“The king is mad. Never make a deal with a madman.”
Well, it was too late for that.
Pulling herself up, she shuffled outwards, away from the ledge. After her near fall, her feet carefully tested each and every foothold. By the time Claw reached the edge, Emeline was ten feet out, hanging off the cliff face.
Not seeing where the ledge ended, Claw stepped onto air. Stumbling, he quickly drew back, spreading his feathered wings for balance.
“Where are you, creature?”Hissing, he turned back in Hawthorne’s direction.
If Claw sensed the tithe collector’s absence, he would certainly look for him in the aerie. Hawthorne would be cornered.
Thinking of Hawthorne’s warning, she blurted out: “What if you and I made a deal?”
Now that she’d given her location away, Claw swung back.
“I don’t make deals with my dinner.”But his tufted ears perked upwards, as if intrigued.
Emeline peered around Claw, towards the dark maw of the aerie. Hawthorne hadn’t reemerged. She needed to buy him more time.
Keep talking.
“Let’s pretend that you do. What would you want in exchange for the Song Mage’s music?”
The dragon narrowed his eyes.“I’m not giving you the music.”
Leaning back on his haunches, the dragon sat like a cat, staring in her direction.
“What if I could prove myself worthy? Of the music, I mean.”
Claw’s attention was slipping. Bored with his uncatchable prey, his body twitched towards the aerie. She needed to get this conversation back on track before she lost him entirely.
A ridiculous idea struck. It was out of her mouth before she could stop it.
“I could sing for you.”
Claw cocked his head like a crow. His scaly tail lashed, scraping back and forth across the rocky ledge, as if he was thinking—about her proposition, or about how to prepare her for supper. Difficult to say which.
“You won’t be disappointed,” she said, stalling for time. Where the hell was Hawthorne? “I promise. Music is the only thing I’m good at.”
Claw peered over his shoulder, towards the cave entrance.
Man, he had the attention span of a toddler.
“How about this: If youdon’tdetest my singing, you let me borrow the music. Just until I learn the songs.”
“And if I do detest it?”
“Then you can eat my companion.”
“The one currently rooting through my cave like a little thief?”
Emeline blanched, remembering what Hawthorne said about Claw: he could see the past, present, and future—but sometimes got them jumbled.
Those gray lips curved in a hungry smile.“He can search all he likes. He won’t find what he’s looking for.”
Emeline froze, her fingers clutching rock. “Why not?”
“I think,” said Claw,“I will indulge you. Let us play this game. Sing me a song. If I like it, I won’t eat you. If I dislike it, I will eat you both.”
