What a price for an innocent mistake. His breath whooshed from his chest.
Several clear stones were scattered on the grass. He grabbed them, rubbing their smooth oval surfaces and pointed ends. Zaarusha had left him calling stones.
Twigs cracked and leaves rustled. Someone was coming.
Hastily, Hans pocketed the stones, mentally cursing the silly tales of dragons carrying off young maidens, made up years ago to keep young girls close to home. Such stupid tales might help folk guess what had happened.
Marlies broke into the clearing, breathing hard. “Hans! Where are the children? Tomaaz? Ezaara? Are they all right?”
“Zaarusha came. Ezaara’s gone.”
“No!” Marlies whispered, her face hollow. “My baby!”
Nearly seventeen, Ezaara was hardly a baby, but Hans felt the same—Zaarusha had raided their nest. “There may be hope yet. Zaarusha wants us to contact her.” He showed Marlies a calling stone.
Marlies recoiled. “Contact her?”
Hans gripped her arm. “It may be our only chance of seeing Ezaara again.”
Her breath shuddered. “Oh, Hans, what have I done? It’s my fault. If only I hadn’t touched her dragonet’s egg …” She sagged against him.
Hans cocooned her in his arms. “You didn’t know. It was an innocent mistake.”
Marlies’ turquoise eyes were heavy with tears. “I’ll fix this. I have to. Please, pass me the stone.”
“Don’t be afraid.” Hans tried to comfort her, in vain. If only he could stop his own heart from hammering like a battle drum.
§
Afraid? Marlies shivered. That didn’t even start to describe the emotions rushing through her. She could still hear the dragon queen’s shriek when Zaarusha had discovered her dead dragonet. Her roars had shaken the mountainside, setting off avalanches. Only the billowing clouds of snow had prevented Marlies and Hans being spotted as they’d fled Dragons’ Hold on Liesar’s back.
She couldn’t guess what sort of punishment Zaarusha had given Liesar for helping them flee.
“Marlies.” Hans’ voice was urgent. “Quick, use the stone before Zaarusha’s out of range.”
Taking the stone from Hans, Marlies rubbed the flat surface. She gritted her teeth, straining to hold Zaarusha’s face in her mind—a face she’d spent years trying to forget. A face that had stalked her nightmares.
Hans grasped Marlies’ shoulder and mind-melded with her, giving her strength.
Even the breeze seemed to hold its breath as colors swirled across the crystal’s surface. A shape formed—Zaarusha. Golden eyes regarded Marlies.
The pounding in her chest was so fierce, she was sure the dragon queen could hear it. Nearly eighteen years they’d hidden, burying their sorrow, and rejoicing in the lives of their children. Marlies dipped her head in a bow. “My Queen.”
“Am I?” Zaarusha’s voice rumbled through Marlies’ mind like boulders shifting in a flooded river.
Marlies remembered the purple dragonet crooning to her, singing—then suddenly lifeless and dead, floating in its translucent shell. Pain stabbed at her. Her own pain? Or was she feeling Zaarusha’s?
It made no difference; the royal dragonet was gone. Marlies fell to her knees, still clutching the calling stone. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” Zaarusha rumbled. “Sorry my baby died.”
“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to—”
“An accident that blessed you with fertility.”
Marlies’ throat tightened. “I—I didn’t know. I—” Her tears fell onto the crystal, blurring Zaarusha’s image.
“You fled—that was an act of cowardice.”
She nodded. Zaarusha was right. Terrified of facing the dragon queen, she’d run, dragging Hans with her. “I was horrified at what I’d done.”
“Yes, you killed my baby.”
Her crime was out in the open, stark and raw. “So, now I must pay for my cowardice.” Swallowing the lump that threatened to choke her, Marlies whispered, “And that price is my daughter ….”
“No, your daughter is not a price. I need your bravery.”
What sort of answer was that? “I understand, Zaarusha. You want Ezaara. Your baby for my daughter.”
“No. It’s Ezaara’s destiny to be Queen’s Rider. My dragonet blessed you with fertility in its dying moments and gifted Ezaara with special talents. Being Queen’s Rider is her right, not a payment.”
“I don’t understand …”
“I need you, Marlies. My son is captive, held by Zens in Death Valley. Zens’ tharuks are making inroads into the realm as we speak. I can’t leave to save my son and I can’t spare Tonio—the only other spy I’d trust to rescue him. Save my son, and I will forgive your recklessness.”
Marlies held her breath. “And if I fail?”
“I hope you won’t.”
Marlies swallowed. If she failed, she’d be dead—murdered by Zens or his tharuks.
Her heart ached for Zaarusha. She’d not only lost her dragonet, she’d now lost a fully-grown son. Perhaps she could ease Zaarusha’s pain—and her own. After all these years, the dragonet’s blood still made her palms itch. Although nothing would ever cleanse her hands, she could do this. She’d slink into Death Valley and free Zaarusha’s son, saving a royal dragon—and perhaps some slaves with him.
Still mind-melded with Hans, she sensed his alarm. “I’ll do it, Zaarusha. Please, tell me everything I need to know.”
Via the calling stone, Zaarusha shared an image with Marlies and Hans: a narrow mountainside pass winding down into an eerie mist-shrouded valley. Devoid of vegetation, the chasm looked as if it was waiting to swallow Marlies, to suck away her life. Marlies’ stomach curled in on itself. “I don’t know this place.”
“It’s Death Valley.”
Hans’ shocked eyes met Marlies’. “It’s changed,” he mind-melded, “but so have we in the last eighteen years.”
“I’m nearly out of range,” Zaarusha said. “Marlies, do you accept this responsibility?”
“Yes, I do.” The weight lifted from Marlies’ shoulders, but another settled in its place—this task was no easy stroll through a flower-strewn meadow.
“Please, Marlies, return my son to me.” The image grew blurry and Zaarusha’s
