“Sixteen,” she answered. “Though one, Tsunami, remains wild. So, fifteen with riders.”
The number hit harder than I expected. “And you’ve offered five for Radaan?” A third of their fleet—marriage alliance or not—was a staggering demand.
“Ten dragons can defend Draconia,” she replied, her gaze steady. “What could possibly challenge even one dragon?”
I pressed my lips together. Fair point.
"Dragons?!” The kitchen door slammed open, rattling the room.
Gayle clutched her chest, Clay’s book fumbled from his grasp, and Greaves had a blade drawn before I could blink.
The boy had gone through a growth spurt, all awkward limbs that tangled as he dropped into the chair beside Poppy. His knees banged against the table, and she hid a smile as she scooted closer.
Tipo’s parents had perished in the war, their village consumed by the chaos of battle. Afterward, he was taken in at Sol, the nearest safe haven, and grew up under Clay’s roof. Though still young, his skill with the hounds bordered on prodigious—a talent sharpened by years of instinct and an unyielding bond with the creatures.
With a sheepish shrug, he swept a messy mop of hair from his eyes and reached for the bread.
“Tipo!” Gayle’s sharp cry rang out as Will whisked the basket out of reach.
“What?” He froze, yanking his hand away as though the loaf had scorched him. “Spot chased a fox again! That’s why I’m late! Had to track him halfway down the mountain.”
Greaves settled in his seat, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, pulling the boy’s gaze like a magnet. With growing alarm, Tipo’s attention snapped from him to me.
His chair clattered to the floor as he shot to his feet, cursing under his breath. He stumbled into a hasty bow, but the movement was so rushed his forehead smacked against the table’s edge.
“Sea beneath!” Nienna sprang to her feet, her voice sharp with concern. “Are you all right?”
“My king!” Tipo straightened, rubbing the rising welt on his forehead. “My apologies! And… who’s this?” He squinted through unruly red curls, his gaze settling on Nienna.
“Nienna.” She laughed, easing back into her seat, assured he wasn’t injured.
“PrincessNienna of Draconia,” I clarified.
His jaw dropped as though the floor disappeared beneath him. He fumbled to sit again, only to stumble when it wasn’t there.
A swift kick to my shin pulled my focus to Nienna. Her lips pressed into a tight line to match her glare. Apparently, announcing her title had been the wrong move.
“A princess!” Tipo scrambled to right his chair, awe wiping the confusion from his face. “So… you’re the one with dragons?”
“Aye,” Will grumbled, shoving the basket of bread toward the boy. “We were discussing their numbers before you barged in.”
“How many are there?” Tipo demanded, his attention bouncing back to me.
“Sixteen on the island, though only fifteen have riders.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
Nienna froze, her fingers tightening on the edge of her plate. Her brows pulled into a sharpV. “Nothing. Why would you ask that?”
“Ah, must be a predator thing,” he offered, his words rushing to fill the silence. “You know, they have fewer babies to keep the balance. How many eggs do they lay?”
“Several,” Nienna replied.
“And the matings?” He leaned forward, his curiosity sparking again. “Like eagles, right? Maybe the males aren’t inside–”
Clay’s book snapped shut with a resounding thud, startling the boy into silence. “Mind your speech, lad!”
“I was only trying to help!” Tipo grumbled, tearing into a piece of bread with his teeth, his voice muffled.
