Warriors of Wind and Ash (Merciless Dragons #2)

“Things can change,” Meridian replies. “My band will bow to the wishes of the people. If they want Serylla on the throne, I won’t object, though it’s not my preferred form of government. In fact my preferred form of government is no government at all. I’ll admit anarchy rarely works well in practice, but still… a fellow can dream.” He gives Hinarax another pat, on the cheek this time. “What do you say? Will you let me be your guide into the palace?”

“By your own admission, you’re a thief and a rogue,” I say. “Untrustworthy.”

“Thief, pickpocket, highwayman, locksmith, juggler, and yes… I’ll answer to rogue. Go on.”

“How will someone like you gain admission to the palace?”

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of it! Remember the pirates I spoke of? They told me that one of the Southern Kingdoms, Zairos, is sending its seventh prince to meet with Rahzien, to officially acknowledge his conquest of Elekstan and recognize him as its new ruler. But the prince’s ship was attacked, looted, and sunk by the pirates, and the prince drowned. No one in Elekstan knows this yet, so we have a small window in which to act.”

“To act?” I narrow my eyes.

“After the conquest, the Capital was locked down,” says Meridian. “Getting inside takes certified permits, which citizens can only obtain from one of Vohrain’s census stations, and only if they’re a verified resident or tradesperson. We’ve been harassing Vohrain very effectively throughout the countryside, but our access to the Capital is limited, which means finding the Princess isn’t as simple as sending in a few spies. So we have to go bigger.”

“How big?” For once, Hinarax sounds apprehensive.

“Diplomatic papers are easier to forge than the official stamped permits the locals have to procure,” Meridian explains. “You with the black hair—you look remarkably like the seventh prince of Zairos—and I know that because one of the pirates snagged the prince’s portrait from his royal cabin before they scuttled the vessel. They’re using the portrait for dart practice in the galley aboard the pirate ship. Good times.”

He sighs with dramatic wistfulness, then continues. “You’ll pretend to be the Southern prince, while your friend here acts as your esquire, your most trusted servant. I’ll play the part of your attendant and entertainer. A few friends of mine can act as your guards, and together we’ll be welcomed into the palace.”

“You told us we can barely pass as human, and now you’re suggesting we masquerade as foreign dignitaries?” I say coldly. “You’re a fool.”

“Don’t mind him,” Hinarax says. “He’s been through a lot, and he’s suffering because he’s in love with the Princess.”

My only answer is a threatening snarl.

“How absolutely charming,” says Meridian. “A dragon in love with a princess. Rather poetic, that. What about you, handsome?” He surveys Hinarax. “What’s your preferred flavor? He? She? They? All?”

Hinarax arches his bronze neck, then slides his slender muzzle past Meridian’s cheek, letting his tongue glide along the rogue’s jaw.

“So that’s how it is.” Meridian chuckles, a little breathless.

“Don’t mind him, either,” I comment. “We’re at the end of our mating season, and he’s still a bit randy.”

“Indeed.” There’s a gleam in the rogue’s eye as he touches the place on his jaw where Hinarax licked him. “Well… back to business. If you agree to this plan, we should set off for the Capital at once. My people have a hideout in the mountains north of the city—a network of caves.”

“Caves?” My interest perks.

“Indeed. Some of the chambers are quite large, big enough to accommodate a dragon. You say you can remain human for about eight hours at a time?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We’ll use that time to teach you some courtly manners. Since you’re pretending to be from the Southern Kingdoms, they’ll overlook a few differences in your speech or behavior, but complete ignorance like the kind you displayed in the market will not be excused.”

“Understood.” I arch my wings. “If you’re coming with us, you’ll have to ride Hinarax. The Princess is the only one who rides me.”

“I’ll bet she does,” murmurs the rogue.

I ignore his comment. “The clouds are low tonight. We’ll fly above them to escape notice. It will be cold.”

“I can endure it,” Meridian assures me cheerfully. “This leg of mine wasn’t damaged in the war—it’s been my companion since childhood. Discomfort is an old friend.”

His plucky attitude enhances my opinion of him. As he said, our interests are currently aligned, and it’s plain that Hinarax and I need help. The bits of human culture Hinarax gleaned from watching the Vohrainian soldiers was clearly insufficient for this mission. I realize that now.

“Onward, then,” I say.

Once Meridian has mounted Hinarax, I extend my wings. It’s a struggle to take off in such a small clearing, but I manage it, clumsily. I head straight for the cloud cover, darting through the gray, misty mass and hovering just above it while I wait for Hinarax and his passenger.

The Rib Moon was days ago, and the moon is waxing again, slowly. As its faint light shimmers on my scales, I think of Varex—of the ragged wound in his throat, and his odd behavior. He wasn’t himself when I left him in charge of Ouroskelle, yet I abandoned him to deal with a clan of dragons fresh from the mating frenzy, not to mention a bunch of hungry human captives, some of whom were carrying eggs or had recently birthed them. He will have to assign dragons to help with the island cleanup and the disposal of storm debris. He’ll grieve with the clan over the three lives lost, and collect bone-tribute from the dragon who drowned with his two women. He’ll check on my offspring from time to time, and he’ll lead the first hunting party to the Middenwold Isles, without me.