He didn’t encounter a single tharuk or slave. It was nearly dawn. Tharuks should’ve been patrolling the valley. About now, slaves would normally be woken for a meager breakfast. This was too easy. What was going on? Was Zens letting him escape?
He half-ran, half-stumbled across the valley, his raw ankle throbbing, his torso a mass of bruises and gashes from Zens’ games. Each step was agony. But he had to get out.
Shards, Ezaara and Adelina. Where were they?
As he picked his way up the burned slope, Roberto recognized the tang of mage fire and the sulphuric stench of dragon flame. What had gone on here? Had dragons saved Ezaara and his sister? He hoped so.
Darkness flickered across his eyes and a wave of inexplicable anger roiled within him.
Where had that come from? He shrugged, stumbling up the hill, covering himself in soot from the charred ground. He’d have to trek halfway across Dragons’ Realm to find someone to take him to Dragons’ Hold. Years ago, Erob had helped him escape, but there’d be no one here to help him now. He hadn’t even asked Ezaara if Erob was still alive.
Oh gods, what if Erob was dead and Ezaara and Adelina too? A hollow ache gnawed inside Roberto as he climbed up the blackened mountainside.
Dragons’ Hold
The main cavern rippled with rumor, people arguing, pointing and whispering. Lars could taste the tension. Septimor landed on the stage in front of the council masters and their dragons, furling his wings. Seppi helped Sofia dismount amid boos, jeers and discordant cheering.
“Creating quite a stir, isn’t she?” Lars muttered to Tonio.
“To be expected under the circumstances,” Tonio replied, keen eyes flitting around the cavern. “I’m interested to see how this plays out.” He gave a subtle flick of his fingers, and several blue guards and dragon corps members moved among the crowd to stand near the most vocal objectors.
Seppi blew a horn for silence, then brought Sofia before Lars.
Lars smiled encouragingly at Sofia. He’d been pleased with her progress since Marlies had extracted the crystal. The council was keeping the crystals quiet until everyone had been checked for the silent pox—Marlies’ fabricated excuse for examining their skin. Over the past four days, the master healer had checked more than a hundred people, but there were many more. Horrified at the effect Zens’ crystal had worked on her, Sofia had been helping—under close supervision.
This was going to be a tough session. “Good evening,” Lars addressed the restless crowd. “We’re here to discuss how Anakisha’s prophecy relates—”
“We want justice,” someone called. “Sofia attacked the Queen’s Rider.”
“Ezaara’s not the right Queen’s Rider,” someone else called.
Angry yelling broke out.
Lars raised his hand. Seppi had to blow the horn three times before the shouts died down.
“Zens would be laughing at your bickering factions,” boomed Lars, thunder in his chest. “He’d love to see us ripping each other’s heads off. With discord in our ranks, we could never face him in unity in war. And war is coming. Zens is moving against us.”
“That shut them all up,” Singlar melded.
“Sofia will be tried, but not tonight. Today, our master of prophecy, Hans, will put these malicious claims that Ezaara is not our rightful Queen’s Rider to rest. Sofia will explain her views of Anakisha’s prophecy. I ask for respectful silence as each speaks. Anyone disobeying will overnight in the cage.” Lars jabbed a finger at the audience. “And I don’t care whether I have to stack you to the ceiling. The more the merrier. I will not have disunity in this meeting.”
There were a few grumbles and a lot of nodding heads—better than he’d expected. “First Sofia, then Hans.” Lars motioned Sofia forward.
“Thank you for the opportunity to speak,” Sofia nodded at Lars. “I apologize for my actions. I will pay for my crimes.”
Surprised murmurs broke out.
“Lars has asked me to recite Anakisha’s prophecy and explain why I feel it hasn’t been fulfilled.
“One of our progeny will reign in our stead
Filling our enemies’ foul hearts with dread
Purging all evil will be his desire
Vengeance he’ll wage with arrows of fire.
“This prophecy indicates that the Queen’s Rider should not only be Anakisha’s heir, but also male. Ezaara is neither. I must confess, I’ve had a vested interest. My cousin is Anakisha’s heir. He was taken to Death Valley two years ago. I’d hoped he’d become Queen’s Rider, but …” Eyes bright with tears, Sofia swallowed. “He may not have survived. Tonight, I would like to pay tribute to Rhun of Waykeep, son of Rhun senior and Maria-Anakisha, Anakisha’s daughter. Rhun senior is my uncle by blood.”
Near the middle of the crowd, people as a group made their way to the front. Who were they? Murmurs grew.
Gret, Lovina and the young slave boy walked up to the stage.
“Permission to speak, Lars,” Gret asked, clutching the boy and Lovina’s hands.
Lars nodded. “Permission granted.”
Gret addressed Sofia. “Taliesin says he’s your cousin.”
Of all the sharding things. Lars’ felt his eyebrows shoot up in amazement. The lad was Sofia’s cousin? Then they were related, too, by marriage.
Sofia flung her arms around the thin boy, tears falling on his shoulders as she hugged him. “Rhun, is that you? You’re so thin.”
Gret spoke to the crowd. “We know him as Taliesin, but his full name is Rhun Taliesin of Waykeep.”
People cheered.
“Wait, there’s more,” Gret called. The cheering stilled, and silent expectation surged through the cavern.
Lovina cleared her throat, and Gret gently nudged her toward Lars.
“Yes, Lovina?” Lars asked the shy girl.
“Ah, Lars,
