Prologue

How quickly the world could change.

Tern pulled his horse to a halt as his commander and fellow slayers stopped at the crest of a hill. Grass yellowed by the long summer waved in the breeze, pointing toward the village in the valley below.

The mining village of L’rang was one Tern had visited many times as one of Karn’s wayfarers. Though dangerously close to the Serpent’s Fangs mountain range, it was among his favorite villages. Slayers here were hard and capable, like wayfarers, rather than softened by village life. He also never needed to stay in his tent in L’rang. Kallar’s family lived here, and Kallar always preferred company when under his father’s and stepmother’s roof.

Kallar would have made a better leader than Harrík, who Tern’s group of deserters currently followed. For the hundredth time since leaving Karn’s wayfarers under the cover of night, Tern wondered what on A’dem had gotten into Kallar. He should have been the first to leave following their chief’s alliance with the Dragon Singer. Instead, Kallar had stayed among the traitors of humanity. Tern had left many friends behind, including his beloved Trísse, who had somehow become bound to one of Alísa’s beasts. Could he have saved her if he had remained?

Tern dismissed the thoughts and returned his focus to the front of the group, where Harrík surveyed L’rang. Tern should be there too, searching for signs of whether all was well. But he couldn’t focus on the quiet morning routines of the villagers. All he could see was her. Sitting tall on a stallion with a second an’reik riding at her side, their guide Isarra demanded attention.

Dark braids circled Isarra’s head like a crown. Her garments draped her in earthy greens and browns, making the unnaturally bright green of her eyes more startling. The stallion she rode was aggressive toward other horses when pastured, yet it stood docile under her command. Some of Tern’s fellows spoke of her power over it with awe. It made his own heart shudder. 

Only a couple weeks ago, Tern would never have dreamed he and his fellows would listen to an an’reik witch. The an’reik, sold-souls, worshiped the Nameless Ones—Eldír who had rebelled against the Maker long ago—and in exchange for their souls received various powers. Tern had seen Isarra control dark mists, shaping them into solid shields or bindings as she pleased. Seeing how the others deferred to her, he wondered whether she could do more.

Tern started, suddenly aware of Isarra’s too-green eyes on him. Chiding himself, he held her gaze. He was a slayer—he had faced and killed many dragons. Surely he could stare down a single an’reik woman. 

Isarra’s lips curved ever so slightly, and Tern released his breath as she returned her gaze to Harrík.

“You will not get your answers from the outside, friend.” She nodded toward L’rang. “You will find everything as I said. We have only a peaceful presence here. The village chief and chief slayer are amenable to us, as is their songweaver.”

Harrík looked at her. “One songweaver? L’rang has two.”

“The chiefs dismissed the other because he would not abide by peace. He left their presence disgraced but unharmed.” Isarra smiled. “You can ask to be sure. We would join you in the fight against dragons and the Singer. The only humans we’ve interest in fighting are those aligned with her.”

Apparently satisfied, Harrík kicked his horse forward, leading them down to the village. Tern fought not to glance back at Isarra as she stayed behind. Theoretically, the an’reik were not their enemy. The dragons were—those beasts who burned villages, devoured child and warrior alike, and ensnared the weak-minded. Isarra and her band had been nothing but amiable toward Tern’s small clan. He had witnessed no blood-drinking or human sacrifices like the legends described. No fits of madness, just people with strange powers. Somewhat creepy people, but not his enemies.

Assuming, of course, that Isarra told the truth. That was the mission today—investigate L’rang and ensure that the an’reik within had brought no harm. If they found it so, Isarra and her band would be invaluable allies against Alísa’s dragons.

Hoofbeats changed from plods to sharp clops as the long grasses gave way to stone pathways. Just before reaching the village, Harrík turned his horse to look back at them. 

“I sensed no lies in Isarra, but we must be sure. Karn has sided with the dragons. It is up to us to protect the villages he has abandoned. Stay in pairs and speak with the villagers. Find out if the an’reik presence is truly peaceful. I’ll go to the chiefs.” 

With that, Harrík pushed toward the center of the village, the rest following his instructions. Tern glanced around, skimming over the shops. Kallar’s family would be a reliable source of information.

Tern aimed for the slayers’ quarter, clicking his horse forward. Another slayer did the same, coming alongside. Alsum, a former Tellas-man with olive skin and a scout’s sharp eyes.

“You seem to know where you’re going,” Alsum said. “Mind if I join you?”

Tern grunted his assent. They rode in silence for a time, nodding to villagers as they passed. Shopkeepers stood with their wares before stone buildings, the most affluent ones under awnings made of dragon scales dulled by the sun. Living only a few miles from the foot of the Serpent’s Fangs required everything to be fireproof. Village-bound slayers patrolled the streets fully armored, ready should dragons attack.

Were they more on guard compared to Tern’s last visit? Or was he merely projecting his own wariness onto them? 

An’reik also wandered openly, marked by ragged-edged cloaks and an air of power even most warriors didn’t possess. One stood at the baker’s shop as Tern passed it, giving coin for his bread as any normal human might.

Tern grabbed his water-skin from the saddle horn and caught his partner’s eye. Rather than wary, Alsum appeared calm and assured. Alsum had refused Isarra at first, had even attacked her. Another Tellas-man named Yarlan and a Karns-woman had joined him, but Isarra had subdued them all. After a private talk, Alsum returned with Isarra while the other two went free. Apparently, what she said had convinced him completely.

A flash of movement caught Tern’s eye. A hooded figure, about five feet in stature, ducked through an alleyway between shops, carrying a small bundle. Though the behavior might speak ‘thief’ to some, Tern hesitated. The figure’s gait seemed familiar, and something inside pulled him toward them.

“Hold on,” Tern told Alsum, pulling his horse to a stop and swinging down. Moving swiftly, he ducked into the alleyway after the figure, his partner shadowing him.

A shushing sound came from around the corner, sounding like a child’s voice. Hand on his sword, Tern rounded the corner and found a dagger inches from his chest.

Instinct took over. Tern swiped his arm through the space between him and his attacker, his dragon-scale bracer protecting him from the blade as he pushed his opponent’s arm across their body. The force of his movement caused his smaller opponent to turn from him, and he easily got one arm around their neck and grabbed their wrist to prevent a second attempt.

The child’s voice returned—this time a fear-filled “Mamá!”—and Tern looked beyond his attacker. Two boys huddled in the shadows behind an older man. The man’s fine tunic was torn at the shoulder, right where a pin might have fastened a sash. All three seemed familiar.

The cloaked attacker struggled in his grip, the voice desperate and feminine. “Let us go! By Maker’s light and all things holy, leave us alone!”

The woman’s tone and the fear in the children’s eyes tightened Tern’s chest. “I’m not going to hurt you. Drop the dagger and I’ll release you.”

She struggled all the more, stamping her foot and making Tern dance back. Alsum forced the weapon from her hand, drawing a small whimper. Tern let go. He was a warrior trained to kill dragons, not frighten mothers and children. 

The woman whirled to face him, arms out to shield the boys from view. Tern recognized her. Yarlan’s wife. She had fled with their sons before Yarlan and Alsum attacked Isarra. 

“Essie? What are you doing, sneaking around and pulling a knife on us?”

Essie tensed as he took a step forward, baring her teeth. “You won’t have my children, too!”

Tern lifted his palms in a gesture of peace. “I just want to know what’s going on. Where’s Yarlan?”

At her husband’s name, the fire in Essie’s eyes dimmed. “You don’t know, then.” The blaze returned. “What happened when you sheep followed the Maker’s enemies? Did you truly believe they would let him go?!”

“Hush.” The older man placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t let the others discover you.”

“They did let him go,” Tern assured. “Alsum was there. He just hasn’t found you yet.” After three days. That was an awfully long time.

Tern shook his doubts away. “Tell her, Alsum.”

“It’s true,” his partner said. “Yarlan refused and went free. Are you sure he isn’t waiting for you elsewhere?”

Essie’s eyes turned to daggers. “I went back, serpent. I found his body.”

Pieces fell into place in Tern’s mind, filling him with equal parts horror and rage. Alsum had lied. In the space of a second, he looked from Essie’s raging tears, to the boys huddled in fear behind her, to the man he now recognized as one of L’rang’s songweavers, disgraced without his advisor’s sash and pin. 

Tern grabbed for his sword and whirled to face Alsum. His opponent’s weapon was already ringing from its sheath. Tern blocked, steel colliding as they pressed blades. 

Alsum gave a crazed grin. “I never was as good a liar as the mistress.”

Tern brought his sword into a defensive position. “Essie, get out of here!”

He stumbled as Alsum sprang forward, blocking just in time. Alsum pressed another attack, then another, eyes wild. Tern fell back two steps, feinted, then pushed his own attack. He slashed at Alsum’s middle. Alsum twisted away and got close again. Tern wasn’t fast enough. Fiery pain ripped through him as Alsum cut deep into the bicep of his shield arm. 

Tern cried out, arm hanging limp at his side. That would throw off his balance, and Alsum was already larger and stronger than him. 

He could not win this fight.

But losing now would mean leaving Essie and her boys at the mercy of the an’reik. They needed more time.

Tern dodged right. 

What would Kallar do?

Pain zinged up his arm as he blocked. 

Use his pain.

He stumbled against the wall.

Break the slayers’ code.

Tern gritted his teeth. He grasped onto the pain in his arm and pulled it forward, forming it into a telepathic spear. He had only ever mind-speared dragons—the thought of using his powers against another human sickened him. But not so much as failing Essie and the boys would.

Alsum swung again. Tern blocked, releasing his mind-spear with the clang of their weapons. Alsum roared with pain and fell back a step. Tern formed another spear and shot it at him like he would a dragon. This time, however, his telepathy struck something solid, then ricocheted back into himself. 

Tern screamed, sliding down the wall as his knees gave out. Another shock came as Alsum retaliated with a psychic attack that made Tern’s vision white. Sight returned just as Alsum raised his sword above his head.

Thunk.

Hot blood spattered over Tern as an arrow lodged in Alsum’s stomach. He rolled before Alsum’s sword could fall, arm protesting every jolt and bit of dirt. Looking up, he found Essie sitting atop his horse and nocking another of his arrows. She shot Alsum again in the chest, then a third time as he fell. The traitor didn’t move, face in the dirt.

L’rang’s songweaver rushed from holding Alsum’s horse with the two boys to help Tern up. “Do you know a village untouched by an’reik?”

“Yes,” Tern said without thinking. His ears still rang from the telepathic attack. And how much blood had he lost?

“Good. Take them, protect them.” The songweaver nodded to Yarlan’s family. “We’ve been trying to find a quiet way to get them out past the an’reik for days, but it seems you now need an expedient escape rather than a silent one.”

Tern sheathed his sword and placed a hand on his throbbing head. “But my clan—they need—to know.”

“I will do what I can. What I cannot do is protect this family in the wilds.” He grimaced as his eyes fell on Tern’s arm, then pasted on a grim smile. “Even wounded, you can do better.”

The sound of ripping cloth drew Tern’s eyes to Essie. She passed a piece from the bottom of her skirt to the songweaver. “Bind above the wound to stop the bleeding. I’ll clean it when we are safe. Please.” Her eyes implored. “Help me get my children away from them.”

Tern swallowed, then nodded. He ground his teeth as the songweaver pulled the cloth too tight, then approached the horse carrying the boys. Tern knew this territory and chiefs who would never bow to the Nameless Ones.

Then again, he had once thought Karn would never bow to the Dragon Singer. That Trísse would never yield her mind to a dragon. That Kallar would never capitulate to the beasts.

After the songweaver transferred the trembling younger boy to sit in front of his mother, Tern sat behind the older. Giving a word of encouragement to his own horse, he kicked Alsum’s forward, trotting them through the alleyways until they could run.

How quickly the world could fall apart.

1 | In The Gap

Fire flashed on the mountain, marking the place Alísa’s clan would be tested once more. She tightened her hold on Sesína’s spine as the dragoness banked toward the battle, their hearts racing with a mixture of anxiety and excitement that was wholly them.

Thirteen dragon-rider pairs flew with them, some well-versed in standing in the gap between warring clans, while others were on their first mission. All were ready for battle with an eagerness Alísa didn’t have. She belonged in the sky with them, but she would never relish the fight. 

Sesína entered Alísa’s mind via their Illumination bond—the deep telepathic connection dragons formed with a parent upon hatching. 

“Nor should you relish it. You’re built to bring peace.” A bit of mischief flavored the dragoness’ thoughts. “I, on the other hand, am a fire-breathing, enemy-humbling, aerobatic ball of battle-prowess. And awesomeness—don’t forget awesomeness.”

Alísa shook her head, though her lips curved upward. “That’s a bit much, even for you.”

“Anything to make the alpha smile.”

Alísa patted Sesína’s ebony scales. Pulling an errant mahogany curl from her face, she set her eyes on Alanti, the blue dragoness flying far ahead of them. Alísa had formed a peace treaty with Alanti’s alpha only two days prior. She intended to go to the nearby village of Bezin with her father in three days, when Karn arrived with his clan. Their clans had worked together this way for the past month since forming their alliance.

Three days shouldn’t have mattered. Village-bound slayers almost never attacked caves. Yet this morning, Alanti had appeared at Alísa’s cave with news of an attack on her clan. Something had changed.

“Connect me to Alanti,” Alísa said.

Sesína did as she asked, establishing a telepathic link. Alanti’s fear and determination caused Alísa’s heart to race. She breathed against her pounding dragon empathy, then spoke.

“Can you reach your clan, Alanti? How goes the battle?”

“The slayers are close to the caves,” Alanti said, a growl in her voice. “Many dragons have landed to block them and now face swords and spears.”

Alísa’s thoughts raced. Ahead, black smoke billowed from the mountain-side. How much was fueled by the bodies of fallen slayers—her people? Yet the slayers attacked unprovoked. She preferred not to arm either side, but non-combatants were at risk. Hatchlings. She couldn’t let harm come to them.

“Connect to your alpha,” Alísa ordered. “Since I can reach you telepathically and you can reach them, I will channel my strength song to them through you.”

Alanti’s fear lessened. “By Maker’s wings. Thank you, Singer.”

The thread of their communication opened wider, allowing in the frantic thoughts and emotions of battle. Alísa gritted her teeth against the influx of pain—slashed legs, ripped wings, a blinded eye—then released it in a long, desperate note.

At the sound of her cry, the dragons and riders of her clan began connecting to her. Their presence bolstered her. Among them, she felt Koriana’s fortitude, Graydonn’s steadiness, Falier’s belief. Their emotions wove into her song, refilling her as she poured out her strength to them and their allies.

This war has brought us hearts of stone
Full of winter’s icy chill
Its fire fills our aching bones
Burning as our blood we spill

Now hear my song and feel the cool
Abandon heart for lung and limb
Renew your strength, while fire pools
Within your hearts, new life within

Alísa stopped singing once her dragons flew at their maximum speed. The song’s effects would last a few minutes, and she needed to conserve her voice.

“Alanti—”

But Alanti cut off her communication to Sesína just as Alísa started speaking. The sapphire dragoness speared into the fray, her flight buoyed by the Singer’s power and love for her clan. There would be no help from her to calm the dragons.

Alísa spoke to her warriors. “Koriana, Briek—you and your squad focus on the dragons still in the air. Keep them back so the slayers don’t have to watch the sky. Tora and T’lan, your squad will follow me to stand between the armies on the ground. Ensure the dragons do not attack. My squad will face the slayers.”

Nearly at the mountain, the acrid scent of smoke tickled Alísa’s throat. Dragons roared, men shouted, and fire crackled over what brush settled on the rocky slopes. A rush of wind revealed the spot where the dragons stood their ground, desperate to protect their caves.

Alísa took a steadying breath. “Move.”

Sesína trumpeted a battle-cry. The rest of the clan, dragon and rider alike, joined her call, drawing the combatants’ attention. Koriana veered away, her squad of four dragon-rider pairs following her to circle the dragons in the air. Sesína dove for the battle-lines before the cave, aiming for the space between the two armies.

Alísa shout-sang as Sesína landed, announcing to all that the Dragon Singer had arrived. Sesína flared her wings and thrashed her tail as Alísa slid to the sloped ground. Slayers fell back, wide-eyed at their sudden appearance. Behind her, Alanti’s clan roared their battle-readiness, until Alísa’s dragons blocked their way.

Despite the haze of the smoke, Alísa soon found the face she sought. Lorin, the chief slayer of Bezin, led his men with rage in his eyes. Sweat plastered his black hair to his neck, and his tanned skin was even darker with dirt and ash.

How she wished her father were here already—he had a good rapport with Lorin. She was just Karn’s quiet daughter to the slayers of Bezin. But she could remain so no longer.

“Lorin.” She lifted her hands in a peaceful gesture. “You must stop this. These d—d—dragons are under my p-p-protection, and they mean no harm t—t-to you and yours.”

“So it’s true, then.” Chief Lorin spat on the ground. “Your father told me you’d been captured. Asked my help to find and save you. Now here you are, siding with them.”

“I fight to p-protect the Maker’s iompróir anam.” A few slayers balked at the claim, but Alísa pressed on. “Skinned or scaled, it makes no d—difference.”

As if on cue, riders slid to the ground and stepped forward to show their allegiance. She threw a glance at them, meeting the eyes of Rassím, Trísse, and others. 

“We would tell you much,” she said. “Stories of friendship and heroism, if you and your men would listen.”

Jaws snapped at the air behind her, and Alísa pivoted to see the emerald alpha Harazím flaring his wings. “You call this alliance, Singer? They attack us, and you offer them words of comfort?!”

Alísa let out a quiet breath. The slayers raised their swords, unable to hear the dragon because of the shields around their minds.

“Alpha Harazím asks why I g—give a chance for p—p—p-p—” —Ignore the smirks and stares. Breathe.— “for p-peace to those who attack my allies. I d—d—do so because we were all like you, once. We have all k-k-k-killed and been k-killed for a lie.”

She returned to Harazím. “W—war brings many evils, and it will never end until all p-p-p-parties have both truth and the chance t—to act on it. As the daughter of Karn, I know your c-c-clan has attacked villages before, and not merely slayers who attacked you first.” 

Alísa’s boots crunched on rock as she faced Lorin again. “But Harazím’s clan has vowed not to attack villages anymore, j—just as multiple village-bound clans have vowed not to storm caves. Dragons are not soulless beasts any more than slayers are heartless monsters. We have all b—b—believed lies, but my allies have p-p-proven the t-truth.”

She held out her hand to the chief. “I will defend these dragons, but first I would give you the same chance I have g—given them. End this madness.”

The battlefield was silent but for crackling flames. Alísa released her empathy, letting its misty power flow out to feel the surrounding emotions. She ignored her clanmates’ firm courage and focused in front of her, on the chief with loosening shoulders. Curiosity lapped at the edges of her powers—curiosity that was overtaking his anger.

She had him!

Lorin stepped forward, the tip of his sword low to the ground. Then another man wearing the yellow paint of a second reached for his arm and halted him.

“Tsorr said this would happen.” The second gripped his weapon tighter. “Her power is in her voice—lulling us to sleep like a serpent.”

A strange humor washed through Alísa, out of place while standing between two armies. No one had ever attributed power to her speaking voice.

“M—my power is in my songs. I am not t-t-t-trying to trick you.”

A shadow flew over the mountain, and the buzz of connection to her clan shifted as more minds entered. Saynan—an ice dragon and one of her betas—had finally arrived with his riders. Dragons made room for him to land, but Bezin’s slayers reacted with fear. Chief Lorin fell back like a spooked horse.

“Yet you bring more against us! How can we trust you?”

“Trust me,” a familiar voice asserted.

Boots hit the ground, and Karn strode forward, leaving behind Saynan and his rider. Karn’s brown eyes softened as they met Alísa’s, then returned to those of a wayfaring chief. He strode past her to stand before Lorin in his full armor made of leather and red dragon scales.

“Alísa speaks the truth. She and her clan have proven themselves repeatedly by protecting both races. You would do well to listen.”

Lorin scoffed. “I hardly think that the word of her father is proof. You would be the easiest for her to turn.”

“One would think,” Karn chuckled, a hint of regret lacing the edges. “You know my zeal and stubbornness. If you need more proof, know that Tella, too, has accepted peace. The villages of Annakím and Vennia have heard us, as have dragon clans throughout the region.”

Lorin’s second sneered. “We know all this. Tsorr warned us of your treachery, warned that we would be next. Many may believe a lie—it does not mean we should as well!”

“Who is Tsorr?” Alísa stepped forward. She knew the names of Bezin’s leadership. This must be someone new.

“A messenger who told us of the Dragon Singer,” Lorin said, though he addressed Karn rather than her. “News beyond that of your clan’s song. He raises many questions I would have answered.”

“Then we shall speak with him,” Karn said. “Return home, Lorin. Vow to leave these dragons alone until we have answered your questions. It will take a day to return to your village?”

Lorin grunted affirmation.

“Then we will come in two.” Karn looked back at Alísa. “Is this acceptable?”

Alísa nodded, glad to let him take the lead here.

Karn returned to Lorin. “We shall see you then.”

The second’s brow raised in question. After a moment of scrutiny, Lorin sheathed his sword.

“Move out. We are finished here—for now.”

With that, Lorin pushed through his men and marched down the mountain. Some immediately followed his example. Others looked to his second, uncertain. With a loud grunt, he shoved his weapon into its sheath and slunk after his chief, the rest following behind.

Questions wafted through the clan’s mind-link, prompting Alísa’s attention. While she didn’t expect Lorin and his slayers to return, she also couldn’t simply trust that they wouldn’t. She grasped onto the Illumination bond.

“Sesína, please make sure Harazím can hear me as I speak to the clan.” 

Sesína had it done before Alísa completed her sentence. Alísa found the clan’s mind-link next and pushed her words through it. 

“Well done, all. With Harazím’s leave, three dragon-rider pairs will remain here in case Lorin does not keep his word.” 

Harazím sent a mental affirmative, and Alísa continued. “I have two riders versed in healing. They have helped dragons before, stitching wounds closed and applying salves of mixed herbs that speed recovery. Would you like their help?”

Harazím rumbled in his chest. “That would be acceptable. Thank you, Singer.”

Alísa assigned Rassím and Trísse to check the wounded and three pairs to stay with the clan until her meeting with the slayers. Sesína trotted off with the healers to facilitate, as she had done before. When she toned down her sass, she was quite good at ensuring understanding between parties.

“Please. My sass is charming.”

Assured all was in hand, Alísa returned to her father. Karn had watched as she worked with the dragons, his expression a mixture of pride and the confused interest that always rose when she communicated telepathically. Despite being a telepath, he was hesitant to join the mind-link. The slayers’ code taught never to use one’s powers on another human—they even frowned on simple communication links. Their code was his, and he hadn’t been around dragons long enough to contemplate change.

Alísa hugged him. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Darrin said it was urgent.” He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t know how your riders do it—I thought I might fall with how fast the dragon flew.”

“Saynan,” she supplied. This was more important for her father to learn than telepathic communication. Dragons had names, and with that came the reminder of their status as iompróir anam—soul-bearers.

“Saynan,” Karn repeated, giving her a knowing look. “I will remember to thank him by name when he takes me back. And, speaking of” —he backed away a step— “I should speak to the clan. We must move more quickly to reach Bezin in two days’ time.”

Alísa smiled sweetly. “I can always send dragons for you again.”

Karn chuckled. “I do not think Kallar is ready to ride a dragon.”

Alísa’s heart shriveled as thoughts of Kallar filled her. Her father didn’t know that Kallar, too, was a Dragon Singer. Nor did he know how much Kallar resented Alísa for helping unlock the power, which now forced him to feel dragon emotions. Not that their relationship had ever been good.

She pushed the thoughts away. “Thank you again for your help, Papá.”

“Always, my Lísa.”

With that, Karn headed for Saynan and Darrin. 

“You let your father take over again.”

Alísa tried not to let her mental sigh travel the communication line, but was sure she failed. Koriana approached her, Briek almost jogging at her side to keep pace.

“You and your squad did well,” Alísa told them both. “Thank you.”

“Alísa-Dragon-Singer.” Koriana growled softly. “You do not need him.”

“I thought she balanced it well enough,” Briek said. The beads at the ends of his many warrior’s braids rattled as he came to a stop in front of her. “The point of having allied chiefs and alphas is to have their help in communicating to their respective races. It’s the only reason I’m here.”

His dark eyes sparkled with his last sentence, making Alísa chuckle. Koriana, however, was not amused.

“I do not dispute that, but a dragoness does not allow other alphas to decide for her clan. You should not have let your father dictate the terms.”

“But he said exactly what I wanted.”

“And established himself as the leader in the other chief’s eyes.”

Alísa shook her head. “What was I supposed to do? Come up with an entirely different plan? Or tell him, ‘No, actually,’ then say the same thing?”

“You could have asserted yourself before he gave his plan.”

Alísa pinched the bridge of her nose. She would never get Koriana to understand the struggle of her stammer, nor how preferable it was to let someone she trusted do the talking. She and Papá had a rhythm now, and he had stuck to it today. That was good enough for her.

“Headache, Líse?”

Frustration gave way to a smile, and Alísa turned to find Falier and Graydonn. The pair walked toward her side-by-side over the rocky slope. Graydonn’s talons gripped the rock with ease, while Falier walked uphill of him with a hand on the dragon’s green withers.

“J—just thinking.” Alísa waved goodbye to Koriana and Briek, then closed the distance to Graydonn and Falier. Reaching for Falier, she laced her fingers with his. “You two make it through unscathed?”

“One of the airborne dragons flamed at us before she figured out who we were,” Graydonn said, amber eyes brightening with humor. “But we were quick and avoided burns.”

“He says ‘we’ like I had any part in the reaction time.” Falier grinned. “You were brilliant with the chief.”

“Thank you.” Alísa pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed his bearded cheek. It still made her happy, seeing his formerly clean-shaven face now sporting a close-trimmed beard, all because she had told him she liked it.

“I think you got through to him even before your father showed up.” 

“Most certainly,” Graydonn agreed. 

“I just hope Tsorr, whoever he is, is as open t—to new ideas.” 

Alísa hoped her smile didn’t look as forced as it was. Her worst defeats were never on the battlefield. They were within villages, where the eyes of those judging her made her feel like a cornered animal. But her friends were right, she was coming into her own, and her allies were strong and growing in number.

For the first time in her life, it seemed peace was finally within reach.

2 | The Messenger

Alísa led her dragons to land a ten-minute walk from the village of Bezin, where their approach would be less threatening. Despite the coarse grasses, the dragons settled comfortably on their bellies. They would wait here while the humans faced the scrutiny of the villagers.

Nearby, Karn dismounted his horse alongside his people—Alísa’s mother Hanah, and Karn’s apprentice Kallar. Patting Sesína’s neck in goodbye, Alísa headed for them. Her human representatives accompanied her—Falier with his hand in hers and a carefree mask covering his nerves, Briek with powerful strides tamed to their pace, and Tenza with her quiet confidence. 

Alísa’s clan had shifted since facing Karn and Tella’s combined wayfaring clans. With her decision to remain in the west, some of Briek’s slayers declared that they, too, would remain. Briek in turn swore himself to Alísa’s leadership and now acted as one of her betas. 

When her dragons took warriors back to Me’ran, they returned with the families of the slayers who remained with Alísa. Tenza came as well, largely due to Alísa’s message that Kallar was her grandson. Looking at them, Alísa could see a slight resemblance. Tenza’s hair, though lightened with gray, bore the same black base and thick texture as Kallar’s. His eyes were a brighter blue than Namor’s, but they held a bit of Tenza’s almond shape.

Kallar’s stance turned rigid the moment he noticed his grandmother. Rather than meet Tenza’s gaze or stare her down, he looked away. He hadn’t spoken to her once, ignoring her or leaving whenever she tried to communicate with him.

It made Alísa’s blood boil. Kallar knew who she was to him, had seen her honor and sorrows through Alísa’s memories, yet he remained hostile. All Tenza wanted was to connect with one of the few remaining pieces of her daughter, the late Dragon Singer Allara. Maybe someday, Alísa could take Tenza to L’rang to visit Kallar’s younger brother R’lann. R’lann would accept her without hesitation.

Falier squeezed her hand and a buzz of telepathic connection entered her mind. “You’re angry. What’s going on?”

Alísa sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just—why can’t he even try for Tenza?”

“Did you expect him to?” Falier’s distaste flowed through their connection. “You can’t focus there. Not right now.”

“I know. Sorry.”

He shook his head with a light humor, then nodded at the village. “No more apologies, alpha-chief. Eyes up. You’ve got minds to change.”

Alísa straightened. He was right. She closed the distance between her and her father’s party. Her arms ached to hug her parents, but with people coming out to greet them, now wasn’t the time. Instead, she gave a little wave, then came alongside her father as they continued on to Bezin. 

Grass gave way to dirt and gravel, the greenery cleared away long ago in hopes of stopping dragon-fire. For the same reason, they built every building of stone or brick. Though Alísa had known such constructions all her life, she had gotten used to the warm welcome of the east’s wooden structures. How strange this must be for Falier, villages full of dead buildings.

Bezin itself, however, was very much alive. The cobblestone paths held many people, all hurrying toward the center of town. Would the entire village attend? The thought made Alísa’s breath shake. How was it she could face angry dragons, yet crowds of villagers terrified her?

But I’m done running. I was made for this.

Sesína’s pride washed through her. “That’s my alpha.”

Alísa and her companions stopped at the edge of the village, where Chief Lorin, his second, and the village chief awaited their arrival. Lorin clasped arms with Karn, appearing the least wary of the three. The second glared at Alísa, while the normal chief, a younger man with pale skin and blond hair, looked how Alísa felt—nervous, yet ready to play his part.

“Come, old friend.” Lorin gestured into the village. “You shall make your case in the square. We shall see if your answers are sufficient, or if next time we meet will be at the end of our blades.”

He said it so cavalierly, yet he kept his emotions locked tight behind a telepathic shield. Did he use humor to hide his fear, or was this just a show? She couldn’t read him.

Sesína chuckled. “Imagine if you weren’t an empath and could only read tone, expression, and body language. You’d be lost.”

Alísa hid her smirk as she followed Lorin. “How do normals function?”

Sesína snickered, then returned to her silence, allowing Alísa time to gather her thoughts. Two holders met them just within the village to take the horses to a guest stable. A few minutes later, they entered the square, where all Bezin gathered to listen. Slayers stood armored among the normals, weapons at their sides. Falier tensed at the sight.

“Does that mean trouble?”

Alísa returned a negative. “It’s a show of their strength. If they expected trouble, there wouldn’t be civilians here.”

She scanned the crowd and most of them stared back. The rest instead watched a man in the center of the square. He wore the blues and whites of a messenger—noncombatant colors, though he also wore a knife strap across his chest like Rassím. Over his tunic lay a brown cloak with ragged edges that appeared more stylized than ripped. His pale skin was slightly sun-kissed and his hawkish eyes a hazel-brown. 

The man smiled and spoke smoothly. “And so our opponent enters.”

Alísa stared at him, trying to decipher what she sensed. The crowd held a mixture of fear and something akin to calm that she couldn’t quite place. Calm felt green with peaceful life to her, while this was more akin to tent leathers pulled tight to avoid wrinkles. The same almost-calm held strong in her ‘opponent.’

Lorin looked to the people. “The Dragon Singer and her allies come to answer Tsorr’s accusations. Make your case, Karns-daughter.” 

Alísa breathed deeply as Lorin took his place between her and Tsorr. That was her cue.

Eldra Bria, give me words.

“Some of you know me. You’ve s—seen me at my father’s side as he worked t—to protect your village. Many of you have heard the tale of how I t-t-t-t-turned to the d—dragons and empowered them with my songs. What you don’t know is what happened in between.” 

She paused, taking a moment to breathe past the nerves building up inside her.

“Like all of you, I g—grew up in fear of the dragons. I looked at them and saw only b—beasts who had sold their souls to evil. I knew the stories of d—d—demonic voices and hearts that only found joy in destruction. Worst of all, my empathy c-c-c-c” —breathe— “c-connected to them, bringing me to tears as I watched hatchlings fight in the ceremony circle. My greatest shame as the d—daughter of a slayer.” 

Alísa’s throat was tight. The longer she spoke, the more pronounced her stammer became. If only she could pause longer, breathe deeply for a few seconds, but such silence might invite someone else to interject. She settled for a quick swallow. 

“B—but then I met a dragon. I felt his joy in simple flight, saw the honor in his actions t-t-t-toward me, and heard his voice that p-p-prayed to the Maker for my safety. Here wasn’t a b—bloodthirsty beast or soulless demon, but a fellow anam. A t-t-terrible, life-changing t-truth—one that my family was not yet ready for.”

She smiled gently at her parents, hoping to show she was not shaming them. Karn had agreed that his initial refusal was a truth that needed to be shared. The villagers needed to know that he had not believed her solely because she was his daughter. 

“And so I went to the d—dragons and lived among them. I learned to see them t-truly, as individuals who m—make choices for good and for evil j—just as we humans do. As I did, I discovered the w—war between our k-k-k-kinds is not a holy one fought against soulless monsters, but one that hurts iomproír anam on both sides.” 

She lifted her hands to the crowd in entreaty. “We needn’t be at war. Already, my c-c-clan of dragons and slayers have protected p-peoples of both races and won p-p-peace for them. The d—dragons in the nearby mountain have vowed to stand down. I urge you to do the same. End the violence between our p-peoples. Join me in seeking peace.”

Her speech finally over, Alísa lowered her hands. She focused on loosening the tension in her throat. She would have to speak again soon.

Tsorr clapped a slow, mocking applause. His voice was smooth and rippled through the air like a gentle stream. “Well, that sounded difficult. Congratulations, you’ve aired your lies beautifully. Didn’t she do a splendid job?”

The people seemed at a loss. A few smirked, others frowned, and some politely clapped, all more embarrassing than helpful. Alísa did her best to stand firm and keep her hands still rather than worry the fabric of her skirt. His first blow was one she had taken many times, yet she had never truly been able to block it.

“So refreshing to hear the ideas of the young,” Tsorr said in his charismatic tone. “They invent the most engaging stories. Monsters as allies. Who could have imagined it but someone unburdened by experience?” 

‘Unburdened’? Alísa gritted her teeth. As if she hadn’t grown up among slayers and witnessed the aftermath of countless battles!

A surge of determination and—Compassion? It felt wrong.—filled the air as Tsorr pointed to someone in the crowd. 

“E’mun, you spoke to me of your father’s death by dragon-fire.” He pointed to another. “K’hanne, your injury—was it created by man, or by beast? Zapharr, how many livestock have you lost to them?” Finally, he looked at Lorin. “You have not forgotten your people’s woes simply because of a child’s fantasies?”

Nods and agreeing murmurs spread through the people. Chief Lorin, too, seemed swayed as his agreement wafted through the astral plane. Irritatingly, Alísa found her own heart wavering at Tsorr’s arguments. And was that one of her own allies behind her also agreeing? Kallar? No, his shield would be up— 

Sesína pressed encouragement to Alísa. “Don’t focus there. You know what you speak is true. Keep going.”

Alísa shook herself and pulled her empathy in tight against the distraction. She chose her words carefully, hoping to avoid those that would make her stumble. 

“Is it fantasy that my dragons and slayers have fought to defend both races? Ask any behind me and they will t-t-tell you it is so.”

“Yet you yourself told us your empathy connects to dragons uncontrollably.” Again, Alísa’s heart wavered as Tsorr spoke. “They gained your mind, poisoned you against your own kind, and manipulated you until their lies became your truth. A ‘truth’ with which you have infected other weak-minded individuals.”

‘Weak-minded’? Alísa almost wanted to laugh. None of her party could be described so. She opened her mouth to speak in defense of her people, but her father spoke first.

“The dragons prey on the weak-minded?” Karn’s voice held a dangerous quiet as he stalked past Alísa toward Tsorr. “You dare accuse while attempting the same?”

Alísa’s heart beat faster. What was he doing? This wasn’t the plan!

Chief Lorin placed himself between Karn and Tsorr. “Get back in your place, Karn. What are you about?”

Karn didn’t move. “When we met, Lorin, your telepathic shield was up. Tell me, is it still? Or has it fallen as your friend here spread his venom?”

Alísa looked at Lorin. He had let his guard down at some point. She had sensed his slow agreement with Tsorr’s arguments, and now she felt his confusion.

“Or the rest of you slayers,” Karn continued. “Has your hold slipped inexplicably during the last few minutes?”

Tsorr squinted at Karn. A change flowed over the astral plane—that strange not-calm again. The pull against wrinkles rather than the gentle call to peace.

Multiple slayers in the crowd shifted, some shaking their heads to clear them. Lorin muttered something, then spoke as though waking from a dream.

“Yes, there is something—”

A surge of protection collided with Alísa as her mother grabbed her arm and pulled her back, nearly throwing her into Falier. Alísa made to ask for an explanation, but her father spoke again.

“I’ve met this power once before,” Karn growled. “One that opens minds to manipulation and breaks down even a slayer’s telepathic shield. Your ‘friend’ is an’reik!”

Alísa’s heart trembled at the declaration, visions of dark clouds and a giant, brutish dragon filling her mind’s eye. Across the distance, Sesína went on high alert, her growl filling Alísa’s mind. The crowd shifted with gasps and exclamations of outrage. His people divided, Chief Lorin spoke.

“Tsorr has been nothing but affable, and I have sensed no influence before today—when your daughter, whose power is in her voice, spoke to us. You had better be able to prove this claim!”

A new voice entered the fray, growling and reluctant. “Then ask yourself who you’re being influenced toward.” Kallar came to Karn’s side. “Besides, her power only works when she sings.”

Karn glared at Tsorr. “If you need proof, Lorin, check the astral plane.”

Tsorr chuckled and lifted his hands in a sign of peace. “No need. I will admit our dragon-loving friend is correct. I do hold power, given by an Eldra stripped of her name simply because she desired to give humanity the ability to stand against dragons. I even used this power—a heightened form of empathy—as I spoke to you. My only wish was for you to hear the truth instead of her lies.”

Karn laid a hand on his sword. “Lorin, allow me to rid your village of this serpent.”

“Ask yourself this,” Tsorr said, “who has harmed Bezin in the past—an’reik, or dragons?” 

His words soothed in Alísa’s ear and mind. She pushed her empathy against the manipulation and prayed others would do the same. 

Tsorr gestured to Alísa. “Will you believe those aligned with dangerous beasts over those who ally with great spiritual beings?”

Lorin crossed his arms. “The Maker and his Eldír are the only spiritual beings from whom I accept counsel.”

“Bah. They won’t protect you from the dragons. Only—”

A sword rang from its sheath, drawing all eyes as Kallar lunged past Lorin and plunged his blade into Tsorr’s stomach. Tsorr’s eyes widened, then rolled back in death as Kallar yanked out his weapon. Tsorr’s body fell to the ground.

No one moved. Alísa could barely breathe as Lorin’s face turned red with fury.

“How dare you! Attacking an unarmed man under my hospitality. Even Karn himself did not dare touch him!”

Kallar matched Lorin’s glare. “You were just going to keep talking while his empathy affected the people? He admitted it with his own mouth. If you won’t protect them, I will.”

Lorin drew himself up, affronted, but Karn stepped in.

“The deed is done. Regardless of how, Tsorr’s threat to your village is no more. In our recent encounter with an’reik, they attacked my clan with powers of speed, hellflames, and dark mists. Who knows how else Tsorr might have harmed them? Kallar’s act was right—forgive any fault of impropriety, or else place it on me. He did as I should have.”

Alísa watched, tense. Her father’s gentler words did not escalate Lorin further, but they didn’t placate him either. How could she salvage this?

Calm assurance wafted from her mother as she stepped past Alísa to approach Lorin. Her voice was impossibly even.

“Chief Lorin, despite Tsorr’s manipulations, you brought us here. You proved that even the powers of the Nameless cannot sway a man seeking truth. Let us begin again, without the stench of the Dark One in our midst. The Dragon Singer has proven that peace is achievable. You witnessed it two days ago, when she protected not only the dragons, but you as well. Search your heart, ask your own questions, and believe.”

The tension dissipated as Alísa’s mother spoke. All knew Hanah. Throughout her years of wayfaring, she had proven herself to the people of each village as she lived and worked among them while Karn marched on the mountains. As the villagers relaxed, Alísa wished she could change how she had behaved within the villages growing up. Introverted and ashamed of her stammer, Alísa had always hidden in the shadows, helping but never connecting. Perhaps if she had acted differently, Bezin would be more receptive now.

Lorin gave one last look at Kallar and Tsorr’s body. Closing his eyes, he breathed out and returned to Hanah. “There is wisdom in your words. Very well. Let us begin again.”

3 | Blessing

Falier hated feeling redundant, even—perhaps especially—in the wake of success. The talks in Bezin went far more smoothly with Tsorr gone. Lorin and the chief of the village both agreed to peace soon after. There, Falier was content to support Alísa through his presence. 

Here, though, sitting amid Alísa and Karn’s leadership at the outskirts of the wayfarers’ camp, Falier found himself drumming his fingers on his thighs as his mind wandered. They spoke of an’reik and wanted him here since he had witnessed Tsorr, but he didn’t truly have anything to say on the matter, nor did anyone invite him to speak.

“I don’t like it,” Alísa’s uncle L’non said. “An’reik are supposed to keep to the shadows, waiting in the wilderness for some poor soul to run afoul of them. But this marks our second encounter with them in only a few months.”

Karn rubbed his beard. “Not to mention word of more in the south.”

Koriana rumbled in her chest. “That is an oddity among your kind?”

L’non nodded curtly. After a silent moment, Alísa elaborated. 

“I d—don’t think any of us have encountered an’reik until now. Besides Rorenth.”

Falier held back a shudder. He could still remember that brute’s power slashing and biting at his own as he, Graydonn, and the dreki fought to mind-choke him together.

Koriana clicked in her throat thoughtfully. “Though I am sure some an’reik dragons hide within clans with decent alphas, many of them flock to clans like Rorenth’s as vultures to a carcass.”

Falier whispered to Graydonn through their bond so the others wouldn’t hear. “Then, we probably fought more than one an’reik that day?”

Graydonn kept his eyes trained on the meeting. “I did not notice any besides him, but they might have been fighting the slayers, or else their powers were not easily detectable.”

“Powers like what?”

“Shouldn’t we be paying attention?”

Falier shrugged. “They don’t seem to need us.”

“And so we don’t need them? This information might be important.”

Falier let out a breath and listened. Karn was speaking again, wondering aloud if they would find more an’reik as his and Alísa’s clans continued west. 

“—We must be vigilant on our way to Azron, even if it makes our journey longer.”

Falier looked at Alísa. Azron was her and Karn’s home village. Karn felt confident he could persuade its influential slayer chief, Toronn. Alísa reached for her necklace, but she caught herself and straightened.

“I agree. I w—wonder, though, where Tsorr was headed? Lorin said he came from the north. Was he going from village to village with his message as we are? Or d—did he have another goal?”

A few eyes shot to Kallar, who crossed his arms. “What? You truly think a man powered by the Nameless would have given us anything?”

Alísa’s response was gentler than Falier expected. “No, I agree. We would have gained nothing from Tsorr. However, he may have slipped with someone else before t—t-t-today.”

Karn agreed and continued the conversation. Falier caught himself smiling. Alísa was doing so well! Looking at her and her father right now, it was easy to forget they were child and parent. They were just two chiefs, making decisions that would affect their clans and, hopefully, the whole western hill country. Yes, there were times Alísa remained quiet, but when she needed to speak, she did so without apology. She had come so far, and, Maker above, did he love her.

I only hope I can stand as tall when I talk to Karn and Hanah tonight. And that sent his mind twisting away again into words and phrasing. 

After a bit more discussion, the meeting finally ended. The clans would continue their course toward Azron, but ask about Tsorr and any other word of an’reik in the area. If they heard more, they would reevaluate.

Falier stood with Graydonn as the rest of the leadership broke for supper. His eyes landed on Karn and Hanah as they passed him. Not yet. Wait for after food, when their minds aren’t on an’reik and their stomachs are full.

“Kallar, wait.” Tenza’s voice drew Falier’s attention. “I would speak…”

Her words fell off as Kallar stomped away. He glared at Falier as he passed within arm’s reach.

“Why were you even here?”

Falier bristled, fists forming at his sides while Graydonn growled. Kallar, however, kept walking. Honestly, that was worse. If Kallar had railed against him, Falier could brush it off as just the hot-head’s temper. Just that simple, pointed question, though…

“Hey.” Alísa touched his arm. “What did he say to you?”

Falier shook his head and relaxed his hands. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter.” He pulled her into a side-hug. “Let’s get supper. I’m starved.”

“Falier…”

“I promise, it’s nothing. Just jibes that aren’t worth repeating.”

She leaned into him and rubbed a hand over his back. That was nice.

“Okay, but if you ever decide it is worth telling me, I’ll listen. I understand what it’s like to be mocked.”

He kissed her temple. “I know. Thank you.”

***

Supper was delicious, expertly seasoned as Selene worked alongside Karn’s people. Even Hwinn—Selene’s Illuminated hatchling—helped. The tawny adolescent, now four feet tall at the withers, stood behind a serving table and ensured everyone only took one piece of flatbread. Some of Karn’s wayfarers still tensed having a dragon so close, even a young one like Hwinn, but others were starting to grow accustomed. 

Falier and Alísa ate in a small group composed of both clans. On his shoulder sat Ska, the drek with sapphire mane, eyes, and wing-baubles who loved Falier’s drumming. He knew music would come soon, and he occasionally thumped his tail against Falier’s neck to remind him he was waiting. Falier offered pieces of meat in exchange for the drek’s patience. 

Sesína, too, sat with their group, interacting as she could with the slayers who relaxed their telepathic shields. Graydonn lay at the camp’s edge with most of the other dragons. A few riders stood with them instead of Karn’s people, even though Alísa had practically ordered them to integrate for the meal. Alísa didn’t seem keen on admonishing them for it, however. The dragons needed interaction beyond themselves, and it couldn’t hurt for Karn’s clan to see fellow slayers getting along with their former enemies.

This circle of people was relatively quiet as they ate. A couple of Karns-women engaged with Alísa about Rís, the adolescent drek preening his ruby mane on her shoulder. One rider commented on the high quality of the venison and received various agreements. Whenever Falier tried to start a conversation, it was met with less-than-enthusiastic responses from the rest. Perhaps it was the presence of a dragon and various fluttering dreki that kept the Karns-men reserved, but Falier couldn’t help but remember Kallar’s taunt. Did these men hold the same thoughts?

I do belong here.

In the back of his mind, Graydonn rumbled his agreement. The dragons accepted him, and Alísa’s slayers treated him as one of them. He just needed to convince Karn’s people.

Hopefully not Karn himself. 

Maybe tonight wasn’t ideal for this…

“I wouldn’t mind you waiting.”

Graydonn. Falier focused on their bond. “He won’t kill me. I think. Alísa’s ma likes me, at least.”

“I would prefer you be sure before putting yourself at his mercy.”

“Putting myself—I’m asking to marry his daughter, not challenging him to a duel.”

“His only daughter.”

Falier forced his eyebrow not to raise. Random facial expressions would not help his relating to Karn’s clanmates. “More time won’t change that.”

“I don’t understand why you need this. You and Alísa have already committed to each other—in dragon culture, you’re practically mates. All that remains is to declare it to your clan. Why humans insist on ceremony rather than bonds that are already there is beyond me.”

Fear lingered in that statement, the same Graydonn always felt when he saw Karn. Falier should have caught it sooner. 

“He won’t hurt me for asking.”

Graydonn’s growl rumbled in Falier’s head. “I know.”

“I’m still going to talk to him.”

“I know.”

Falier hesitated, then offered, “You can listen in if you need to.”

The dragon could have done that anyway—Falier wasn’t strong enough to block him—but permission would put Graydonn at ease.

Graydonn didn’t answer in words, but his fear eased a little before he backed away from the communication line. Falier sighed, then turned his attention back to his group of slayers. Beside him, Alísa answered a question about dragon body language, a joy-filled grin on her face. She was doing what she loved, bringing the races together, and it was beautiful. 

And oh, how he wanted that beauty, that strength, that deep caring, at his side forever.

Well, that settles it.

When it finally came time for music, Falier excused himself from the group. Songweaver Farren sat on a weathered wooden bench near the largest of the campfires, lute in hand. Across the way, Selene and Taz approached with their instruments, Taz limping along with his walking cane. He and Harenn had both taken terrible injuries in the last battle, but they were slowly recovering.

Besides her flute, Selene also carried Falier’s bodhrán. The thought of the goat-skin beneath his fingers, responding with the exact sounds he desired, set something right inside him. 

Ska, too, came alive at the sight of the drum, leaping off Falier’s shoulder and heading for Selene.

“Hey!” Falier laughed. “I’m still the one who’s going to play it!”

A few other dreki joined Ska in flocking to Selene and Taz, twirling around them with eager chitters. Karn’s people eyed the tiny dragon-shaped creatures with caution. Hopefully the dreki’s dancing would soon put the slayers at ease.

Arriving at the fire and taking his instrument from Selene, Falier settled next to Farren. A fiddle and a bodhrán sat at the songweaver’s feet, his drum smaller and less ornate than Falier’s. The thought of playing with a second drummer reminded Falier of Me’ran’s céilís.

By Farren’s suggestion, they began with a simple instrumental piece while their clanmates continued conversing. Then, as some of Alísa’s people rose to dance, Selene selected a lively jig she hoped would call more to follow. Behind Falier, the wing-beats of the dreki dancing around the fire added to his percussion like an unruly drum-partner who couldn’t quite keep a steady beat, or else like the storm rains he had learned to make music within long ago.

Slowly, more people rose to dance. The easterners moved through traditional céilí steps learned in Me’ran. As for Karn’s people, a few men twirled their partners and one couple tried to copy the céilí steps, but beyond that, they simply moved to the beat. Maybe one day they would allow him and Selene to teach them steps.

They ran through a fast reel that brought in a few more people, then Farren led them in a song Falier didn’t recognize. Karn’s clan all knew it, however, and they sang along with him. The repeated chorus was simple, allowing Falier to harmonize on the second round. He smiled, seeing others pick it up too. By the end, the slayers sang together, the dreki danced and chirped, and even the dragons tapped their talons and growled with the low notes. 

Happiness swelled in Falier’s chest, and with a flourishing beat, he con-vinced Farren to lead them through the chorus once more. Falier had found camaraderie in many forms—flying with the clan, or over shared meals with excellent conversation. But nothing brought unity quite like a shared song with voices lifted as one. It was enough to make him forget his insufficiencies and feelings of separation amid slayers. Ultimately, they were all the same.

With those thoughts bolstering him, he took the applause of the crowd and excused himself from the musicians. Karn and Hanah stood off to the side—a perfect opportunity to speak with them privately.

Selene grabbed his arm as he walked past, turning him toward her. “Good luck.”

Falier blinked, then quirked a smile. Of course she knew what he was doing. Selene always knew. It was an annoying part of being an older sibling, apparently.

“Thanks.”

Turning back to his mission, Falier headed for Karn and Hanah. Briek and his wife stood with them, the four quietly conversing as the next song began. Falier waited, wiping sweaty palms on his trousers. 

Be bold. Bold, but respectful. Respectful and firm. No, not firm—confident?

“Do you need Karn, or me, Falier?” Briek asked.

“Uh, Karn,” Falier said, voice faltering as Alísa’s parents turned to him. He cleared his throat. “And Hanah. But you can finish talking. I can wait.”

Briek nodded toward the dancers. “I promised my wife a dance. We’ll take our leave.”

With polite farewells, Briek and his wife departed, leaving Falier with Karn and Hanah. Hanah bore a ready smile, while Karn had—it wasn’t quite a frown.

“This celebration was an excellent idea,” Hanah said. “I’m glad you and your sister thought of it.”

“Thank you. I’m glad they’re enjoying it.” Falier drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Could I pull you two away to speak privately?”

Hanah leaned a bit into Karn, as if she were subtly trying to get him to answer. Karn raised a brow that said she wasn’t subtle at all, then nodded at Falier. 

“Come.”

Without another word, the chief led them from the gathering toward a spot clear of both tents and dragons. They stopped at the place where the next of the endless rolling hills began sloping up. The firelight was dim here, and the stars shone like a million tiny witnesses.

“All right,” Karn said, fixing chiefly eyes on Falier. “We’re alone.”

Falier caught himself before rubbing his neck. He glanced at Hanah, but in another not-so-subtle move, her eyes directed him back to Karn.

Falier cleared his throat. “Thank you, sir. I—”

He stopped. The speech—where did it go? How did it fall out of his head between dinner and here? He remembered the general direction of it, but the words he’d crafted—

Gone.

“Breathe,” Graydonn ordered in his mind. “You’re making me nervous.”

“You’re nervous?!”

Sucking in a breath, Falier forced his attention back to the most important man in Alísa’s life. He was doing this for her. 

“I think you both know that I love your daughter.” Don’t cringe at the terrible wording, just keep going. “I admire her strength and courage, I believe in her mission, and making her smile is the greatest feeling in the world. And, well, I know our relationship started—unconventionally. But I’d like to end it—no, not end, uh, continue. I’d like to continue it correctly, on a path with her family.”

Karn’s face betrayed nothing. No ‘yes’, no ‘no’, no indifference. And Hanah’s patient smile didn’t help him interpret at all.

“I want to ask her to marry me. And I’d like to ask for your blessing.”

Again, Karn remained expressionless. The silence pounded in Falier’s ears—he wanted to fill it. Was this a test? Could he stay quiet longer than the chief? 

As Karn scrutinized him, Falier tried to hold himself with the same confidence and fortitude Karn’s people possessed. And, though he hated to recognize it right now, as Kallar would. The man Karn had initially chosen for his daughter. 

Releasing his breath, Karn seemed to shrink a bit. “Your request does not surprise me. I have dreaded it since the day I walked in Alísa’s memories and saw how quickly she fell in love with you.”

Falier swallowed. ‘Dread’ wasn’t a promising word.

“It was always my intention she marry a warrior,” Karn continued. “One who could shield a woman with dragon empathy from humans who despise her and dragons who desire her.”

Karn stepped past Falier, toward the gathering of clans. Falier looked from him to Hanah in question. Hanah merely nodded his attention back to Karn.

“Such threats proved far different than I imagined,” Karn said, watching the dancers. “But they still exist. My desire will always be for her safety. Yet” —he glanced at Falier, eyes softer now— “safety is not all she needs, is it?”

Silence stretched until Falier realized he was expected to answer. Swallowing his nerves, he stepped up to Karn’s side.

“No, sir. Her mission, her dream, isn’t safe. I would protect her as best I can, but we’ve already faced moments that required sacrifice and I—I had to let her go, because I believe in her. That’s something I can give her without reservation. I will encourage her, champion her cause, and strengthen her when she falls. I’ll do that the rest of my life, if she’ll have me.”

Karn hummed, then looked behind them. “And what do you say?”

“You know what I say.” Hanah’s eyes twinkled as she considered Falier. “I’m honestly surprised you waited this long to speak with us.”

Falier rubbed his neck before he could stop himself. “This is the first time I’ve seen you when we weren’t strategizing peace talks or otherwise busy.”

Hanah looked at Karn expectantly. After a moment, the chief exhaled.

“I’ve seen you care for Alísa in sun and shadow. Even watching through her memories and all their rose-colored tints, I know your love for her is true, as is hers for you.” He came forward and clapped a heavy hand on Falier’s shoulder. “Very well. If Alísa agrees, you have our blessing.”

A grin spread across Falier’s face, overtaking the wince at the weight of Karn’s clap. “Thank you, sir. Hanah.” 

Just standing felt awkward—he needed to do something. Return Karn’s gesture? Hugging him seemed out of the question. 

Thankfully, Hanah was already on her way and Karn moved. She gave his arms a quick squeeze.

“I’d wish you luck, but I don’t think you need it.” She stepped back. “When will you ask her, and how?”

“Soon. I’ve been thinking about it, but not in detail. I wanted to have this conversation first.”

Hanah nodded her approval. Behind her, Karn turned his attention to the gathered clans. He held a vigilance honed by years on the battlefield, taking in everything with unblinking eyes. Hanah clasped her hands in front of her in a dignified waiting pose as she watched her husband. She apparently knew Karn wasn’t finished. The silence stretched a long while before he finally spoke.

“Your road will not be easy, young slayer.” His voice was quiet, making Falier focus past the music and chatter. “If Alísa agrees to marry you, you will take up a leadership role beyond what you currently hold. You will have authority over warriors, but they will not easily give their respect to a holder, even if he holds the title of tiern.”

‘Tiern.’ Falier glanced at Hanah. The title was like her title of lady of the clan. He returned to Karn. 

“I have earned their respect.”

“From Alísa’s clan, perhaps,” Karn said. “But what of others? If you had spoken to Lorin today instead of me, would he have heard you? Will my people hear you?”

Falier swallowed. Back in Me’ran, when Briek and his men were learning to ride dragons, his connection to Graydonn had earned their respect. Every other slayer clan, however—Segenn’s, Tella’s, and now Karn’s—tended to dismiss him.

Karn continued. “In hiding your true nature, your family made your journey harder.” With a start, Falier made to defend his parents, but Karn stopped him with a hand. “I don’t say this to shame them. Maker knows I held Alísa back to protect her. And your parents’ choice formed you into who my Lísa needs. Nevertheless, you have far to go to catch up to your slayer brothers.”

Falier forced his shoulders to relax. “What do you suggest I do?”

Finally, Karn looked at him, his expression gentler than before. “As I said, your family’s actions made you who you need to be. Others would have fought me, yet you answer with humility. That will serve you well, for you will be learning basics where your peers carry years of experience. Devote yourself to three things: the sword, multitasking between physical and psychic planes, and the confidence to speak in gatherings.”

The last point hit harder than it would have yesterday. “Even if my opinions have already been voiced, or everyone else holds more experience than me?”

Karn scrutinized him. “My Lísa does not love you because you are like everyone else. Learn your strengths, form your opinions, and do not let another speak them for you. A leader may come in many forms, but none will follow someone they do not know.”

“I concur,” Hanah said, coming up on Karn’s other side. “As tiern, there will be times to remain silent in deference to your chief, but your people must also know you are not merely following her submissively. You must actively support her in your own words and with your own ideas if they are to trust you as they do her.”

Karn offered his arm to her, which she took as he continued. “It is a hard road to walk, for you are not only marrying Alísa, but the clan itself. Can you accept the choices and sacrifices which accompany that?”

The sword. Psychic mastery. Confidence. Essentially, become a slayer. That was what Falier had been working toward since the day he realized he would leave Me’ran. He had trained minimally in sword-play, and Graydonn and Alísa both had taught him much of telepathy. But Karn was right—he had a long way to go. And if he was going to stand beside Alísa as she called the slayer clans to heel, he needed to be someone they could respect.

Falier met Karn’s eyes. “I can.”

The corner of Karn’s lips lifted, just slightly. “Good man. I know Alísa’s clan has a weapons trainer, but I recommend you also work with my brother, L’non. There is none better with the sword.” 

Graydonn grumbled in the back of Falier’s mind. “I hate it when you fight with swords.”

“It will just be training swords, though, made of wood or else dulled metal blades.”

“You fight psychically. I’m supposed to do the physical fighting.”

“But if it makes slayers respect me more…”

Graydonn left out a huff of steam that Falier could feel. “Sword-prowess shouldn’t matter when it comes to respect.”

“And yet it does.” Falier said it as firmly as he could. This wasn’t the first time Graydonn had objected to his weapons training. Anxiety always accompanied it, like Graydonn feared he would be harmed. Touching, but the lack of confidence it displayed also hurt.

“Thank you,” Falier said, refocusing on Karn. “I would like that.”

“Then I will speak to L’non in the morning. Until then” —Karn nodded toward the celebration— “we should get back to our peoples.”

Falier agreed, and as he walked alongside Alísa’s parents, one thought dominated his mind—he had a new calling now, one he should have been about all along. 

Tonight was his last night as a holder.

4 | Apprentice

Dragons. So many flaming dragons.

Power pounded in Kallar’s skull as he stalked through camp, held captive by his own telepathy. The afternoon sun lit his way, yet his vision blurred every few throbs, a weakness only just more tolerable than the dragon emotions he shielded against. 

It wasn’t right. Home should be a sanctuary, a place he could let his guard down. Especially since the pounding headache aggravated everything else, including his still-healing shield arm. Instead, Alísa brought her flaming dragon lieutenants to meetings he was required to attend. And, rather than leave when the conference ended, they just stood there visiting.

The situation made his blood boil. He never asked to be a Dragon Singer. Never asked for this accursed connection to the enemy. Never asked for his mission to change from protecting humanity into also protecting monsters. But Karn, his chief and master, had bought into Alísa’s so-called calling, and so the clan followed as well.

Kallar gritted his teeth and kept walking. I should have deserted with Tern.

But he had said no when Tern entered his tent that night—the night Alísa won peace between Karn, Tella, and the dragons lurking in the Serpent’s Fangs. Kallar was no traitor. Even two days later, when Karn had given permission for clanmates who disagreed with the alliance to leave without repercussions, Kallar stayed. He didn’t run when things got hard—he powered through. 

And look where that’s gotten me. 

Telepathy battered the inside of Kallar’s head, begging him to release it. Though he used a similar shield in battle, there he would relieve the pressure with mind-spears. Holding everything in was excruciating. But he would not relax, not with dragons nearby.

“Kallar.”

No. No no no, he would not face that voice. Yet another of Alísa’s unnecessary visitors, this one human, but perhaps even more unwelcome. 

Tenza of Me’ran. Technically, his grandmother. Practically, Alísa’s ally. 

Truthfully, his mother’s betrayer.

She thinks she can just show up and act like none of it happened? Like she and her husband had supported Ma in her pain or allowed her a shred of control over her own life?!

He and R’lann wouldn’t be alive if Tenza had gotten her way. Allara would still be in Me’ran, kept from fighting the dragons, from her lover, from ever passing on her curse.

Perhaps that last part would have been a blessing. Had R’lann inherited the power, too? Was it sitting dormant inside him back in L’rang, waiting for him to discover that monsters had souls so it could punish him for the knowledge too?

Kallar pressed past tent after sun-bleached tent, weaving out of sight of Tenza before ducking into his own. As soon as the flap closed and the glaring sunlight filtered yellow through the leather walls, he relaxed his shield. He fought not to gasp in a breath of relief, lest she hear. He held as she stopped beside his tent. As she called his name again. As her footsteps faded and he was finally alone.

Rounding his trunk, Kallar yanked the buckle of his sword-belt and threw the weapon onto his unmade bed. What was she even doing here? What Eldra saw fit to sport with him by bringing her and Alísa together so she could torment him?

He lowered to the dusty deerskin mat. The pounding in his head had nearly subsided, and the throbbing in his arm was gone. He flexed his fingers, feeling his muscles press against the splint and wrappings. The healer said he could start working strength back into it within the week. Until then, it was useless.

Just like him. 

A slayer forbidden from slaying.

An apprentice who no longer believed in his master’s purpose.

Once betrothed, now cast aside.

The last one didn’t sting so much anymore. He and Alísa had never gotten along—it would have been a miserable marriage. Still, fire filled his veins every time he saw that damned holder…

“Kallar?”

He fixed his eyes on the tent flap. That wasn’t Tenza. 

“What?”

Songweaver Farren took on an authoritative air. “I need to speak with you.” 

Kallar growled to himself. “Fine.”

Sunlight pierced the shadows as Farren entered. The commanding manner lived solely in his voice. His demeanor was kind and his eyes soft. Pitying. 

Kallar huffed. “What do you want?”

Farren lowered to the ground cross-legged, his movement smooth as he kept those eyes on Kallar. This conversation would be incredibly irritating if that didn’t let up.

“To check on you.” Farren scanned him up and down. “You’re not yourself. Haven’t been for a month now. I had hoped to leave you alone as you would desire, but—”

Farren gestured to Kallar, as though that conveyed everything.

“You’re right.” Kallar made eye-contact. “I do want to be left alone.”

“Show me you can handle that, and I’ll go.”

Kallar scoffed. “What is it you want to see? You want me to be happy? To embrace this like centuries of bloodshed never happened? Like I haven’t given up everything to keep humanity safe from those monsters?”

“We’ve all sacrificed much.” 

I’ve sacrificed more.

But Farren would refute that, and the problem wasn’t what Kallar had given up—he had done it gladly. “And now we’re supposed to get all friendly? Sing a little song together and forget what happened? Is that what you think, Songweaver?”

Farren shook his head. “I think you don’t care what I think. So we shall proceed with facts. Fact one” —he began counting on his fingers— “your tent is a mess.”

Kallar averted his gaze, brushing the shorn side of his hair. “And?”

“And after our planning sessions for that blasted song we’re now cleaning up after, I know how you keep it. Everything in order, easy to grab at a moment’s notice. Yet now, with dragons roaming about our camp, your trunk is open in the middle of your space, suggesting you merely threw it inside. And you’ve just tossed your weapon on the furs rather than placing it at your side where it belongs.”

Farren indicated the next finger. “Fact two—you are no stranger to pain, so the problem isn’t your arm or the headaches you’ve been getting. Don’t give me that look. You haven’t hidden them well.” 

Kallar’s arm throbbed, alerting him to the tension in his body. He kept it, not wanting Farren to see he was hitting the right nerves.

“Fact three” —this time, curiosity wafted through the astral plane— “you did not desert. You follow your master, even though you disagree with him.”

Farren regarded him, awaiting an explanation. Kallar didn’t have one.

“So? Tell me your grand conclusion, Songweaver. Where do these oh-so-interesting facts lead you?”

The pitying eyes again. “You are floundering, Kallar. The truth challenges your life’s foundation, and you don’t know how to move forward. You cling to what you’ve lost so tightly that you cannot see what might be gained. Is it not strength to admit when you err, pick up the pieces, and continue on?”

Kallar stood. “We’re done here.”

“Isn’t that what you did when your arm burned? Or again when it was broken?”

Kallar stormed out. He could have insisted Farren leave instead, but he had no patience left for talk. He needed to move, to fight, to punch something!

Movement caught his eye. L’non, training the boys in swordplay.

Including that flaming holder boy.

Falier had been working with L’non every time Alísa visited camp. As if he could ever amount to anything. He managed to make the minimal leather armor appear clunky—he hadn’t been born in it like everyone else here. The holder moved through a single strike over and over, moving in tandem with the clan’s young teens. The weight of the wooden waster sword was obviously getting to the holder, after what could only have been ten minutes of work after the meeting.

Pathetic.

Kallar stalked forward, stopping next to the chest full of more wasters. A foreign anxiety filled him and he growled, rebuilding his mental shield to block out Graydonn. Hellflames! He hated that he knew the dragon’s name.

Pulse pounding, Kallar reached for a waster of his own. “Let’s see how long you last with an actual opponent—”

“No.” 

A hand gripped Kallar’s shoulder, causing him to whirl around on whoever—

Karn stood there, his expression quiet. Shame weighed Kallar’s heart, a bucket of cold water on his anger. What was he thinking, about to challenge essentially a child to a duel? Then to be caught by Karn himself…

Karn looked him over, surely seeing his shame. Stooping, the chief pulled two wasters. He reached one out to Kallar.

“You’ll fight me instead.”

Kallar looked at the wooden sword, unmoving until Karn pushed it into his chest. He took the weapon and raised an eyebrow. Karn met his gaze, then inclined his head toward the outskirts of camp.

“Come.”

Gripping the waster, Kallar followed. Was this a rebuke for what he nearly did? Mere redirection? Or something else? Karn gave no indication as he crossed camp. They passed all the living tents, the kitchen tent bustling with women, and a small gathering of people around Alísa and Ses—the black dragon. Tenza was there too, the sight of her reigniting Kallar’s anger. Good. That would help as he sparred.

Karn didn’t stop until they stood a decent distance from camp. No spectators here.

“Set yourself,” Karn said as he picked his spot and got into his own ready stance. He held his waster in a two-handed grip, tip up and toward Kallar. His expression was still unreadable.

Kallar picked a one-handed grip, his still-splinted arm not allowing for more. Despite preferring two hands, he had plenty of practice with one. He needed it to hold a shield when fighting dragons.

But that didn’t matter anymore, did it? No more slaying. Everything—everything—Kallar had worked for, everything that made him who he was, was gone.

And Karn had allowed it all.

Teeth gritted, Kallar moved. He skipped the circling and testing—they needed no such formality anymore. He simply advanced and struck.

Karn deflected easily, taking controlled steps backward as Kallar attacked. Each meeting of weapons was a sharp crack in the air, like rams butting heads. Kallar preferred the ringing of metal blades, how they sang with the spirit of true battle even when dulled for sparring. Karn met every blow with a calm assurance that made Kallar push harder.

“Did you only bring me here to toy with me?” Slash. Thrust. “To make me expend energy so I can’t do it elsewhere?”

Karn blocked and pressed his weapon against Kallar’s. “Is it working?”

“It was a dumb mistake. Won’t happen again.” Kallar shoved him off and dropped the waster. “If that’s all you want, we’re done here.”

Kallar turned back toward camp and began walking. As he did, however, he heard Karn’s footfalls behind him—fast and light.

Left side.

Kallar dodged right as Karn’s weapon swiped through the space he had just occupied.

“What the—”

Karn smiled. “When did I ever teach you to turn your back on an opponent?”

“I said we’re done.”

Kallar pressed on toward camp, but Karn blocked his path after only a few steps, sword raised. 

“You said we were finished if I merely challenged you to make you leave Falier alone. Your assumption is incorrect, apprentice. Pick up your weapon” —he lunged, causing Kallar to stumble back— “or face the consequences.”

Karn’s goading grin unlocked memories of better times. Kallar pushed them aside. A part of him still wanted to refuse, to not give Karn what he sought. The rest of him…

Kallar bolted for his discarded waster. Karn gave chase, his heavier footfalls a warning as Kallar approached the weapon. If he stooped to grab it, Karn would knock him down and claim the match. Instead, Kallar dove for the waster, snatching it with the hand of his bad arm and using his good arm to tuck and roll. A clumsy execution, but the wooden weapon wouldn’t punish him for it. Kallar’s roll brought him to one knee just in time to block Karn’s strike. Bracing with his good arm, he ensured only a slight jolt reached his injured one.

Karn didn’t press, hesitating as he noticed Kallar’s splint. That was an opening. With a shout, Kallar sprang to his feet in a lunge Karn parried. Kallar changed his grip and attacked. This time, Karn fought back. 

Thrust. Parry. Block. 

“I’ve missed this,” Karn said between blows. “I haven’t sparred in Maker knows how long.”

Kallar didn’t respond. Talking took focus from the fight. And he needed to fight!

Lunge. Duck. Swipe.

“There hasn’t been time,” Karn continued. “Sometimes I feel the world has been upended and I’m left trying to walk upside down.”

Kallar leapt at Karn, pressing swords as best he could with only one hand. Karn tried to hook his leg and send him to the ground, but Kallar leapt back. Sweat forming, he surged forward again.

Slash. Block. Thrust.

“I still start when I see one of her dragons out of the corner of my eye. My battle instinct flares.” 

Kallar ducked a swipe and rolled to get behind Karn. He swung but couldn’t catch Karn before he blocked. The wooden crack sent his bad arm throbbing.

“I don’t know how her riders have gotten past that. Perhaps it’s because they went through it together.” Karn gave a pointed look, confirming the inkling building in Kallar’s mind. Karn wasn’t talking about himself.

Kallar slashed toward Karn’s chest and the chief blocked and slid his blade up to catch Kallar’s weapon against his cross guard. Kallar glared as Karn pressed swords with him.

“I’m fine,” Kallar said through clenched teeth.

Karn raised a skeptical brow. “Glad to hear it, because a lot of us aren’t. Perhaps they would all be ‘fine’ if I didn’t hide my own struggles. Perhaps I left them feeling like they were alone in theirs.”

Kallar shoved him back. “Perhaps they don’t want you or nosy songweavers butting in.”

“Perhaps it’s my responsibility. I took them from their homes and families. I led them into…” Karn faltered, the point of his sword lowering. “Into a lie. And now we all must wrestle with the truth.”

Anger pulsed through Kallar’s veins. He tightened his grip and swung. Don’t you give up!

Startled, Karn blocked, parried, and returned the attack. He finally stopped talking and just moved. It was like he had kept an untapped reserve of energy, adding speed to his skill. Kallar could only beat Karn four times out of ten, but anyone could beat a more skilled foe. All it took was to be ready the very moment one’s opponent made a mistake.

Still, Kallar fought to keep up. Strike. Parry. Lunge. Block. Dodge. Swipe—

Karn stepped back rather than blocking the attack, then got close as Kallar sloppily twisted with the momentum of his swing. He tried to hit Karn with the pommel of his waster, but Karn had already hooked his leg. With a pull, he sent Kallar to the ground. The point of Karn’s weapon was at Kallar’s throat a second later.

“Well fought,” Karn said. His brow glistened with sweat and his breaths were heavy. Even with a loss, Kallar couldn’t be too upset when Karn breathed harder than he did.

“Glad you finally decided to start fighting.” Kallar pushed away the waster at his neck and stood. “Was your plan just to wear me down with all that half-assed sword-waving first, or to lull me to sleep with talk?”

Karn grunted a laugh. “Neither.”

They returned to camp in silence. The breeze cooled Kallar’s neck, arms, and the shorn side of his head. The hair there was over an inch long now. He’d have to get someone to cut it down again.

Kallar dropped his waster into the chest of training weapons, not allowing himself to glance at the holder boy continuing to practice. Just thinking of him threatened to kill the scrap of a good mood Kallar had found. As he turned back toward the tents, the sight of Alísa, Trísse, and their bonded dragons off to the side killed it anyway. He had never really liked Trísse, but he had always known her to be sensible. How had a dragon gotten its claws into her mind?

Karn came alongside him, walking between Kallar and the dragons. He kept his eyes ahead as he spoke quietly.

“What would you suggest I do for those of us who aren’t ‘fine?’”

Kallar raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re the chief. If you don’t know your men, who can?”

Karn gave Kallar a pointed look. “All right. Tell me truly, if I offered the chance to leave again, would you stay?”

“Would you want me to?” Kallar shot back.

Karn’s brow creased. That drew blood. “You think I wouldn’t?”

“You have Alísa back. Strong, confident, and perfect in your eyes. You have a new son-to-be, and we aren’t even fighting dragons anymore.” Heart pulsing in his head, Kallar grabbed the flap at the entry to his tent. “I’m irrelevant.”

Kallar made to duck inside, but Karn seized his shoulder and pulled him back around. The chief’s eyes narrowed. 

“It was not Alísa who stopped the an’reik in Bezin. My men do not look to Falier in times of uncertainty, and though we no longer hunt dragons, I am confident we are not done fighting. If you wish to leave, I give you that right, but don’t you dare tell me that you are irrelevant!”

Karn paused, his grip relaxing from its near-bruising weight. His voice lowered. “Or that I don’t want you here. Because Maker knows I do.”

Stunned, Kallar met Karn’s eyes and forced a breath. 

“All right, then. I’ll stay.”

The lines on Karn’s face disappeared, smoothed by relief. “I’m glad to hear it. And, if you need to talk—”

“I’m fine.” It sounded false even to Kallar’s ears.

Karn simply nodded and let go of Kallar’s shoulder. The chief’s eyes flitted behind him and a sad smile formed.

“Tidy your space, son.”

With that, Karn turned back toward the field. Back toward Alísa and her little black dragon. Kallar shoved his way inside, half expecting Farren to still be there. But the songweaver was gone and Kallar was alone. He stared at the floor, then grabbed his trunk and heaved, shoving it into its spot by the door.

5 | Bonds

The sun always seemed warmer when flying, even with the air rushing around him. It lighted on Falier’s skin and held him like an embrace, welcoming a creature made for the ground but dreaming of the sky.

“Hwinn, Dezra, form up behind Komi,” Alísa ordered. Underneath her, Sesína banked to better watch the students. “You’ll practice wing-dragon positions while your riders train psychically.”

The adolescents did as commanded, each zipping toward the much larger brown dragoness. They were three months old now, the age Sesína was when she fought her first battle. Dezra proved the hardest to spot with her light-blue scales. She moved gracefully, twisting and banking while Rassím leaned into her movements. 

Then there was Selene and Hwinn. What a pair. All Falier’s life, his sister had been a steady river—strong, gentle, and unexpectedly powerful. Who could have guessed that her Illuminated dragon would be so flighty and energetic? Their first flight resulted in Selene taking an unexpected dip in the lake they practiced over. That instance scared Hwinn straight, however, and he hadn’t thrown her since.

Once the youngest dragons found their positions behind Komi, Alísa instructed her to lead them through maneuvers. Then she turned her attention to the riders.

“Today, we’ll continue our work on mind-sharing. Selene, since you’ve already achieved this, I want you to focus on channeling Hwinn’s power to enhance your empathy. If it works, pull away from the others so they aren’t caught in the emotion you’re pressing. The rest of you, start your push-and-pulls and ease toward a mind-share.”

Falier closed his eyes and began the familiar pattern. His psychic power was like a forest creek, while Graydonn’s was like the rushing Nissen river. He had accessed it quickly in many a battle, but today he went slowly, focusing on the basics as L’non and Darrin both had him doing in swordplay. Breathing deeply, he widened his connection to Graydonn and let the dragon’s power pour through. He marveled at just how much Graydonn’s mind held. How did he contain it all?

As Falier took in Graydonn’s power, it quickly became too much. Before Falier accepted the bond, he had to release the power at this point, sending a barely controlled bolt of psychic energy into the sky. Now that their bond was sure, however, Falier instead began pressing telepathy back toward Graydonn. Here the water analogies didn’t quite work, as Graydonn’s energy continued pouring in while Falier also allowed it to flow out. Equilibrium. Push-and-pull. 

Eyes still closed, Falier checked the astral plane, where the world was dark except for the minds of living beings. Before him, Graydonn’s head and neck were glowing outlines the same amber as his eyes. Further out, the rest of the dragons and riders were similarly outlined. And between his fellow trainees lived shining lines of psychic connection. Some were merely telepathic communication, but each bonded pair also had a bright line that was the bond itself. The only partners in the sky today without a bond were Taz and Harenn. They wouldn’t join this exercise, instead working to rebuild their strength after weeks of recovery.

Falier brought his attention back. “You ready to try again?”

Graydonn rumbled an affirmative, straightening into a forward glide. They had gotten so close to a mind-share last time—surely today they would succeed!

Breathing deeply, Falier reached across the mind-kin bond. Graydonn’s emotions were full here—curiosity, the joy of flight, and an undercurrent of worry flowed around Falier’s consciousness.

“You all right? You seem anxious.”

The dragon blew out steam and relaxed his mind. “Not about this. Keep going.”

“If you’re sure.”

In response, Graydonn’s end of the bond opened wider. Falier continued reaching out, remembering Alísa’s instructions. “Try to feel the wind rushing over Graydonn’s scales and the leather of his wings.”

Falier pressed into Graydonn’s joy of flight, following its path further down into Graydonn’s mind. He tried to find the sensations, but despite his ability to follow Graydonn’s emotions, Falier once again found an unyielding barrier. It felt different from last time, though. Here, Falier discovered a new emotion from Graydonn—sorrow. It mingled with the undercurrent of anxiety, inseparable.

Distantly, Graydonn also hit a barrier. When the dragon pressed, Falier realized the emotions swimming at the bottom of his own mind. Fear and striving.

With an unspoken agreement, they each pulled back into themselves.

Falier shook his head, his brain buzzing. “Not today, then.”

Graydonn rumbled a gentle growl. “Not today. I’m sorry.”

Eyes still closed, Falier observed Selene and Hwinn. The two of them glowed in a mixture of Selene’s brown and Hwinn’s sapphire—a new, unique color. Rassím and Dezra also seemed to be close, their colors nearer to matching than their last few attempts.

Falier opened his eyes. “Maybe it’s because we’re mind-kin and not Illuminated. Our bonds work differently.”

“This is achievable by mind-kin,” Graydonn insisted. He looked at Komi and Trísse, who also had not joined, and his amber eyes dimmed. “But perhaps the difference makes it harder.”

They continued flying, following Sesína’s orders for flight-patterns. Selene and Hwinn flew alone, practicing with empathy like Alísa had told them. Falier checked once and saw an empathic cloud that surpassed any Selene had created prior. Falier smiled. The cloud was bright blue, the color of joy. 

After only half an hour of training, Alísa called the end—she had meetings to attend to at the cave. She was always running to and from meetings nowadays. The trappings of being chief.

Komi pulled up alongside Graydonn as the dragons aimed for the mountain. Trísse stretched her arms over her head, then reached one across her chest and held it there, looking down at Taz and Rassím. 

“Anyone up for some sparring?”

Komi looked back at her. “You’re going from one training straight into another?”

Trísse switched arms. “There’s a big difference between training the mind and training the body. Besides, I’m getting antsy just sitting on your back. I need to do something.”

Falier wasn’t sure he agreed. Training his mind felt just as strenuous as his body most days. But then, Trísse’s lifelong training had encompassed both mind and body. Something Falier had missed out on as a holder. 

Karn is right, I have a lot to catch up on.

Graydonn grumbled beneath him, but said nothing. Probably more objections to Falier using a sword. 

“I could do with some sparring,” Rassím said.

“Same here,” Taz agreed. “Just, you know, don’t kill me. I’m practically an invalid.”

Falier could feel Selene roll her eyes. “Oh please, you barely need your cane anymore. Trísse, you have my full permission to push him.”

Taz sent mock hurt through the psychic connection. “I thought you were on my side!”

“I am,” Selene said. “I need you back in shape so I don’t have to worry about you fighting.”

Taz huffed. “You should worry about me if Trísse is my sparring partner.”

“You could be mine,” Falier suggested. “I’m not ready to spar with Trísse or Rassím yet, but an invalid…”

Taz grinned up at him. “And if the invalid defeats you? What’ll you give me?”

“Bragging rights for life.”

“Nah, I’d take that anyway. How about you take my next armor-laundering duty?”

Falier fake-gagged as though smelling the sweaty leather armor. “Fine, if you reciprocate.”

“Deal!”

Graydonn, Komi, and Harenn pulled into a circling pattern as Sesína, Hwinn, and Dezra approached the main entrance. Though it and its landing platform were large, only two adult dragons could land simultaneously. When it was Graydonn’s turn, he landed with barely a scrape of talons. He quickly shuffled clear for Harenn and Komi, following the others down a ramp of rock to the floor. 

The main cave was enormous—big enough to fit perhaps six houses lengthwise and five along its width. It also reached up, up, up into the mountain, its walls pocked with alcoves and tunnels leading to other caves. Unfortunately, there were few humans could access without draconic help. While a dragon clan would have used the spacious cave for meetings and community, the slayers needed it to live. Though Alísa wanted to find ways to give them space and reclaim the main cave for its proper use, her energy was focused on her missions of peace.

Falier walked beside Graydonn along the perimeter of the living tents, careful not to trip on ropes pounded into cracks in the floor or tied to stalagmites to keep the canvas upright. Further down, sounds of wood cracking against wood already echoed from the training cave. Falier, Graydonn, and the others followed the sounds into a tunnel winding down to it. Alísa and Selene didn’t follow, Alísa hurrying off toward Koriana while Selene kissed Taz on the cheek and then went to help prepare supper. Even though she trained with Hwinn, Selene seemed perfectly at ease being a holder rather than a slayer.

Falier kept a hand on Graydonn’s wither as the tunnel darkened, trusting the dragon’s eyesight. Normally, a torch sat outside, but those already inside had taken it. Falier would have ask Briek about buying another with the resources from Rorenth’s horde.

Finally, firelight appeared and they emerged into a new cave, smaller and squatter than the main one. Three chests full of weapons and leather practice armor sat near the tunnel, which Trísse, Rassím, and Taz all approached. Further in, Darrin, a man with pale skin and shaggy brown hair, watched the clan’s two young teenage boys as they sparred with wooden wasters. 

“Hold,” Darrin said. The boys obeyed, separating and panting. Darrin approached Falier and the others. He had been the primary trainer in Briek’s former wayfaring clan and was skilled with many weapons. He typically rode Saynan, their teaching ways complimenting each other well.

Darrin looked straight at Falier as he spoke. “I’m afraid I’ll be working with the boys for another hour, so you’ll have to wait before I can facilitate your matches.”

Falier drummed his fingers on his thigh. An hour was an awfully long wait. “Can’t I switch in?”

Darrin shook his head. “I’m teaching them something you’re not ready for. Taz, you’ll need to wait, too. You’re likely to hurt yourself without supervision. Trísse and Rassím, you may spar on the opposite side of the cave as the boys.”

Taz made to protest, but then his eyes flicked to Falier and he stopped. “Guess we can spar after, then.”

“All right,” Falier said. “I can still learn by watching in the meantime.”

A light smirk played at Darrin’s lips. “Oh, you won’t be watching.”

Falier slumped, realizing what was coming. Darrin pointed to two wooden buckets beside the larger barrel of water.

“Strength training. Fill the barrel to the brim. It’s only half-empty, so I’m giving you a thousand heartbeats. Take longer and I’ll have more tasks for you before you can spar. Taz, make yourself useful and count for me. I’ll know if you cheat. Go.”

Pulling in a breath, Falier snatched up the buckets and jogged to the tunnel. Without Graydonn, he had to move slowly until he reached the main cave. He headed for the back, where a stream flowed with cold, fresh water. No one knew whether it was melted ice that had slowly found its way here or a spring bubbling up from underground. All they knew, thanks to the dragons’ excellent senses of smell and taste, was the water was pure and safe.

As Falier pressed on, he caught relief pulsing from Graydonn. Annoyed, Falier pushed it away. He needed to learn the sword. Even if he only fought as a dragon rider, other riders used swords to slash at enemy dragons who came too close. And if he was going to earn the respect of other slayer clans, he needed to become someone they couldn’t push around without consequences.

Thinking to shave some time off his run, Falier slowed a bit to weave between tents. This path was more direct, but as he stopped to avoid running into a woman chasing her child, then a man charging out of his tent, Falier wondered at the wisdom of his choice. Surely there were ways to improve this. People needed space, not tents crammed together. Also, the kitchen should be closer to the water source, not beyond the living spaces. 

Falier slid to a stop at the stream and dunked his buckets in. Dreki currently occupied this cooler section of the cave, fluttering around a tunnel about five feet off the ground. One-by-one, they phased into the right base of the tunnel and emerged on the left. Falier was just in time to witness the stone crack, creating the beginnings of a step. Apparently, phasing through an object enough times weakened its structure, so with concerted effort, dreki could carve into stone. The process was slow, but the dreki seemed eager to help give humans access to the lower caves and tunnels. They also enjoyed sowing flowers and vines into the walls, beautifying certain sections with impossible plant-life kept alive by some power none but the dreki understood.

Falier returned his focus to his task. Now came the hard part. He pulled the buckets back out, each filled to the brim. If he ran, they would splash, requiring more trips. If he didn’t make it on time, Darrin would probably have him fill the kitchen barrels next. Or haul stones from one end of the sparring cave to the other.

Falier skirted the tents this time, walking as quickly as he could. He would use Taz’s count to figure out if he should try running. It would take at least three trips, maybe four.

On his third trip back, heart pounding with exertion, he spotted Alísa conversing with Briek and Koriana. Alísa caught sight of him and waved. He could only return her smile and keep going. Much as he knew he needed strength and sword training, Falier couldn’t help but be jealous. He should be like Briek, a strong warrior always at Alísa’s side, sharing in decisions and helping her carry them out. 

I need to talk to her about Karn’s suggestion that I take part in leadership meetings. He passed back into the tunnel. Once we’re engaged. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Returning to the barrel, Falier dumped the last of the water, a minimal amount splashing over as it reached the brim.

“Nine-hundred forty-six,” Taz announced. He raised a hand for a high-five, which Falier could barely meet. His biceps ached and his legs wanted to give out. 

“Excellent,” Darrin said, pausing the boys. “Grab your leathers, Falier and Taz. It’s your turn.”

Falier stared at him. “But you said you weren’t available for an hour. It’s only been a quarter of that!”

“Come, Falier, you must learn not to take everything your trainer says at face-value. There will be many battles where your hope for rest is cruelly snatched away. Now let’s move!” He clapped his hands for emphasis. 

Falier let out a long, tired breath, then fetched his armor. Behind him, Graydonn growled.

“That’s not right. You barely know how to hold the weapon and he expects you to fight in this condition?”

Falier drew himself up. “I can do it, and I will.” He grabbed a leather greave and began strapping it on. “I am a slayer.”

6 | Crakil’s Clan

Alísa shivered as Sesína ascended the mountain on the winds. Ahead, the scouts of another clan led them toward their cave, where Alísa would make her case to an alpha who had once tried to hold her captive. To her left flew Koriana, the dragoness level with Sesína rather than in her typical spot behind her. 

“Crakil will try to intimidate you,” Koriana cautioned. “He will not have forgotten your last meeting.”

Sesína’s eyes brightened. “But this time, you’ll have far more support.”

Alísa looked back at her entourage—six dragons and their riders, plus a few dreki. Definitely a better situation than when she escaped with Koriana and Graydonn all those months ago.

One of the highest peaks in Karn’s wayfaring territory, Crakil’s mountain held caves made of both stone and ice. Here at the beginning of autumn, the ice had diminished drastically, leaving some caves uninhabitable. Graydonn spoke with melancholy of the summer months when he and his family would move into the main cave. Living with other hatchlings and adolescents was nice, but proximity to the alphas often brought his parents strife. Apparently, Graydonn’s father D’lann had a ‘nasty habit’ of teaching hatchlings that humans were neither vermin nor all evil, which the former alpha F’renn did not appreciate. That didn’t bode well for this meeting. Neither did the fact that F’renn died at Rorenth’s talons while chasing down Alísa.

“Who knows,” Sesína said, “maybe F’renn was awful and they’ll all be grateful that your actions put Crakil in charge.”

Alísa shuddered, remembering Crakil’s attempt to compel her to jump off Koriana’s back and into his talons. “I somehow doubt that.” 

Sesína’s mood dampened as she shared Alísa’s memory. “Yeah. I guess he’s not so great either. Do you think he’ll recognize me?”

A mixture of hope and anxiety swirled in Sesína. Alísa considered her reply, trying to decide what would help Sesína more in her confusion.

“He might figure it out, but you were only an egg then.”

Sesína snorted. “An egg with personality.”

Alísa let the half-hearted statement stand. They had spoken before of Sesína’s lack of desire to meet her father, but hypotheticals were often different from the real thing. 

Ahead, the scouts swooped into the largest cave mouth. Here, Koriana took the lead, diving through its maw. Sesína followed, the darkness engulfing them. As Alísa’s vision adjusted, colored pinpricks of glowing dragon eyes soon became visible, sprinkled throughout the cave. The clan was perhaps twenty-five dragons strong.

Alísa felt her slayers tense. Though Crakil knew they were coming, he hadn’t provided a fire to light their way as a courtesy. A fine start to their little talk, but one Koriana had predicted. A rush of wings passed Alísa and the sharp clops of dropping firewood echoed in the space. With a blast of her breath, Koriana lit the wood Saynan laid down, illuminating the cavern and all its crevices. 

Dragons clung to the cave walls and lounged in side caverns, all facing the great black dragon on the ground. Curiosity rose from Sesína as she landed fifty feet away, but she kept her emotions tied back so no one else would sense it.

Crakil’s flame-orange eyes flashed as the rest of Alísa’s dragons settled. Koriana landed last after lighting the fire. She sliced her tail through the air in a sign of authoritative displeasure. 

“Crakil. I present to you Alísa-Dragon-Singer.”

Crakil snapped his jaws, his creaking voice entering the clan’s link. “I know who she is, deserter. We’ve met before.”

“We have not.” Alísa slid to the floor and stepped forward. As she moved, dreki fluttered to their perches among her warriors. Chrí’s son Rís alighted on her shoulder. “You met a terrified girl who understood nothing. Before you stands an alpha who has not only defeated dragon and slayer alike, but has brought them together as allies.”

Rumbles echoed through the chamber, some holding more ire than others. Sesína kept Alísa in a light mind-choke to keep the actual emotions from bombarding her. Alísa only heard the alpha’s words through Sesína’s own connection to him. 

“The true Dragon Singer, Bria, never stooped to fraternize with slayers. You are a mere hatchling who could not leave the safety of her father’s wings.” Crakil’s gaze lifted to Koriana. “The Koriana I once knew would have kept the Singer on the correct currents. I see now that your mate’s teachings have corrupted you.” 

Graydonn growled, and Koriana snapped her jaws. Alísa rushed to speak before either could rise further to the antagonizing comment.

“Is it weak to choose peace rather than war?” Alísa indicated those behind her. “These brave souls prove—”

“It is weakness to let one’s enemy live,” Crakil countered. “The slayers murder, yet they stand among you as equals while you destroy dragon clans. I know how you destroyed all but a remnant of Rorenth’s clan, how you decimated Tsamen’s. Even as a scared hatchling, you brought F’renn to his doom. You are no friend of dragonkind, slayer wench!”

Rís hissed as jaws snapped at the air and tails thudded against the ground in agreement. Alísa’s heart pounded in her chest as she stepped forward to claim authority.

“Segenn. Tella. Karn. Lorin. I stood for dragons against each of these chiefs and their clans. Ask those behind me if I extended to Rorenth’s and Tsamen’s clans the same choice I gave the slayers. All who vowed to leave innocents alone have been protected.”

“And assimilated,” Crakil growled. “I will not give up my clan to you, Dragon Singer. Nor will I allow you to steal any away, as Koriana did my daughter.”

Sesína started, her mind-choke around Alísa faltering as Crakil’s eyes landed on her. Alísa pushed peace, resisting the urge to place a hand on her scales. Neither of them could show weakness here.

Crakil swiped his tail through the air, staring at Koriana. “I gave her to you to Illuminate and guide in the loss of her mother. You betrayed me, taking her away and allowing a human to Illuminate her! What life has she known? What would the Singer impose upon us if we ally with her?”

Sesína snapped her jaws. “I’m right here. Ask me yourself!”

The alpha dragon’s eyes dimmed marginally as his gaze returned to her. “Sesína.” He seemed to taste the name as he caught it in her telepathic connection. “Speak, daughter.”

Sesína stepped up alongside Alísa, wings raised slightly to make herself look bigger and more authoritative. “I have known a life of wonder. They say the Dragon Singer is a dragon’s soul in a human body. Illuminated by a human, I am the other side of the coin. Err” —she stopped, searching for a more draconic metaphor— “other side of the mountain? You know, the opposite.”

Sesína clawed at the rocky cave floor, recomposing herself. “I have seen the souls of humankind in a way other dragons cannot. And though I faced challenges growing up without a dragon’s Illumination, I have also seen dragonkind with fresher eyes than any hatchling. I see the beauties and horrors of both races, and I stand by Alísa-Dragon-Singer in the belief that we are stronger together than alone.”

Hearing the finality in Sesína’s tone, Alísa spoke again. “I do not wish to absorb your clan. I seek allies who will help us defend the innocent of both races.”

Alísa let the silence stretch as she finished. For a few seconds, not even a rumble of thought reached Alísa’s ears. Then Crakil growled.

“Of course, Sesína would speak as she has—she knows no better and loves her kidnapper as her mother.”

Sesína pulled her head back as though slapped, eyes dimming. Alísa gritted her teeth in anger, again resisting the urge to reach out and comfort her physically. 

“We have heard enough,” Crakil said, a growl in his throat. “Leave now. Sesína may stay if she wishes to be free—the rest of you are not welcome here.”

Alísa nodded curtly, her disappointment overwhelmed by her ire. “Then understand this. Clans may operate as they wish, but if you attack any of my allies—human or dragon—you will face our combined wrath.”

Crakil’s wings rose like hackles on a wolf. “We do not attack villages unless attacked first. It is beneath us.”

“Then we have no quarrel.” Alísa turned to Sesína, allowing her eyes to soften. She reached through their private connection. “You were amazing.”

Sesína rumbled in her chest. “I felt some of them respond. Not all of them are like him.”

Crakil roared. “No quarrel? You’ve taken my daughter, using her as a pack animal and coercing other dragons to act the same. You will stay out of our territory if you know what’s good for you!”

Alísa ignored him, pulling herself into place on Sesína’s back. “I know a bit about stubborn fathers.”

“Somehow, I don’t think this situation will turn out the same.”

Koriana growled at Crakil. “You could have Illuminated your daughter upon your mate’s death. Instead, you gave her up to a family of dragons you did not particularly like. Do not huff smoke now about your care for her.”

Alísa looked from dragon to dragon in the cave. Many of them displayed hostile postures similar to their alpha, but a few simply watched with light rumblings. They would follow Crakil, but they weren’t nearly as upset as he. Perhaps one day she could convince some of them to join her. 

But not today.

Catching Alísa’s desire, Sesína took off toward the entrance, the others behind her. Koriana was the last to leave. Her tail lashed as she leapt into the air, but Alísa felt satisfaction emanating from her. Catharsis, perhaps. At least someone had gotten something positive from this meeting. 

Two of Crakil’s scouts followed Alísa out of the cave—escorts to ensure she left the territory. Not wanting to report a complete failure to her father, Alísa made a gamble.

“Sesína, connect me to the scouts, please.”

Sesína reached out to them with her telepathy, allowing Alísa to speak.

“I have heard tales of the effectiveness of your clan’s scout network,” Alísa said, treading carefully. Koriana had been the one to set it up. “I wonder if you can help me. In our visits to villages, we’ve recently encountered an an’reik. We are trying to discover his origin or destination. Have you noticed anything?”

The dragons did not respond immediately. The lead scout and her young wing-dragon rumbled at each other. After a minute of bickering, the older dragoness spoke.

“We do not pay heed to the lives of humans. It is beneath us.”

Alísa felt herself slump. “Of course.”

Koriana growled. “But…” When the others remained quiet, she snapped her jaws. “You did not just argue about nothing. I know Carrási is radharc. Did she see something?”

Alísa struggled to keep up. Radharc anam was someone like Rassím, a soul-seer who could see an Eldra’s touch on a mortal. Was this Carrási one of Crakil’s scouts?

The lead scout kept quiet, but after a moment her wing-dragon spoke. “Yes. She reported seeing a human an’reik at the southern border of our territory a week ago. Riding west to east.”

Alísa straightened. “Can you show me where?”

The lead scout snapped her jaws at the younger dragon. “Koriana knows our border. Figure it out for yourself, traitors.”

Alísa would, once she got back to the cave and her maps. Direction wouldn’t reveal much, but it was better than—

Wait. “Did you say a week ago? Singular?”

The lead scout roared. “Leave!”

Koriana quickened her pace to come alongside Sesína. “We mustn’t try their patience anymore, else Crakil sends his warriors to fight. They did say a single week. If you encountered Tsorr further east one week ago—”

“Then there’s another an’reik headed in the same direction Tsorr was.” Alísa clutched Sesína’s spine tighter. “Koriana, take the rest of the squad home. Sesína and I will go to my father.”

For once, Koriana didn’t argue at the mere mention of Karn. She blinked slowly and sped ahead. Sesína veered south. Alísa wasn’t sure yet what they could do with this knowledge, but she certainly wouldn’t leave her former clan in the dark. Perhaps it was coincidence, but with so many an’reik encounters in such a short time, she wouldn’t take any chances.

7 | The Return

Kallar’s dagger was in his hand before he knew he was awake. Mind flaring with the knowledge of someone else’s proximity, he twisted from beneath his deerskin furs and thrust the blade between himself and the intruder. Moonlight poured through the open tent-flap, painting a shadowy silhouette. The shadow raised its hands as the opening closed behind it.

“Peace, Kallar. It’s me.”

Tern? Kallar relaxed only a fraction. Had Tern changed his mind after deserting? Or was he here to try again to convince Kallar to leave?

Or to end the threat of those allied with the Dragon Singer?

Kallar stood, dagger arm loose to feign lowering his guard. “What are you doing here?”

He could practically hear Tern’s eye-roll. “I missed you too.”

“I’m not the one who deserted.” 

He walked past Tern, mind wide open to sense any attack before it happened, and peered outside. The full moon aided him as he scanned camp. No shadows moved amidst the tents. No sounds of slayers turned assassins—nothing but snores from the tent next to his and the crackle of flames from the night watchmen’s campfire. 

Kallar pulled back inside. “Who else is with you?”

“No one. I had to leave them behind.” It sounded like a confession. “I can’t stay. I can’t trust Karn but—I had to tell you. About L’rang.”

Kallar’s blood turned to ice. Thoughts of dragons descending from the Fangs and razing everything to the ground rushed through his mind, irrational though they might be. It took everything within him to wait instead of demanding information.

“There are an’reik in L’rang. Both chiefs have welcomed them.”

“What?!” Kallar grabbed Tern’s shoulders, images of his father and younger brother flashing behind his eyes. “What do you mean, ‘welcomed’? They’re just wandering the streets, performing their blood magic and dark ceremonies? The chiefs are too smart for that. They have to be. They would never let—could never be…”

He backed off as his stomach roiled, a far less welcome emotion coursing through him. If the chiefs welcomed an’reik, what would it mean for the slayers who would rather fight? Pa wouldn’t roll over and allow an’reik to walk the streets, spreading whatever dark magic they pleased and sacrificing to bloodthirsty fallen Eldír.

Tern gripped Kallar’s newly healed arm. “I didn’t witness any dark ceremonies. The an’reik are just there, appearing ordinary and claiming to want to fight dragons. Nothing seemed wrong until I caught one attempting to murder a family in a back alley. That’s when I retreated. Took them to Azron, then came here.”

Kallar looked up. “You went to Azron first? How long ago was this?”

“I left L’rang a month ago.” Tern jumped back as Kallar advanced toward him. “The family had no one—I needed to make them my priority. Toronn was the only chief I knew wouldn’t fall to either an’reik or the Dragon Singer. I swear, I came looking for you as soon as I got them to safety. It isn’t exactly easy to find you now that Karn’s got the wayfarers off-course.”

A month. Kallar ground his teeth. His father wouldn’t stand by for an entire month. Had he opposed them? Pushed them back? Or, without the slayer chief’s support, would he have fled and gotten his family out of harm’s way?

“Karn.” Kallar met Tern’s concerned gaze. “You need to tell him what you’ve told me.”

Tern’s eyes hardened. “Do what you must, but I won’t stand before that traitor again.”

“Idiot. Karn isn’t the traitor here. Think!” Kallar slapped his hands together for emphasis. “The an’reik claim they want to fight dragons—dragons who should be their allies if the stories are true that all dragons belong to the Nameless.” Bile rose with the admission, but he wouldn’t stand by and wait for his family to be slaughtered. “I’ve seen an’reik oppose Alísa and Karn. One party is lying, and you’ve already caught the an’reik in their lies. You’ve deserted the wrong side.”

“Or they’re both the enemy, and we’re caught in the middle.”

“Wake up! Alísa’s clan saved our hides that day, even before Karn agreed to peace.” 

“You agree with her?” Tern scoffed. “You, who would have happily bathed in dragon blood if it meant their evil was gone? Now you side with the flaming Dragon Singer?!”

Tern’s questions echoed Kallar’s own. He didn’t want to fight this fight, couldn’t make himself argue further for the goodness of some dragons. So he switched tactics.

“Look. If they are both the enemy, we are hopelessly outnumbered. Our best bet is to help one take out the other. Now, would you rather fight alongside those who have allied with dark Eldír, or the misguided daughter of the chief?”

“And her dragons, that also follow the Nameless.”

Kallar shook his head. “I saw her memories. Much as I hate to admit, Alísa has found some…tolerable dragons. At least, ones that won’t raze villages to the ground. They certainly won’t eat someone’s soul like a Nameless would.”

Tern clenched his fists. “What about Trísse? One of those monsters bound her to itself! Morning, she was herself; evening, she was choosing it over me. Over her family! What does that sound like to you?”

Tern’s frustration coiled in the astral plane, ready to turn to anger and strike. They had both lost their women to the dragons, but Tern had gotten the worst of it. He and Trísse actually loved each other.

Kallar needed a softer touch. Forget his anger and fear—reach his former sword-partner.

He looked Tern in the eye. “I don’t know why Trísse did it, but I can tell you she’s okay. She’s been around camp, acting like herself, visiting with family. Alísa would never let anyone harm her.”

Tern averted his gaze, but the astral plane shifted. Kallar almost had him. He placed a hand on Tern’s shoulder.

“I’ve been able to avoid the dragons for the most part. You can too. We’ll go to Karn and make a plan to fight the an’reik. Once the primary threat is gone, we’ll figure out the rest.”

A moment of hesitation. “Will he even listen? I deserted. What is the punishment for that?”

Kallar didn’t know. No one had ever deserted before. Karn wasn’t terribly hard, and Tern brought important information. But desertion dishonored both a man and his former chief. 

Still, better that Tern stay with us than walk alone.

Kallar squeezed Tern’s shoulder. “I’ve stood beside you against dragons—do you think I would waver before men?”

The astral plane shifted as Tern tested the emotions running through it. He would find no lies. Finally, Tern reached up to grip Kallar’s arm and nodded resolutely. 

Victory.

***

“—I took the family to a safe village far away from L’rang. Then I returned to you, great chief.” 

Tern barely met Karn’s eyes throughout the story, often glancing at Kallar for reassurance. The campfire backlit Karn’s face, shadowing his expression. Hanah, L’non, and head scout Drennar stood with him, each at varying stages of alertness after the midnight awakening. With anything else, Kallar would have approached them in the morning. With his family possibly at the mercy of an’reik, however, Kallar could not wait. 

In Karn’s silence, Tern shifted. He appeared genuinely remorseful—no longer combative, as in Kallar’s tent. Standing before his former chief, perhaps he had remembered just how great was the man he had betrayed.

Karn looked at Kallar. “You believe his words?”

“We’ve trained, fought, and bled together for years,” Kallar said. “I know when he’s bluffing.”

Scrutiny filled Karn’s eyes, and Kallar braced himself for the question that would come next. Was he certain that fear for his family and home village was not clouding his judgment?

But Karn didn’t ask, instead turning to L’non and the others. 

“Nomadic an’reik attack camp. Rumors of more turning in the south. Tsorr in Lorin’s village. A dragon scout spotting another heading east. Now this? An’reik gathering openly in a major town?”

L’non nodded gravely. “If I had to guess, I’d say Tsorr and this second an’reik Alísa spoke of were heading to L’rang as well.”

Karn returned to Tern, tone sharp. “How many were there, boy?”

Tern startled, then recomposed. “I’ve seen nine or ten—”

Drennar scoffed. “That would hardly overrun a village with a slayer population as large as L’rang’s.”

“It’s not just the an’reik themselves,” Tern rushed to finish. “They are winning over slayers. Good men and women are placing themselves under their command. A couple of them even spoke of becoming an’reik themselves. We have to save them from their lies.”

A shadow passed over Karn’s face, the chief still uncertain in Tern’s report. Kallar couldn’t let that be—he needed to hear from his family. 

“You know what they’ll do, Karn,” Kallar said. “We’ve always known they are more dangerous than even the dragons.”

Calculations ran through Karn’s eyes. Calculations that would certainly include things Kallar didn’t care about, such as the Maker and his Eldír. Kallar wanted to eradicate the an’reik in order to physically protect humanity. Blood magic, dark deals, people who cared for nothing but their own goals—all would destroy the lives of many innocent people. This was all Kallar cared about.

But for most of the clan, including Karn, the conflict held spiritual weight. The an’reik advocated turning away from the Maker and his Eldír, something Karn viewed as inherently evil. Kallar did his best not to judge his master for it, but in Kallar’s estimation, the Maker cared for humanity just as little as the Nameless did.

The slightest relaxing of Karn’s shoulders declared Kallar’s victory. “L’non, take Tern to the watchmen to be kept under guard. We will discuss how to handle this news.”

Tern stiffened and Kallar shook his head, remembering his promise. “Tern was there. We’ll need his insight.”

“We’re sending our own scouts before we do anything,” Karn said. “I will not entrust my men’s well-being to a deserter’s word.” 

L’non moved to grab Tern, but Kallar got between them. “I will take responsibility for him. He can help us, Karn, both with his knowledge of the situation and with his sword. He will prove himself again.”

Karn’s eyes narrowed, shifting between Tern and Kallar. Kallar remained tall at Tern’s side, as he did on every battlefield. They were sword-partners. Yes, Tern had abandoned him in a desperate moment, but he returned. That counted for something. 

Finally, Karn relented. “Very well. He will stay under your watch. But if his presence harms anyone, understand that is your responsibility as well.”

Kallar nodded curtly. “I understand.”

The matter settled, Karn turned his attention to Drennar. “We need a team of scouts, fast and stealthy, to assess the state of the village and enemy numbers. Keep the team small enough to avoid the temptation to engage on their own.” Karn looked at Kallar. “I know your family is there. Can I trust you to recognize whether it is safe to extract them? Can I entrust my men’s safety to your leadership?”

“Yes.” 

Karn scrutinized him, but he would find no lie in Kallar’s promise. He knew the men and their capabilities. If it wasn’t safe, Kallar would send the scouts away and stay behind alone to get his family out.

“Good. Drennar, pick the men. Tell them to be ready to leave at sunrise. While they are gone, the clan will also move toward L’rang to be nearby when they return. Alísa will find us easily enough from the sky, and we will request her help clearing the village.”

Dragons descending on L’rang. Keeping the village-bound slayers from attacking Alísa’s clan would be difficult, at best. L’rang’s slayers were more than used to dragon attacks due to the proximity of the Fangs. But they would ford that river when they came to it.

And should a few dragons fall in the chaos—

Kallar shook his head. He couldn’t think like that anymore. Besides, that would kill riders too. No, he had a new quarry now.

Karn dismissed the leadership with orders to ensure the clan would be ready to move in the morning. Kallar caught Tern’s attention and nodded toward his tent. They started forward together, but Karn clapped a hand on Kallar’s shoulder. With the others gone, the chief now displayed both fatigue and concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I will be, when I know my family is safe.” He paused a moment before adding. “Thank you for sending me instead of Drennar.”

“You have done enough sitting down this last month. You were made to move.” Karn squeezed his shoulder. “Do not make me regret this choice.”

“I won’t. In and out, then the battle.”

“Good man.” Karn released him. “Get some sleep, if you can. You’ll be no help to your family without it.”

Kallar pulled his fist to his heart, affirming the order, then returned to the darkness of his tent. He wasn’t sure he could rest with his fear for his family and eagerness for the task ahead, but he provided Tern with extra furs and laid down.

Tomorrow, it was time—finally time—to move.

8 | Trust

For the tenth time since waking up, Falier checked his pocket.

Still there.

“And it will continue to be there.” Graydonn poked Falier in the shoulder with his muzzle. “You’re quite nervous for a man who is sure she’ll accept.”

Falier rubbed the back of his neck, surveying the main cave as it slowly woke. “Any chance you could just” —he sucked in a sharp breath to illustrate— “the anxiety out of me?”

Graydonn wove around a tent. “No. I could push calm to you, but where’s the fun in that? I prefer to tease.”

“Thanks. Really feeling your support here.” 

Falier shoved Graydonn’s shoulder, glad for someone to joke with amid his nerves. The action, though, made his muscles remind him just how hard he had been working them. He stretched his arm across his chest as Graydonn thrummed his good mood. No arguments today. No training today. Today had a different goal entirely.

They stopped at the kitchen area, where crates of food were stacked high, cauldrons hung over fire-pits, and a dreki-carved hole in the wall became a makeshift oven. Selene and another woman already stood behind a flat stone surface, prepping the day’s breakfast. 

A bit of envy ran through Falier. He missed working the kitchens and serving the clan. But no. He shook the thoughts away. As tiern, he would still serve them, just differently. 

Selene pulled out a loaf of sweetbread wrapped in a cloth. “As requested.”

Falier took the proffered food. “Thank you. It’s her favorite.”

“I know. You told me three times already.” Selene chuckled as she came around the platform and hugged him. “Have fun. I’d say good luck, but you don’t need it.”

Falier forced himself to slump into the hug and release the tension in his body. “I just want it to go perfectly.”

“Hey, if it doesn’t, you’ll have something to laugh about later.” Selene stepped back with a wink. “Now go, wake the poor girl from her slumber.”

Falier shook his head. “Thanks for the food.”

Alísa’s tent was only a hundred paces away, backed up against a wall with ropes tied to stalagmites and a nail pounded into the stone. Smaller than most tents, it had only one chamber, like his own. Sesína lay just outside the entrance, her tail and neck curled up under a wing. The dragoness’ snout peeked out, revealing sharp teeth as she snored faintly.

Graydonn reached out to Sesína. “It’s time. Are you awake?”

Falier could have sworn he heard a mental yawn. “‘er-mean. Fi-mor-minutes.”

Falier looked at Graydonn. “I didn’t know telepathic speech could slur.” 

“Only when we want it to.” Graydonn thrummed. “Wake her, Sesína, or Falier will die of nerves.”

Falier glared at him. “I’m not that bad.”

Sesína grumbled, shifting to reveal a glowing emerald eye. “You got the things?”

“Yes.” Falier resisted the urge to check again. He had wrapped the pieces in a silk cloth and placed them in a buttoned pocket. Even with all the flying they planned to do, it couldn’t fall out.

The dragoness uncurled and stretched her long neck, her spine popping several times. Then she stuck her head through the tent opening and, guessing by her motions, began prodding Alísa with her snout. Alísa moaned within, followed by an “oof!” as Sesína jabbed her harder.

“Wake up, birthday girl,” Sesína said. “One should always pay attention when being kidnapped.”

Alísa’s part of the telepathic link buzzed to alertness. “Kidnapped? What are you—”

“I’m under duress.” Sesína’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “There’s a slayer out here, and a dragon, both with cruel timing. They’ve threatened to keep waking me up at this horrible hour for the rest of my life if I don’t get you up.”

Rustling came from inside the tent and Alísa emerged, her bed-clothes covered by her cloak. She looked between Falier and Graydonn, curiosity sparking.

“What is she talking about?”

Falier winked at Alísa. “You’re coming with us. No arguments, no complaints.”

“And no responsibilities,” Graydonn added.

Falier grinned. “Happy birthday!”

Alísa’s smile formed, then dropped. “I have duties today. Briek, Koriana, and I were—”

“Moved to tomorrow,” Sesína said, pulling from the tent. “What did he say about arguing?”

“But Laen and the dreki need—”

“Taken care of.”

“But—”

Sesína snorted steam in Alísa’s face. “Do you know how difficult it is to clear your schedule without you noticing? Don’t undo all my sneakiness!”

Alísa glanced at Falier and Graydonn, her eyes silently begging for confirmation. 

Falier held up his pack. “You aren’t going to let Selene’s blackberry sweetbread go to waste, are you?”

Alísa shrugged. “I’m sure you’d find someone to take it off your hands.”

Falier glanced behind him. “Should I start looking?”

“No!” Alísa hurried forward, a playful smile on her face as she grabbed for the bag. Falier twisted and pinned her to his side with his free arm.

“Caught you.” 

He pressed a kiss to her lips, which she returned eagerly, wrapping her arms around him. 

Or, rather, reaching around him, to grab for the pack. 

“Hey!” He pulled back, grinning. “No food till the kidnapping is complete. Sesína, get her dressed more warmly. Graydonn and I will be waiting at the landing platform. With the bread, in case she gets any more ideas.”

Alísa giggled. “No please, I’ll do whatever you say—just don’t take the sweetbread!”

Sesína rolled her eyes and draped a wing over Alísa’s shoulder to pull her away. “So dramatic.”

Falier chuckled and climbed onto Graydonn, trying not to wince at the soreness in his legs. Phase one complete. On to phase two!

Chilly morning air whisked Falier’s breath away as Graydonn and Sesína raced down the mountainside. Each twist and turn made his stomach flip with exhilaration. How Graydonn and Sesína could keep this up for over an hour astounded him. Alísa’s songs helped, but she only sang a few times. The rest was pure draconic energy and muscle.

Black scales darted past them. The sound of Alísa’s song was barely audible over the wind, and nothing poured into Graydonn’s mind.

Graydonn trumpeted a playful note. “No fair, only giving Sesína the strength song!”

Sesína called back to him with a wolf-like bay, her tone high with elation.

Graydonn flapped his wings with increasing intensity as he chased her, the two dragons soaring higher into the sky. Just as fatigue began edging Graydonn’s mind, Alísa’s power filtered into him as well. Her strength coursed through the mind-kin bond and filled Falier with its echoes. It didn’t make him physically stronger as it did for Graydonn, but it bolstered him with something akin to hope or confidence. 

Of course, he might feel that simply because Alísa, his beloved, was exuding such joy. When she sang it felt like his insides both melted and became stronger. How the two feelings mingled together he could not explain. It was just—love.

Graydonn thrummed. “Careful. If Sesína catches that thought, she’ll gag.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll save the rest for when both of you are elsewhere.”

The mind-link widened as Graydonn caught up to Sesína, allowing the dragons to dance in swirling patterns. They weren’t as graceful as the dreki, but the communication link helped them anticipate each other’s movements and avoid collisions. Sometimes the whole clan danced like this in a show of camaraderie, their massive bodies becoming light as the air itself.

Falier leaned into Graydonn’s movements as wind, gravity, and momentum all pulled him in different directions. His eyes met Alísa’s as Sesína flipped upside-down over Graydonn. An inkling ran through the shared mind-link, calling Sesína to flip over them again. When Sesína passed over, Falier and Alísa reached toward each other for a mid-air high-five. His palm stung from the force of it, but he joined the others in their exclamations of delight.

With the group’s spirits soaring, Falier decided it was time for phase three. He directed the dragons up the mountain they currently flew around. It wasn’t their home peak, just another within their territory, and it had a small flat section near the top. 

Talons scraped against stone as the dragons landed. The section was too cramped with everyone, but became the perfect size after Graydonn and Sesína departed. 

Falier took the bag off his shoulder and touched his pocket. Still there. Alísa, meanwhile, swept her gaze over the land below, with its green hills, winding rivers, and jagged mountains in the distance. The wind blew through her hair, cloak, and skirt, adding an ethereal tone to her beauty.

Falier stepped up beside her and tried to see what she did. Their mountain range stretched to the south and northwest, most peaks taller and therefore colder and harsher than this one. To the east of the range was Tella’s portion of the hill country, and beyond it the forests where Falier had grown up. To the west lay Karn’s land, less lush than Tella’s, but more vast. Alísa’s eyes fixed there. She loved this land—had walked every hill, splashed in every river, visited every village. It was as much a part of her as her songs were.

Falier wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She swiped at her cheek before leaning into him. 

“Thank you,” she said. “First the flying, now the q—quiet. And the view. I haven’t taken the t-time to just look recently. It’s—”

A whistling wind yanked her words away. Chuckling, Falier connected them telepathically. 

“Say again?”

“It’s different on dragon-back, when everything is rushing by” —Alísa grinned— “like that wind.”

“True.” It was probably better they were speaking telepathically, anyway. She would feel more comfortable answering his question. He motioned out at Karn’s land. “Tell me about this hill country. Why do you love it?”

Alísa snuggled closer as a sharper breeze cut across the mountaintop, wrapping both arms around his ribs and setting her head on his shoulder. “How could anyone not?”

“I’ve seen so little, most while flying.”

Alísa pondered a moment. “I love the wind. Especially when it gives you an excuse to hold me.”

Falier laughed. “I like that too. But seriously—tell me about your homeland.”

She gave him a curious look, then motioned at the hills. “It’s freedom. Everything is so vast and open. I love the way the land dips and curves, giving each piece its own personality, and how the winds flow through them as though calling me to dance. I love how green prevails—even when summer washes it out to yellows and browns, green still thrives in the valleys. And in the springtime, the wildflowers grace the hills with their joy and vitality.”

She turned her smile to him, full of happiness that overwhelmed their connection. “And the sky, so unimpeded—at least until it reaches the mountains. But even the mountains, once considered omens of death, are now full of beauty. Then there’s the stars, close enough to touch. The small patches of trees that provide shelter. Don’t ask me to pick a favorite—I could go on forever.”

Falier smiled back. “I know. The way your face lights up, I couldn’t miss it if I tried.” He fiddled with his pocket. Here went nothing. “I hope everyone sees that on me when I look at you.”

She looked down, bashful, though her emotions said she was pleased. He continued, pairing bits and pieces of her speech to the words he had planned.

“I love how kind and open you are, how you give others freedom to be themselves and to grow around you. I love your musicianship and that one of my first memories with you is of dancing. In wind or rain, you’re my favorite person to dance with.”

Alísa looked at him again, her self-consciousness growing. “You too. I—”

Falier placed a gentle finger on her lips, which stopped her despite their using mind-speech. “Let me finish?”

Alísa pressed her lips together and nodded.

“I love your strength in the face of adversity, like the greens that refuse to die in summer’s heat. Seeing you grow in that has been an encouragement and a joy. Your smiles are as precious as the wildflowers, your laughter as the stars. The way you found beauty in the mountains astounds me. Your eyes, blue like a storm, fill me with hope and music. Don’t ask me to pick a favorite attribute—I could go on forever.”

Her eyes lowered, then returned to his. Her emotions wavered between pleasure, embarrassment, and happiness. “I don’t think I can handle much more.”

“Only two more words, then.” Falier pulled from her embrace, the mountain’s chill filling the space between them. Taking her hands in his, he fell to one knee. “Marry me, Líse?”

A wide grin. “That’s three.”

Falier chuckled. “I hope you don’t love me for my brains, then.”

Alísa lowered to her knees in front of him, eyes soft. “Brains, heart—all.”

She kissed him—really kissed him. Fingers in his hair, body pressed to his, lips longing. He wrapped his arms around her and twisted like a dip at the end of a dance. Falier’s heart sang and ached, rejoicing in her obvious answer and longing for more. More would come, but later. He pulled back.

“Does that mean yes?”

Alísa giggled. “Yes! I will marry you.”

Falier grinned and straightened them both upright. Pressing his forehead to hers, he whispered aloud. “I got something for you.”

He unbuttoned his pocket and pulled out the silk cloth, lumpy with its contents. Unfolding it, he drew out a necklace. A silversmith at one of their allied villages had jewelry of many kinds, each exquisite piece crafted into shapes of nature and knotted symbols. He had exchanged five days of work at the village Hold for the money, each day disguised as a scouting venture or training flight with Graydonn. 

Alísa gasped when he held it up—a delicate tree with roots that twisted together into the knot that symbolized trust.

“I thought of you the moment I saw this,” he said. “Of days we spent walking and training in the forest after you entrusted me with your story. Of dancing in the storm with the rain making music in the leaves. There’s no better foundation than trust, and I trust you completely.”

“And I you,” she said, reaching up to loosen her blue dragon scale necklace. She went to place it in her skirt pocket, but Falier held out his hand for it. Alísa hesitated.

Falier winked. “Trust me.”

Chuckling, Alísa placed her beloved necklace in his palm. Then she took up Falier’s gift and put it on. She fingered it, then looked up at him.

“I love it.”

“I’m glad.” He pulled the second part of his gift out of the silk cloth—a thick leather bracelet with knotted etchings for family, chiefdom, and protection. “And since I know you’d be lost without your pa’s scale…”

He showed Alísa a dug out portion in the leather, shaped like Karn’s dragon scale with two small holes on one side. Her head tilted in curiosity, making his smile widen. Pulling the sapphire pendant free of its chain, he bent the leather bracelet just enough to reveal the lip at the edges of the dug out portion. The scale’s edges slid beneath the lip until the top where the hole for the chain remained. Recalling the leatherworker’s instructions, Falier threaded a thin strap through the holes in both the bracelet and scale, tying it off with a neat knot to hold everything together.

He offered the piece to Alísa, who just stared at it. 

“That fits p—perfectly. How—?”

“Sesína is sneakier than anyone gives her credit for.” He fastened the bracelet around Alísa’s wrist. “She stole the necklace while you were sleeping so I could take measurements.”

Alísa’s laugh was musical. “I’ll have t-t-to be more c-careful with my jewelry.”

“Please do,” he said, releasing her newly clad wrist. “Silver isn’t as hardy as a dragon’s scale.”

She hummed, looking at the bracelet while fingering her betrothal necklace. “It’s perfect. Everything’s perfect.” She hugged him again, shivering as a blast of wind hit them. “The only way to make it more p-p-perfect is a thicker cloak.”

Falier reached into his bag. “Got you covered.”

He pulled out a wool blanket to wrap over their shoulders, but jumped as a drek tumbled out too. Rís gave a high-pitch squeal as he thumped to the ground. His ruby mane rippled down his neck and back as he shook himself and barked at Falier.

What had Selene said about something to laugh at?

“Rís!” Alísa leaned down to scoop up the drek. “What are you doing here?”

Rís let out a pitiful whimper. “Warm.”

Alísa stroked Rís’ mane with two fingers. “Does your papá know you’re here?”

The little drek’s ruby eyes and wing-baubles glowed for a second, like they always did when joining minds. Then he dimmed and gave a satisfied trill. “Now.”

Leaping into the air, Rís swirled and chirped gleefully, as if the last few seconds hadn’t happened.

“D—don’t get too far,” Alísa said. “It’s a long flight home on wings small as yours.”

Rís growled—more cute than menacing—and twisted away, content to play now that his nap was through.

Shaking his head, Falier returned to the bag. “I hope he didn’t—aha! Nope.” He pulled out the cloth-wrapped sweetbread. “Looks intact. Want some?”

Alísa drew the blanket around herself and nodded eagerly. He broke the small loaf and handed her half, then settled next to her as she draped one end of the blanket over his shoulders. 

They ate in silence, gazing over the land. Falier tried to focus there, but his mind raced with joy. She said yes! This beautiful, musical, heart-filled woman he loved so much would soon be his wife!

He needed to send a message to Ma and Pa. Could they assign a dragon-rider pair as messengers, to make delivery faster? Or perhaps he and Alísa could take two days and tell them in-person. Briek and Koriana could manage the clan for a bit. Or were thoughts of leaving irresponsible? Especially given all the talk of an’reik activity.

Why was his mind racing so—

A trumpet of alarm rang out and shuddered through the mind-kin bond. Falier shot up with Alísa.

“Graydonn! What—”

“It’s an attack!” Graydonn said. “Dragons are attacking a village!”

A second later, Sesína flew into view, veering toward their mountaintop. She provided a village name Falier didn’t know but Alísa did. Falier caught sight of smoke to the southwest. Dropping the remnants of her food, Alísa ran to the edge of the mountain to meet Sesína. The dragoness’ talons scraped against rock, her wings wide in alarm.

“We’re closer than the rest of the clan,” she said. “If you sing for us, I’m sure we can fend them off!”

Skepticism passed through Graydonn’s mind. “First sing for the clan. Call them to our aid. We don’t know the number of attackers.”

Barks rang out over the wind as Rís returned and dove for Alísa’s belt-pouch. He slipped inside as Alísa jumped onto Sesína’s back. They took off, allowing Graydonn room to land and collect Falier. Leaving his blanket and bag, Falier climbed on and they launched after Sesína.

9 | Lying Logic

Alísa cursed her terrible luck. Of course, dragons would attack during her one chance to be alone with Falier in weeks. Of course, she would only get half an hour to enjoy being betrothed before disaster yanked her away.

She shoved the thoughts aside and fixed her eyes on the rising smoke. She couldn’t afford self-pity now. It was ten minutes to the village at the rate Sesína flew, the dragoness’ limbs already tired from all the exercise of the morning. She and Graydonn would both require strength. 

But first, Alísa needed to summon the clan. Focusing on their urgent need, she filled her lungs and sang.

Dragons, dreki, hear my call
Come quickly now to aid my fight
Alert the riders, one and all
Your chief faces a deadly plight 

For everywhere the war burns on
And innocents cry for release
Come stand with me, fight for the dawn
To show them all the way to peace 

Power poured from her, stretching for the cave. In her bag, Rís chirped, harmonizing with certain notes. His head poked out to reveal glowing eyes. He, too, reached out to the cave. Could the dreki connect from this distance?

“Alísa, the smoke is getting worse!” Sesína growled beneath her. “We need your help, now!”

Alísa shifted her melody into her most familiar strength song—one she could sing without thinking. “How many attackers?”

“Eight.” She said it matter-of-factly, like counting the shiny stones of her collection. “We can take them!”

“I would suggest a more careful approach,” Graydonn said. “We might do better if we wait for reinforcements.”

Sesína snarled. “People are dying!”

“And how will our own deaths help them?”

“We won’t need to consider that if I get them to stop,” Alísa said. Battle was now only two minutes away. Time to sway the dragons. She reached out to them in song.

On and on
Must this bloodshed rage upon
Our land and leave us cold and wan?
Or can we change?

On and on
May my—

Alísa gasped and cried out as sharp pain ripped through her mind, accompanied by an unholy screech like talons against a metal shield. Sesína faltered, dipping to one side as the stabs infected her as well.

“Líse!” 

Falier locked a shield around her and Sesína’s minds, shutting out the barrage. Alísa breathed hard, hand to her head as the remnants of the attack throbbed in her skull. 

Sesína hissed as she righted herself. “What was that?”

“I don’t know. Something—isn’t right. The dragons attacked me, but with a power I’ve never felt before.”

“Um, Líse. I think you got their attention.”

Alísa looked up to see three giant dragons bearing down on them. She gritted her teeth.

“We’re faster than them. Bank around the village and ascend to where their slayers can’t reach you. Evade while Falier and I fight psychically. Stay together. Go!”

Sesína banked and Graydonn took wing-position. Pain still shuddered through Alísa’s mind, like prickling drek claws skittering over it. She forced herself to sing again and push out strength to Sesína and Graydonn as the three enemy dragons gave chase.

Flames and smoke shot up from multiple buildings as Sesína circled the village. People ran for the underground dragon shelters while slayers stood along their path to protect them. Two dragons stood in the square, a black one fighting slayers on the ground while a blue breathed fire into homes and—

Alísa’s stomach churned as the dragon pounced on someone emerging from the house. Its snout glistened red with blood. Her veins chilled, then ran hot with fury. 

Man-eater. Only an’reik dragons ate iompróir anam.

Sesína swerved and ascended, calling Alísa’s attention away. A quick plan crossed between Sesína and Graydonn and they aimed for a copper dragon. Sesína banked hard for its underbelly. Alísa gripped the spine in front of her, bracing herself. Power shot through the astral plane as Falier mind-speared the copper just as Sesína slammed into its stomach.

The copper roared in outrage, sparks dripping from its mouth. Alísa clung to a spine as Sesína ripped at the tough but scaleless skin with her talons, then pushed off it. Meanwhile, Graydonn attacked its wings, tearing them with a ferocity that belied the dragon’s typical demeanor. With surprise on their side, the enemy dragon fell quickly.

A roar shook the air, terrible and mighty. Alísa looked down, catching sight of the massive sapphire man-eater on the ground. Its snout pointed at Graydonn.

“Falier, shield!”

The psychic attack hit just as Falier complied. He cried out as his shield shattered on impact, but Graydonn was unimpeded. Fire gushed from another dragon and Graydonn dove under the blaze. 

The blue dragon stared at Graydonn and Falier, power gathering for a second mind-spear. Falier’s portion of the link fuzzed with pain. He wouldn’t be ready. 

Alísa released her strength song and shout-sang at the enemy dragon. “Bind!”

Her power slammed into the dragon’s mind and spread. Lightning crackled in Alísa’s heart at the contact—burning, biting, and cold. She gasped and silenced her song, yanking her mind back.

“Duck!”

Alísa followed Sesína’s command without thought, cringing as blazing heat rushed through the air above her. Sesína banked hard, away from the fire and toward Graydonn to regroup. Two dragons speared for them, eyes blazing with hate. Then, from nowhere, a pulse rocked the astral plane. Nausea rippled through Sesína’s mind and body and filtered into Alísa.

Another pulse. 

The dragon chasing Graydonn veered away. 

Another.

Rís growled from within Alísa’s belt pouch.

Another.

Sesína groaned, listing to one side. “Graydonn, do you feel that?”

Graydonn tossed his head like an aggravated horse. “It’s so…dark.”

Falier stretched his power over Graydonn while Alísa whispered a shielding song over Sesína and Rís. The psychic ripples continued, chasing the enemy dragons toward the mountains. Over and over, the feelings washed against Alísa’s shield until, suddenly, they stopped.

Sesína banked in a wide arc over a field south of the village. “What was that?”

Alísa pressed a hand to her head. “I don’t know, but whatever it was saved us.” 

Falier motioned to the burning buildings. “Should we check on them? Find out if we can help?”

Graydonn hummed a warning. “They don’t know us yet.” 

Alísa blew out a breath. “But they know me as Karns-daughter. And the slayers would have seen us fighting their attackers. We’ll go carefully.”

Sesína and Graydonn landed at the top of a hill outside the village. The dragons hid behind the hill as Alísa and Falier descended into the chaos of villagers beating down flames with blankets. A crowd gathered at the well, carrying buckets and large pots to be filled with water and tossed on fires. Like most western villages, the buildings were primarily stone and brick, but many had smoke pouring out through windows as curtains and furniture inside burned. Multiple dragons must have landed and shot fire through the small openings.

A slayer with a drawn sword stepped into Alísa’s path. “Who are you?”

Alísa swallowed back her anxieties. “Alísa, d—daughter of K-K-Karn. I’m here t-t-to help.”

“The Dragon Singer?” He tightened the grip on his weapon. “You did this?!”

Alísa held up peaceful hands as more slayers turned their attention to her. “N—no. You saw the t-t-t-two smaller dragons f—fighting the attackers? That was us.”

“There’s a dead copper dragon on the eastern side of the village.” Falier stepped up. “You’ll see talon marks on the stomach and ripped wings that made it fall to its death. We’re on your side, and we’re here to help.”

“Help?” A tall man with dark skin and a shaved head approached, the red sash of a slayer chief draped across his chest. Chief R’gan. Another man, this one pale and freckled, walked close behind him. The slayers parted for them, now ignoring the villagers’ commotion as they worked to extinguish the flames. “And yet the famous Dragon Singer, who supposedly commands the beasts, was not who rescued us today.”

R’gan indicated the man behind him and spoke more to his people than Alísa. “It was Moraggan, not Karns-daughter, who sent the monsters away. We had imprisoned him for his heresy, but as the dragons descended, he claimed to be able to stop them. In our dire situation, I knew we had nothing to lose.”

Alísa’s stomach clenched. ‘Heresy.’ Claiming power to stop dragons. The strange pulses Graydonn called dark. All painted a picture Alísa prayed she saw incorrectly.

“I set Moraggan free,” the chief continued, “and he fulfilled his word. I now declare him a friend to our village. He may walk freely and speak his message when the disaster has ended and we have mourned the lost.”

Moraggan bowed his head. “Thank you, my friend. I only wish I could have helped sooner, but the power given me requires line-of-sight.” He looked at Alísa. “You are right when you say the Dragon Singer commands the creatures. One can only wonder why she, who was present before my release, did not send them away herself.”

Alísa clenched her fists. His words, ‘the power given me’, all but confirmed he was an’reik too. Perhaps the one Carrási had seen. Another messenger sent to deceive the villages and turn them from the peace she offered.

“I d—do command dragons, b—but I do not control them. Each is iompróir anam, free to choose j—j—just—”

“Iompróir anam!” Moraggan scoffed. “Did you hear that? She equates the monsters with us!”

“Speak for yourself, sold-soul,” a slayer growled, earning a glare from his chief.

Moraggan ignored the man. “Daughter of slayers and blessed with a powerful gift, she should have been the one to send the monsters retreating. Instead, she is too blinded by love for the beasts to do her job. Look at her, bringing more dragons to your village now!”

Alísa followed his pointed finger to see growing dots in the sky. Her clan. “Sesína—”

“I’ll get them to back off. Tell me when you’re ready for me to come bite off his head!”

“That’s our clan,” Falier said in Alísa’s silence. “Coming to fight for you. They were further away than we were, but we came despite being outnumbered. We are on your side.”

“And yet you did not deliver us from the attackers,” R’gan said.

“She already told you!” Falier said, exasperated. “Her powers can’t force dragons to obey. They call to a dragon’s heart. If they don’t align, the dragons will continue in their own way.”

“Did she even have time to call?” The slayer who had spoken against Moraggan spoke again. “It looked to me like she jumped in as quickly as she could to help us, rather than bandy words with our attackers.”

Slayers near him grumbled, and the chief sent him another silencing glare.

“At least some of those d—d—dragons were an’reik.” Alísa forced herself to meet Moraggan’s eyes. “Why do you fight your own kind?”

Moraggan smirked. “And how do you know this? Did you take the time to talk to your precious dragons as they attacked? Hear their life-stories when you could have aided these people sooner?”

“Only an’reik dragons would d—dare anger the Maker by eating iompróir anam.”

Moraggan’s eyes narrowed. “And I suppose one of your dragons told you this? Another lie to make you believe they themselves have souls?”

“If you are on our side,” R’gan stepped in, “why do you care who saved us? Why not celebrate the victory and help the wounded?”

Falier stiffened beside her. “That’s what we—”

“It seems she opposes anyone with the strength to match her.” Moraggan tsked. “Now, why might that be?”

Slayers pressed in around Alísa and Falier, crowding the astral plane with their anger. Alísa pulled her empathy close to avoid being overwhelmed, though ire sparked in her own soul. Moraggan twisted everything she said, as Yarlan once had. His shackles of shame no longer held her captive, but she still possessed no skill in untwisting hateful lies.

“I’ll tell you why,” Moraggan continued. “This Singer’s sole aim is the well-being of dragons. She wants you on her side, speaking words of peace that will turn into dragons ruling over us! Well, the an’reik see through her.” A pulse like the ones earlier rocked the astral plane. “And we’re here to stop her.”

Alarm rushed through the Illumination bond, followed by Sesína’s nausea and vertigo. Whatever Moraggan’s power was, it affected dragons far more than it did humans. 

Falier grabbed Alísa’s hand, his fear shuddering through their skin contact. Slayers pressed in, their anger boring into Alísa. She stepped back, but Falier stopped her. There were slayers behind them now, too. 

R’gan went for his sword. “Then it ends here.”

Barking furiously, Rís leapt from Alísa’s pack. He flew at the chief, eyes and wings aglow. Wide-eyed, R’gan pulled his sword, swinging at the drek. Rís phased through the metal and dove straight through the slayer’s chest. R’gan stiffened, mouth open as though to cry out, but no sound came. 

Heart in her throat, Alísa gripped Falier’s hand. “Shield yourself.”

She reached out to Sesína, latching onto the vertigo coursing through her and shoving it out into the crowd. Slayers put hands to heads and stomachs as her empathy rushed through them. Two men tried to reach her, but collided due to dizziness.

One slayer looked Alísa in the eye as he bent with nausea. The one who had spoken against Moraggan. He stepped aside, leaving a gap. “Go.”

Falier pulled Alísa into a run, Rís coming alongside to dive through another man’s chest. Sesína and Graydonn rushed to aid them, flying low over the village and garnering shouts from frightened normals. A mass of dreki flew alongside them, glowing and raging. 

Graydonn and Sesína skidded into a landing as another pulse hit. Sesína wobbled as she set down, the misstep sending pain through one of her paws and into Alísa. Sesína growled, shaking her head. 

“Get on!”

Dreki shot past Alísa and Falier, Rís joining them as they speared toward Moraggan. Another pulse rocked the astral plane, but it was different this time. Nausea didn’t hit Sesína—instead, the dreki chittered and moaned. The group scattered as another pulse surged, lights blinking in and out as though they could no longer join minds. With Sesína’s help, Alísa reached out to them.

“Fall back! Get out of here!”

Rann—Rís and baby Chrí’s father—sent an image of Sesína and Graydonn flying away with Alísa and Falier on their backs. “Distract!”

“He is right,” Graydonn said, lifting his wings. “Moraggan’s power only affects one species at a time—we need to leave while he’s focused on the dreki.”

Alísa fought back her instincts to protect her clanmates and pulled herself onto Sesína. “Go!”

Without a word, Sesína launched into the sky—pain shooting through her sprained paw as she took off. Graydonn and Falier followed behind, the dragons spearing for where the rest of the clan circled. For a fleeting moment, Alísa considered sending them all to the village to destroy Moraggan. But how many slayers would fall as they fought to defend their new ally? How would such a fight further harm the normals?

No, she couldn’t order an attack.

Alísa looked back, seeing the dreki following behind. She caught a last glimpse of Moraggan and shivered. Despite the distance, she felt his cold gaze. He had won. By pretty words and lying logic, R’gan’s village was his.

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