“The larger the goat, the more food for the dragons.” She grinned, mischief lighting her eyes. “Please, don’t assume I’m opposed to your breeding plan.”
He sputtered, grappling for a response. “You think I would let those creatures eat Er’oer’s kids?!”
“Onward, Clay.” I chuckled, waving him forward. He grumbled under his breath but reluctantly led us on.
“Save your taunts for when we’re safe in Sol,” I warned Nienna.
She snickered but pressed her lips together, remaining silent.
The path widened as we reached a grassy ledge hemmed in by stone fences. The largest goats I had ever seen lay basking in the sun, some sleeping, others bounding off the steep rock walls. Small barns nestled against the mountainside, and the air was filled with the shrill bleats of the herds.
Commoners paused in their work, bowing as we passed, offering greetings to their lord and king—and eyeing the princess with astonishment, followed by wide smiles. We wound our way to a lower ledge, even larger than the first, thick with green sod.
“How do you grow grass out of rock?” Nienna asked, surveying the second pasture. Here, the goats were smaller, their fur longer and shimmering with health. A spotted buck, its horns as large as my mule’s head, stood among a herd of does.
“It’s all about the species,” Clay said, slowing his mule to ride beside Nienna. “They favor the mountain pastures, but it won’t grow in the valley. We redirect the snowmelt, carry the rocky silt up to the ledges.” He dismounted and grabbed a handful of the sharp-bladed grass, handing it to her. “Then we seed it, and it grows just like it would in the wild, but in fields.”
Nienna ran her finger along the narrow leaves, inspecting them. “Do you supplement their diet?”
“With grain and hay from the valleys, yes.” Clay beamed, clearly pleased with her interest. “They stay here because they know they’ll get a consistent supply of food, especially in winter.”
A loud snort pierced the air, drawing our attention to the herd. The spotted buck, without hesitation, approached a doe. With a quick, assertive motion, he mounted her.
“There he goes!” The man practically cheered as he swung into the saddle.
Nienna tilted her head, studying the scene.
I let out a slow breath. “Clay, maybe it’s time to show the princess the nursery?”
“Why? ‘Tis nearly empty. The next breeding season’s starting.”
Nienna spun, eyebrows raised. “It is only natural.”
I met her gaze, leaning over my saddle. “And when dragons mate in the skies of Draconia, do all the good folk stop and watch?”
“Yes, actually. It’s an exciting day when a dragon takes a mate. Eyes are on the sky, from young to old.”
That explained a lot. She’d been raised around creatures that claimed their desires openly. And now, she wanted something—yet couldn’t have it.
I shook my head, nudging my mule forward. “Come on, Clay. Your buck can tend his herd another day.”
The man sighed but took the lead again, guiding us down the mountain path toward the city. We traveled slowly, taking in the towering cliffs and sweeping views. I clenched my stomach whenever we neared the edges, but I kept my unease hidden. Nienna, however, said nothing.
The fields below, though small compared to the plains, were Sol’s treasure. Every inch of land was nurtured—flowers, herbs, crops sprouting from the rock itself. They made the most of what space they could.
As we rounded the final outcropping, the gleaming city reappeared, blinding in the sunlight. White marble stretched as far as I could see. The hooves of our mules struck the cobblestones, catching the attention of the citizens.
Soft cheers rose as we entered, and I straightened. Sol, like Reem, was a place I knew well, where people recognized me. Nienna’s sharp eyes darted over the bustling streets, slipping into the shadowed alcoves of shops carved into the mountainside.
Children laughed, darting around us, sketching small bows. Women threw flowers in our path, and men offered respectful salutes. I’d fought beside many of them. They quickly returned to their tasks, but all still wore their swords.
It would take years to undo the marks of war.
We traveled down the tenth main street, and soon Clay led us up a flight of stairs to the eleventh level. Sol was a work of art—every crevice adorned withcarvings, ivy etched in sprawling designs, and statues of goats leaping from pillar to pillar.
We continued up, nearing the thirteenth. Workers lived there, but the heart of the city—markets, shops, the dance hall—was at the top.
By midday, the streets buzzed with activity, people finishing errands before the evening’s festivities. It was clear Clay had announced my attendance; the air crackled with excitement. Several women curtsied to Nienna, whispering behind their hands. She was a novelty to them, a rare guest in their city. I couldn’t predict when she’d come again. Tallon didn’t care for the Sol, he favored the plains. Which made his sudden friendliness with the nobles along the Craggs interesting.
