“Gret, thank you for coming.” His voice rumbled through her mind. “With Roberto gone, someone must protect the Queen’s Rider. Are you up for this task?”
“Of course, but why me?”
“I can trust you. Ezaara trusts you. You’re fast with a sword and nimble on your feet, and you’re young—you can keep vigil overnight without dozing off.” He showed her a vision of a secret alcove near Ezaara’s cavern. “Hide here. Be vigilant. There are some at Dragons’ Hold who would do Ezaara harm.”
“I’ll be vigilant. I owe it to my queen and Ezaara.” Gret’s heart swelled with pride. A royal dragon, no less, respected her swordsmanship.
“Thank you.” Erob flapped his wings, sending the stray hair on Gret’s forehead wafting in the breeze, then he was airborne.
Gret flicked her braid over her shoulder. Should she trust Erob? If Roberto was really a traitor, couldn’t his dragon be traitorous too? She shook her head. No, Erob would never betray his mother, Zaarusha, and the realm. And despite what everyone was saying, neither would Roberto. Something strange was going on.
After careful inspection, she found the hidden alcove in the corridor opposite the door to Ezaara’s cavern. Deep in shadow, a lip of rock obscured the entrance. She hid inside, starting her vigil.
Hours later, after midnight but still a while before dawn—the worst part of night watch—Gret stretched wearily, easing a kink in her neck. It was cramped in here. She didn’t dare stamp, and there wasn’t room to walk. She blinked and shifted her weight from foot to foot. So much for Erob’s vigilance of the young.
A faint scrape on rock jerked Gret awake. There it was again. Moving her weight forward, she placed her eye against a spy hole. Someone was around the corner. Gret eased her knife from its sheath. Heart pounding, she waited.
A shadow flickered. Simeon crept down the tunnel, glancing furtively over his shoulder.
She should have known. That shrotty weasel had forced himself upon her best friend, Trixia, but no one had believed her—not with Simeon’s parents, the highly-esteemed council masters, accounting for his whereabouts. Everybody had assumed Trixia’s betrothed, Donal, had fathered the littling. Fleur and Bruno had insisted that Trixia be banished for tainting their son’s name, but Lars had sent Trixia and Donal both back to Montanara. Trixia had lost her lifelong dream of becoming a dragon rider.
That rat—no, that tick on the backside of a rat—was nearly at Ezaara’s door.
Simeon peered through Ezaara’s keyhole.
Now was her chance. Gret slipped out of the alcove. Approaching Simeon from behind, she grabbed his hair in her fist, and held her knife to his neck. “This stops right here, rat.”
Simeon froze.
“Stand up. Slowly.” She gripped his hair, keeping her knife at his throat, and marched him toward Lars’ chamber.
§
Lydia had been asleep for hours, but Lars hadn’t touched his pillow. Pacing in front of the fire, he rubbed his shoulder, trying to ease a stubborn knot. It was crazy, he’d trusted Roberto, but now he’d admitted he was a traitor. It felt wrong. Everything was off. But he was already gone to the Wastelands.
And Tonio was like a dog, yapping at his heels, determined to believe Roberto was evil. What if Tonio was wrong? There wasn’t anyone else with Roberto’s skills. Who would now test their imprinting bonds? Who would now ensure dragon riders were trained to withstand tharuk mind-benders?
There was scuffling outside his door. Lars strode over and flung it open.
Gret was outside, her knife at Simeon’s throat. Eyes shining in the torchlight, she announced, “I’ve brought you a traitor.”
Another one?
A trickle of blood rolled down Simeon’s neck.
“Gret, stop! What are you doing?”
“I caught Simeon sneaking up to the Queen’s Rider’s cavern.” Gret kept her knife at Simeon’s throat.
“Come in, both of you.” Lars waved his hand. “Down with the knife, Gret.” He turned to Simeon. “It’s the middle of the night. What were you doing near the Queen’s Rider’s cavern?”
Simeon’s voice was smooth. “Master Lars, I was concerned for the Queen’s Rider’s health. There’s talk that a rogue dragon wanted to burn her. I had a nightmare that she’d died, so I wanted to reassure myself that she was all right.”
Gret snorted.
Lars had heard too many rumors to believe everything Simeon said. He turned to Gret. “Your opinion?”
“Like I said, he was sneaking around. It’s not the first time he’s wanted to harm—”
“I was only looking through the keyhole,” Simeon interrupted, “to make sure she wasn’t harmed.”
“Liar. You were figuring out how to sneak in,” Gret snapped, eyes fiery.
Simeon rubbed the scratch on his neck.
“Gret,” asked Lars, “what did you actually see?”
“Ah, I—” She scuffed her boot on the stone floor. “He was acting sneaky, skulking along the corridors and peering through the keyhole—”
“And you?” barked Simeon. “Hiding in the shadows of the Queen’s Rider’s corridor, late at night? What were you doing?”
“Waiting for you,” Gret snapped. “You’re more trouble than a rat’s nest.”
Lars’ instincts aligned with Gret’s, but he had to have proof. “Simeon,” Lars said, thinking fast, “turn out your pockets.” Hopefully they could pin something on him this time.
Only healing salve. Not a weapon on him. That made sense, he was a healer’s son. But something about this was wrong. If his parents weren’t dragon masters, he wouldn’t have believed him—about Trixia, or tonight.
Lars ran a hand through his hair. “Simeon, this is a warning. If you’re caught near the Queen’s Rider’s cavern alone again at night, you will face trial and possible banishment. This is not your first warning.”
That business with Trixia had never been resolved to Lars’ satisfaction, but with two council members vouching for Simeon, there hadn’t been much he could do. “Simeon, go straight to your quarters. Gret,
