help of air mages. Many traders thought the risk of so much time at sea worth it, though, because the two nations were rich in spices, silks, and raw cotton, and there was money to be made if they returned safely to Arleeon.

“I’ve heard the ambassadors from both places speak, and the gilded riders use a completely different dialect.” I paused to sip my shamoke. “Is it possible the reason we haven’t had a reply from one or both of them is because they’ve also been attacked?”

My father wrinkled his nose. “Unlikely—Ithica stands between us and them, and they’ve seen no sign of our raiders.”

“Of course,” Mom said wryly, “even the Mareritt tread lightly around the Ithican. They are... formidable... despite their declarations of being a peaceful race.”

They were so peaceful, in fact, that they made indestructible weapons and also, apparently, armor, though few outside Ithica itself had ever seen it. “Which leaves whatever lands lie beyond Mareritten.”

The riders weren’t likely to have come from those continents in the seas beyond Zephrine’s shores—not if they were attacking us first.

“I’d suggest that is the most likely answer. The Mareritt may not be seafarers, but they must have trading partners,” Mom said. “Their weapons are evidence enough of that.”

“Most especially their recent ones.” I quickly told them about the cylinders and the liquid they’d sprayed at Kaia and me. “Perhaps we also need to capture a damn Mareritt to see what they know.”

“Given their tendency to take their own lives if the likelihood of capture is imminent, that could possibly be harder than capturing a rider.”

“Not if we sedate them,” Mom said thoughtfully. “An arrow dipped in papaver might do the trick.”

Papaver was a drug derived from a small, somewhat innocuous red flower that dotted the banks of the Grand Alkan River, the largest of the rivers to run through Eastern Arleeon. While it didn’t actually knock the recipient out, it quickly and efficiently inhibited motor functions while providing a euphoric rush and utter relaxation.

It was sometimes used in our hospitals to calm patients down, but it was very easy to overmedicate, which could lead to death.

Not that anyone would consider that a problem when it came to the Mareritt.