Silas joined her, the canvas bag slung over a shoulder. His mouth fell open as he watched the slow-motion dance. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. They must be happy.”
Thank you. Many voices echoed in her mind.
You’re welcome. She retrieved the small pouch containing the rings from her pocket, along with a pair of gloves. I believe you have heard of the curse that plagues the Norveshki royal family.
Yes. The Ancient Ones placed a curse on the three sons of the first king, Magnus.
That was five hundred years ago, another tree said. At the end of the Great Dragon War.
So there were two sets of dragons fighting each other? Gwennore asked, her gaze drifting toward Silas, who gave her a wary look.
Yes, one of the Kings replied. The new dragons rebelled against the Ancient Ones. In those days, the sky was filled with fire and the stench of death.
The younger ones were victorious, another King added. The Ancient Ones are no more.
“Are you going to test the rings?” Silas motioned to the pouch in her hands.
Trying to change the subject, she thought as she knelt and slipped on her gloves. She emptied the sack onto the ground. I suspect these three rings are poisonous. Is there a way you can verify that?
Yes.
The ground beneath her shook.
Silas dropped the sack containing the crown on the ground as he crouched beside her. “What’s happening?”
“I’m not sure.” She gasped when the ground close by suddenly heaved up a foot, making a small mound.
The ground split, and the tentacle-like ends of a root emerged, uncurling as if it were a hand opening wide.
Silas sat back. “What the hell?”
Give us the rings.
She placed the three rings on what looked like gnarled wooden fingers.
“Fascinating,” Silas whispered.
You are correct. This is poison.
Gwennore quickly removed the rings. Are you all right? It didn’t hurt you?
We are not easily harmed.
We have been here for centuries.
And we will be here when you have long turned to dust.
Gwennore dropped the rings back into the pouch. Is it the metal that is poisonous?
It is lead. You should bury it in a cave.
We will. Thank you. Gwennore repeated what she’d learned to Silas, since he was unable to hear the trees.
“If the queen held food in her hands, like bread, she could have actually consumed some of the lead over time.”
Silas removed the crown from its canvas bag. “Can they test this?”
We believe the queen’s crown might also be poisonous, Gwennore mentally told the Kings.
A thick root emerged from the ground, and once it was exposed to the air, the end started to roll, curling back onto itself until it formed a large wooden knob the size of a person’s head.
Silas placed the crown on top.
You are correct. This is poison.
More lead. And some mercury.
Someone is poisoning your queen.
Gwennore removed the crown and told Silas, “This is poison. It should never be worn again.”
With a sigh, Silas glanced up to the tops of the redwoods. “I don’t suppose they could be lying.”
“I don’t think so. They have nothing to gain by helping us stay alive. We’re nothing more than a short-lived nuisance to them.” She handed him the crown. “Is there lead in the king’s crown, too?”
“Yes.” He dropped the crown and the pouch of rings back into the sack. “I’ll have to explain all of this to my brother, but I’m not sure he’ll believe me.”
“Why not?”
“He may be reluctant to see the Ancient Ones as villains.”
“But if they knew the crowns were poisonous…”
“I’m sure they did. They were experts at stones and minerals.” He tied the drawstrings on the sack, then rose to his feet. “The original agreement was that they would let Magnus be king as long as he was their puppet and his seven sons worked like slaves in the mines.”
Gwennore stood as she stuffed her gloves back into her pocket. “I heard a bit of that story. Only three of the brothers survived.”
With a snort, Silas motioned to the sack containing the poisoned crown. “I don’t think the Ancient Ones intended any of them to survive.”
He slung the sack over his shoulder as he strode toward the tethered horses. “Will you give my thanks to the redwoods for their help?”
“Of course.” She turned toward the grove of trees. Thank you so much.
The wild ones are approaching.
They have you surrounded.
What? She spun around. “Silas!”
He came to an abrupt halt, automatically dropping the crown and grabbing the hilt of his sword. Several dozen trolls stepped into the clearing and raised their spears.
After a quick glance around, Silas lifted his hands and told them something.
Gwennore fought a surge of panic as she edged toward him. “You—you know their language?”
“A little.” He turned slowly, watching the trolls. “I told them we’ve come in peace.”
“Then why are they still pointing their spears at us? What do they want with us?”
The trolls advanced a step, then another, their circle growing tighter.
She grabbed Silas’s sleeve. “We need to go.”
“If they meant us harm, they would have already thrown their spears.”
“That’s not very reassuring. We need to get out of here!” Puff!
Silas stiffened, and she felt the muscles in his arm grow tense.
Puff. A chill ran down Gwennore’s spine. He wasn’t answering.
Silas grabbed her by the shoulders. “You don’t need him. I will protect you.”
“He won’t come, will he?” Her eyes burned. “He can’t come, because he’s already here.”
Silas hissed in a breath as a flash of gold shot through his eyes. “Don’t say it.” He pressed a finger against her mouth. “Don’t even think it. Put your shield up now.”
She turned away, her eyes filling with tears as she placed one mental brick after another, cutting herself off from him and anyone else who might hear her thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
A tear rolled down her cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me? I asked you over and over to be honest with me.”
He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Rule number four for dating a dragon: Never tell
