I nod as I sob like his words make sense. But the thing is I’m not sure. I’m not sure my life is more precious than gold because with Nity now taken from me I feel less than worthless. I’ve lost everything. The dragon I was meant to protect is gone. Nity is dead. And now her babies will die too without her gold.
When I’ve gotten my fill of emptiness, I stand back up. I refuse to stay in this barren cavern when the hatchlings are in the barn, waiting for me. They’re my solace in this.
As always, the hatchlings are as excited to see me as I am them. They bound forward in bunny-like hops. My tears begin at once. Relief and happiness mix into the misery.
Oria nudges my armpit, and I let her crawl into my lap. Her scales stay silver, fear or maybe even grief keeping her unable to relax. It’s how I feel, coated in sorrow and pain.
I pet her and one of her scales catches my eye.
“James?”
“Yes?” His voice is also clogged in grief.
“Did Oria always have this one spot here?”
James lifts his head. “What spot?”
“This spot.”
He stares at where I indicate, where my fingertips rove over her chest. Because right there, right over her heart, a cluster of five scales shine gold. Not silver. Brilliant Nity-gold.
“That’s new,” James breathes.
“Oh my god.” I twist. “Electrum,” I call, pulling him to my side. I scan every last inch and yes, it’s there too. There’s more gold than silver.
“Where’s Hort?” I ask.
James doesn’t ask me why. He sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles, one long blast. A moment later, Hort trots into the barn, head swinging toward us with a look that asks,Playtime?
Same old Hort, who loves puddles of water and pools of sunshine. And I’ve grown used to Hort wearing his orange, black-tipped scales instead of his silver. Even more reason to test my theory. “Could you make him put on his metal?”
James frowns. “You don’t think?”
“I don’t know what I think. But I need to confirm.”
With a nod, James whistles. This time though, the sound echoes in a low register. “Hort. Shield.” Like a sword drawn, silver covers Hort’s body, a brilliant shiny thing. I step forward, peering at each scale, reaching out with my crafting to feel for it. James scans as well. And then there it is, on the once-broken wing, right where we bandaged him for weeks—a patch of golden scales.
I gasp. “Do you know what this means?”
“Their metal can change. He’s turning golden.” James stares at Hort. “I have a golden dragon.”
A thought clangs in my head, hollow like the cave below. “Only ifthey keep eating gold.”
Rage ignites again in my heart. Nity’s gold wasn’t just nursing them. She was protecting her children, turning them golden. That’s why she was shedding for so long, why she was still vulnerable, why she spent so long filling the cavern with tons of the stuff. She had to overwork, oversupply, in order to shield her kids.
Another thought adds on, heavy to the misery of losing Nity. If we can get that gold back, Oria will turn golden, fully golden. Which means Nity wasn’t just protecting her children, she was reversing extinction, creating a way for the species to continue.
A new resolution fills the emptiness in my gut. “I’m not letting her work go to waste. I’m getting it back. I’m stealing Nity’s gold back.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREEWHEN YOU PREPARE FOR A HEIST
JAMES
We pull on our rider and spotter uniforms in the early stretch of morning. Brown leather. Metal chest plates. For the first time ever, Farren wears silver instead of copper, and it looks damn good on her.
We’re both quiet after planning everything last night, moving in silent determination. We’re doing this. We’re becoming the thieves my father accused the Walshes of being. But like Farren said—we’re going to steal itback.
Before she mounts Hort, I call out. “Walsh, wait.”
