My heart drops. Adom sets me down and wraps his cloak around me. He rips the hem of his cloak and ties it around my bleeding hand. His words keep me frozen to the spot.
He thinks I’m his property. I should run before he destroys me the way he destroyed those men. How many innocents did he kill, all for the sake of the herd? I should flee before I become his next nameless victim. But my knees are quaking like jelly, and I’m terrified of things I do not understand. I do not belong here. I do not have a home here. Nobody cares about me in this cold, dark place. He drags me onto the horse, positioned in front of him.
“Are you going to kill me, too?”
Adom’s eyes glitter as he gazes at me. “You’ve been more of a burden than a help. We’re going back to Onyx.”
I draw a sharp intake of breath. “But what about Ona? Won’t he try to kill me?”
Adom’s shoulder muscles flex against my forehead. “You had a chance to live.”
“Oh, why don’t you just kill me now and get it over with?” I murmur, too tired to argue.
He doesn’t reply.
Adom tugs at the horse’s reins when we reach the steps leading to the entrance of the Volcourt Inn. The animal stops abruptly, quick to respond, almost as though it senses its rider’s dark mood. Footmen scramble to help me dismount and before I know it, the stable hand is already leading the steed away. I steal a glance at Adom, but he is all brimstone and fire.
“I’ll only be a minute,” he informs the stable hand. To me, he says, “Go get your things.”
I obey, frightened by the tight tone of his voice. I lift my skirts and run through fine corridors, Adom looming darkly behind me, until at last I burst into the well-lit room. It takes a moment to reorient myself. I have been up most of the night, cramped and suffering the after effects of too much alcohol. Now my head pounds and my legs and ankles throb from ill use.
Perusing the room, I swallow regret rising in my throat like vomit. I take in all my eyes can hold of the finest establishment I will ever see again. Even Fifi, who rests in the exact place I left her, looks perfectly at ease on the plush pillow covering the otherwise bare bed. I stuff her in my ragged satchel with finality. On the floor next to the window sits a pile of shredded linens, my escape ladder. I can just imagine Adom storming into the room, discovering my absence, and flying to the window to find the trail of damaged bedsheets. I can see him pulling the rope up slowly, eyes blackening with every angry tug, muttering curses into the cold night air.
Hair on the back of my neck pricks with sudden awareness. Two round, bright orbs peek over the edge of the dresser. Large brown eyes, full of some haunted memory. They blink, and I spot one glistening tear trickle onto a pale, translucent cheek.
“Who’s there?”
“Me. Nathaniel.” A little boy creeps from his hiding place. His cheeks are wan, and his body thin from malnourishment. “You’re not another dragon, are you?”
My heart stops short. “No,” I reply. “I’m just a woman.”
“Good.” The boy rubs his ashen visage with sooty hands, and his lower lip trembles.
Years of hardened self-absorption crumble away. I hug him close.
“Dragons,” he sniffles. “Mama and Papa…” Sobs wrack his entire body.
“I’m so… sorry,” I whisper.
As I stroke hair away from his forehead, guilt demolishes me. My fault. I helped the dragons. All these years. I cooked and cleaned for Adom. But it isn’t just Muuth and I who suffered. He destroyed whole families because I never had the spine to show him we humans are more than rats. This poor boy is another product of Adom’s destruction, because no one dared to stand up to him. Adom killed children. I have no excuse for my years of self-preservation.
The door opens. A chill trickles into the room as the beast himself enters in his lurking human form. Does he mean to consume us both? Me for dinner and the child for dessert?
His eyes narrow when he sees my arms tucked around Nathaniel. “Leave the boy.”
I hold fast. My knuckles turn white with exertion. “No. You’re no better than those monsters who wanted to sell me to the highest bidder. You leave him, leave us alone.”
Adom springs across the room and takes hold of my shoulders. “Let him go.”
With an easy step, I slide between the child and the changeling.
Adom drops to one knee. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers to the boy. “I’m leaving with this woman, and I’ll be back in the morning. Just try to get some sleep.” Then he rises, grabs my arm, and pulls me out of the room without giving me a chance to say goodbye. The boy gazes mournfully after us. Adom pauses only to lock the door behind us.
“You’d left the door unlocked before. Why imprison him now?” I mutter.
If his expression could poison, I’d be dead in an instant. “I’m only locking the door now because you’ve managed to terrify him the way no dragon scorching could have.”
His words take me aback. “If you hurt him, I’ll kill you.”
Adom doesn’t speak. Instead he storms out of the inn, breezing past serving maids and proprietor alike with the air of a pompous, irritated lord. Outside, the horse whinnies. The stable hand hurries to remove the feeding bag. Adom produces a carrot and allows the creature a moment to enjoy the small luxury before he places his foot in the stirrup to gracefully swing up over the animal’s back. I climb behind him without any assistance, clutching my satchel.
With two precise kicks to the animal’s flank, Adom’s horse gallops fast through the city. Buildings whirl by. Just above them, the sun creeps up in vibrant hues of reds and gold. People begin emerging from little stone houses, and signs appear on store windows announcing the business day. Market vendors stock their stalls with goods preparing for the busy day ahead. No one seems to sense the coming danger I grasp so tangibly in my arms.
At last we reach the gate. A line has already formed in front of us.
“There wasn’t a line here earlier,” I whisper, shivering. I’m still wearing his cloak to hide the blood and beet stains that will surely attract attention, but the long fabric has slipped off my legs and I’m too cold to move my arms away from the radiating warm of my chest to fix it.
Adom adjusts the cloak so it covers my legs, probably because he notices the stains on my dress and doesn’t want any questions. “We arrived before curfew.”
Soon our turn comes to greet the gatekeeper. “Next.”
“Count Malandre and his ward. We’re on urgent business for the king.”
Again, the lie. I wince as the gatekeeper comes nearer. He wears a blue uniform and seems exceedingly proud of all his many badges. “Show me your document,” the man demands strutting closer to get a better look at our faces.
Adom produces the letter I glimpsed earlier. I gape. Is he mad? He can’t give it to the gatekeeper! That letter contains incriminating evidence. I almost speak out. But if the man discovers Adom’s plot right now, I’ll be sent to prison for aiding him. That is, if Adom doesn’t change and murder us all. I say nothing, and pray the man won’t discover our terrible secret. The guard takes the document and studies the orange seal. He seems to recognize it, but doesn’t open or read the letter. After a moment, he seems satisfied.
“All right, then.” He nods. “Go on through.”
Adom accepts the letter and nudges the horse’s flanks. We surge forward.
How did he know the seal would let us through? It must be someone important. That explains why he insists on the pretense of a lord. I shudder as the horse clips through the gate.
Adom doesn’t seem to notice my anxiety. Once outside, he urges the horse to gallop again. We ride over several large hills. The city of Foghum fades into the distance. Was it all just a glorious memory? I squint at the distance, hoping for one last glimpse of my freedom.
He slows the horse to a trot. I stiffen. We’re in the middl
e of nowhere. Why here?
At last we stop. He dismounts and pulls me roughly down with him. “Let’s go.”
We move toward a grove of trees. Dread sits in my stomach like a cold, hard stone. It weighs me to such a degree my legs become heavy boulders. In an effort to regain feeling in my body, I struggle against him. “I can walk by myself.”
Adom releases me so abruptly I fall backward and tumble onto the ground. “Fine.” He balls his fingers into a fist then stares at his hand. He spins away and proceeds toward the trees.
I fix my eyes on his back, horrified. So this is it? He’ll kill me here, in the middle of the country where no one will ever find my remains? I always envisioned dying on Onyx. At least there Muuth can bury me. “Adom, wait!”
“There’s no time,” he insists, his voice cold and steely.
A breeze blows through the valley, gently tossing his hair so he doesn’t look so wild or frightening anymore. The warmth of the breeze also seems to have a calming effect on his soul. Sad eyes gaze at the horizon, blocked from my view in part by intense, furrowing eyebrows.
“I never properly thanked you for helping me escape from those men,” I offer.
His eyes soften. “They left a message for me at the Volcourt Inn, so I followed the instructions and made them suffer. I knew you would be in the midst of saving yourself, and thought only to keep them occupied. You didn’t need me there.” Adom exhales loudly and returns to me. He extends a hand. “Do you think I want to see you dead, Elanor?”
“You’ve said as much,” I point out, refusing his help as I rise. “You killed those men. You killed my family. Hundreds of people have perished by your scorchings.” I can’t control the shaking that takes hold of my body. It frustrates me to show him my weakness.
Adom says nothing at first. Then, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you that what you thought you saw that day was a lie. I had nothing do so with those villages that burned.”
“If that’s the truth, why haven’t you said it before? You say you have nothing to do with the scorchings, but—” I stop myself before I blurt out your letter tells me otherwise. “—But there is a mountain of treasure in your cave that belongs to someone else. Where did it come from?”
“There’s an explanation for that.”
“And what’s the explanation for the little boy crying about his murdered parents at the Volcourt Inn? And why were you the first dragon I laid eyes on after my parents died? And why the hell did you keep me as your prisoner on Onyx for twelve years?”
“I can’t answer all your questions, Elanor. But I do care about your well-being.”
“Hogwash,” I say. “You say you care? Then free me.”
“I can’t.” His voice sounds hollow. “I still need you.”
“Ah. I see it now. You need me. Not the dragons. You could free me if you wanted to. But you won’t because you think I have a part to play. You think I am relevant somehow.”
“You are relevant,” he answers.
“And you care.”
“I do care. More than you know.”
“How sweet. Then I suppose I must forgive you.”
“Elanor, be serious.”
“I’ll tell the truth, Adom, even though you never do me the same courtesy. I don’t respect you. I don’t like you. I don’t care about you, and I certainly don’t believe you. I despise you, and someday soon I am going to kill you. Is that serious enough for you?”
His eyes darken to shimmering bolts of red. “I suppose it is for the best.” He turns. “Now come with me.”
FIVE
The Mountain
I follow him to the nearby forest. Neither of us speak; Adom because of the dark mood encompassing him, and myself because nothing I say will help my position. The forest thickens around us, huge trunks twisting from the ground as if to suffocate us. It puts me in mind of the two kidnappers whose massive hands roughed me up only hours ago.
When we find ourselves behind a dense copse of trees, Adom strips, folds his clothes and places them beneath a bush. He crouches on all fours. His body contorts, his back arches, and his face elongates into a snout. When he has fully changed, I climb onto his back, hiking ample skirts to my thighs.
He leaps into the dawn sky and spreads his wings wide, the morning sun shining through the translucent skin. With one flap of those membranous limbs, we fly beyond the city of Foghum, with another we sail past more cottages and houses. Now we pass new hills and valleys.
My heart pounds, an intoxication that renews with every powerful pump of Adom’s massive wings. Wind lifts hair away from my neck. I raise a hand away from Adom’s mane, careful to clutch him tighter with the other. Air flows between outspread fingers. I laugh aloud. Then a song—a soulful tune Mama once sang—comes to me:
“Beauty never looks as sweet as when I dance on merry feet
And run t’ward where the Falls divide to douse myself of years of pride.
Oh tell a tale, my rosy maid, of dragons and the games they played
And I will hear with all my ear and not the half I used to hear.
All knowing, I alone may stand, to guard the mystery of thy land,
And on the Skylark Mount I dive, a Dragon Woman come alive.”
As I sing, my mother’s voice rings out loud amidst the roar of the wind, the first time I’ve heard it since my capture. A strange twist of fate it should be on a dragon’s back. The words of my mother’s lullaby seem to speak of happier days, when man and beast understood one another. Days before Kainan, and the war that took place between humanity and the stone soldiers.
A low hum resonates beneath me. Adom sings, too, a deep rumble. Muuth told me dragons only sang in the sky so no one else can hear their wretched voices. He’s wrong about this one thing. Adom’s voice is dark and haunting and his song, mournful. My gooseflesh rises.
“Adom,” I whisper so he can’t hear. “Your song is beautiful.”
In another moment, we sail over the Forest of Four. Adom flaps his wings once more and we descend into the mountain, the central cave below us now. My fingers slip, and I lose grip on his mane. Heart dropping, we plummet uncontrollably to the ground.
My whole body shifts forward, swinging helpless against the momentum Adom’s body creates as he spirals downward. Dragons shuffle aside as we land.
Somehow, Adom’s solid form catches my fall as ground rises to meet us. We’re no longer moving, but the cave swims in circles above my head. My ears throb with the cold chill of the night sky. I can hear the grumblings of the other dragons as they creep back to their spots, surrounding us. They don’t look happy to see me. Adom tilts his head toward me.
“Go to a safe place,” he says. “I need to speak with Ona.”
There remains no trace of the pensive concern from before. I bristle at the commanding tone, but decide now isn’t the time to start an argument. Instead, I slide down his side and hurry out of the cave careful to avoid eye contact with the other dragons. Ona’s sharp nails scratch the ground as I pass. Don’t let them hurt me, Adom. As the thought passes, I curse myself. When had I come to depend on Adom’s good will for my survival?
I race to my cave and settle on a bed of crunchy leaves in misery, certain I missed my one chance of escape. Adom will probably return to the mainland right away. Part of me wants to believe the things he told me in Trana. I can guess which bits ring true. Other changeling dragons are out there. But in spite of his protests, he killed my family. He murdered and lied about it, just like he lied about having nothing to do with the dragon scorchings.
Claron is gone. Decimated by the dragon scorchings. I made contact with Leviathan and Cinderrider... That’s what the letter said. He wanted to “strengthen the herd.” What better way than to take out as many Tranar towns as possible?
Down the hall, someone chants an obscure rhyme in a singsong voice I k
now all too well. Muuth hobbles to his usual spot, a wide grin on his mottled visage. “Back already, are you?” he asks obviously pleased with this development.
I throw my arms around him. “I missed you too much to stay away for long.”
“He cut your hair.” He tilts his head and laughs. “Adom didn’t kill you, at least.” He wipes excess moisture from his eyes and peers at me, studying the changes in my appearance. “Although it sounds like someone is dying in the Central Cave right now.”
My heart quickens. I tilt my ears to listen. Fire and howls bounce off the walls. Ona? Or is it a challenge? Adom is challenged by one of the younger males from time to time. I shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t bother me. Except I can’t shake the dark suspicion that it all has to do with me.
“Adom didn’t kill me,” I say slowly. “But I wish he had. Then I wouldn’t have to bear the burden.”
The sounds subside, and I breathe a little bit easier.
Muuth sobers, searching my face. He finally asks the obvious: “What burden?”
I exhale, lowering my voice so the echo will not carry through to the other caves. “Muuth, I think Adom plans to start a war with the king’s army. I think he’s building the herd to that end. He intends to bring more changelings to Onyx to strengthen his numbers.”
His brow furrows and he scratches his patch of hair so aggressively pieces of scalp begin flaking off, revealing more diseased skin underneath. “I don’t think Adom would do that.”
After all he ever said about Adom, his doubt shocks me. “I’ve found evidence.”
He looks uncertain. “I’ve watched the lad grow. Scorchings are one thing. There’s good plunder to be had from scorching. But what would he stand to gain with war?”
“The respect of the herd,” I respond in an instant. “Adom confessed his one weakness to me—his humanity. The herd scorned him for it. What better way to prove his strength?”
Muuth’s eyes widen. “And what if you’re right, lass? What will you do?”
I frown. “Adom brought me back because I tried to escape when I suspected the truth. But before I could find my way through the city to warn King Siles, men captured me, and then Adom found me again.” I frown. “There’s something I need to ask you.”
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