“I was just pointing out that they’re wrong about you.” But she’s probably right that it’s not wise to be caught bad-mouthing the king.
Mirelle watches me as she strokes the blue hatchling. “I wish I was always brave like you and could speak my mind.”
“I’m not brave,” I tell her, thinking about how I acted when Prince Emmeric and King Aylard were touching me. Even now that I carry a sword, I still prickle with self-consciousness whenever an Alpha looks my way, or a group of men are staring at me. I don’t mind talking with Onderz and Zabriel, but the only Alpha whose attention feels good is Stesha. “I act confident when things are safe and easy, but as soon as I’m cornered, I freeze. I can’t find my voice, and I don’t know how to tell people to leave me alone or move back.”
“I’m the same way,” Mirelle says. “Always around men. I just want to run and hide.”
“We ride dragons. Why are we like this?”
“I think it’s my designation,” she says mournfully. “I’m supposed to be like this.”
“So what’s my excuse?” I mutter.
There’s the sound of running feet in the corridor outside, and then a castle guard bursts into the Flame Temple.
He has his sword drawn, and his panicked shout echoes around the hushed space. “Wild dragons! Wild dragons are attacking the flare.”
I jump to my feet, cradling the silver hatchlings against my chest. Grandfather used to tell me stories about the wild dragons of Maledin. Dragons who were born outside the king’s flare, far to the east where there are few people and the landscape isdesolate. Some form their own flares, and they’re vicious about protecting their territory.
Through the open roof of the temple, we hear the roar of an Alpha dragon.
The Temple Crone, a wiry, striking woman with steel gray hair and intense eyes, strides to the middle of the space and claps her hands. “Everyone, go up the stairs and move to the back of the Flame Temple. You will be safe there. Our riders will handle the attack.”
But I’m a rider. I should be out there.
Castle and city residents, along with the Temple Maidens and Mothers, stream up the stairs and disappear into the depths of the temple.
I can hear the distressed screams of dragons from the direction of the dragongrounds, and it puts my stomach in knots. I give the silver hatchlings to Mirelle.
“Take care of the hatchlings.”
“You can’t go out there,” she calls after me. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Maybe I can help, and I have to know that Minta is safe.”
Tears well up in her eyes as she follows me. “Zenevieve,please. I’m frightened for you.”
“I’ll be all right.” I push her toward a Temple Maiden, who is anxious to help the princess, then turn and run out of the temple. I can hear screaming and the roars of dragons. What if Minta is hurt?
What if Nilak is hurt?
What if Stesha is hurt?
I can’t prevent myself from picturing them all bleeding and dying, and I pray that the gods protect them. With my heart in my throat, I run through the castle, dodging around soldiers and civilians who are running in all directions. Orders are shoutedfor people to shelter in the Flame Temple or the Great Hall, but I ignore them.
I burst out onto the battlements and see that the sky is filled with smoke. The city is on fire, and I feel a spurt of worry for my parents. All around me in the skies are the shapes and colors of unfamiliar dragons. A massive presence looms close, and I flinch back as I realize that the dragon is a startling shade of yellow not seen in our flare. This must be Golden Terror himself. He reaches for me as he swoops past, razor-sharp talons extended, all of them red and dripping with blood. I stumble backward just in time to avoid a killing blow. My heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest.
Over the noise of all the panicked people and dragons, a strange sound reaches my ears. I turn on the spot until I see someone standing not far from me, his eyes lit with delight and his mouth open wide in hilarity.
Emmeric is witnessing Lenhale under attack, and he’s laughing.
6
Stesha
The journey back to Lenhale in the late afternoon of a clear day is usually a peaceful one, with little in the skies apart from a few birds. A dragon or two. Perhaps a unit of wingrunners streaking across the horizon.
But today, the acrid scent of smoke in the distance alerts Nilak to danger before I see it. Her sensitive ears pick up the sound of frightened dragons. She increases her speed, and I lean forward over her neck, trying to discern for myself what she’s seen and heard.
