She’d done what she’d promised. She showed him the tunnel. It was his own fault if he got caught there, sobbing like a child.
But the higher she climbed, the more she thought. Even if the skral managed to make his way up into the Rift, there were wild creatures, the elements, and of course, Jarek’s hunters. What if they caught him?
So Asha turned around and went back.
Seventeen
They hadn’t spoken a word since they made their way to the end of the tunnel. Which was fine with Asha. She didn’t need to talk.
When they stepped out into the moonlight, the soft whoo of an owl greeted them. Asha breathed in the cool night air just as the slave abruptly stopped. His arm shot out and Asha walked right into it. She was about to push it away when, in the cedar forest ahead, she saw what made him stop: two pale, slitted eyes peered at them through the darkness.
Asha let out a shaky breath.
Shadow dragon. So the hunters hadn’t found it.
“Keep walking,” she told him.
“What?”
“You’ll see.”
Asha moved into the cedars. Out of sight, the dragon crept along beside them. Above the hush of the wind, Asha could hear its bulk brushing against the leaves. Could hear the softclick of its scales rippling as it moved. Asha kept walking until the trees grew thicker and closer together, following the sound of trickling water. At the small stream, Asha stopped. It smelled like wet earth. Crouching down into the grass, she peered into the trees where the dragon stalked, staring back at her, wondering what in all the skies she was supposed to do now.
The slave sat down next to her, his eyes wide, his body shivering.
“I said you can leave,” she told him, sitting too and curling her arms around her knees. “I’m not going to stop you.”
“Do you know what the punishment is for freeing a slave?”
Asha knew.
“The loss of a hand,” he said, in case she didn’t.
Asha shrugged. They’d have to prove it was she who did it.
And she needed only one hand to kill Kozu.
“Steer clear of the hunting paths,” she told him. “They start here, in the lower Rift, and go west, toward the breeding grounds. If you stay east, youmightmake it to Darmoor.” But that was a very long walk on foot. And the Rift was a wild, dangerous place. The chances of his making it, alone, were slim.
He must have known this, because he said, “I think I’ll stay right here for now.”
Asha looked at him.
He reached for a long strand of esparto grass, twisting it around his fingers. “There’s a dragon in there.” He nodded toward the trees up ahead while plucking two more grass strands. He wove these together, fashioning a kind of braid. “And since you happen to be a dragon hunter, I plan to stickwith you until it’s either dead or gone.”
“Unfortunately for us both,” Asha muttered, “neither of those outcomes is forthcoming.”
“What?” He looked into the trees where the dragon crouched, then back at Asha. “Why not?”
She sighed. The air heaved out of her in a rush and she fell back into the grass, looking up at the moon: a mere sliver of red in a black sky.
“I can’t kill it,” she whispered. “I wish I could. But I—” She shot him an embarrassed look. “I’m supposed to protect it.”
The slave peered down at her, blocking the sliver of moon. “But you’re the Iskari. The king’s dragonhunter.”
“If it dies,” she said, looking up into his face, “the Old One will punish me.”
“The Old One... ?” He raised an eyebrow. There was a hint of mockery in it. “Iskari, you’ve killed hundreds of dragons. Did he punish you for any of those?” He planted one hand just above her head, leaning in closer.
