We reach the side tunnel and I slow, straining to listen. Then I ask the others to wait, including Jacko. The jackalope chitters softly, and I nod and motion for him to stay at my feet. That satisfies him, and we move into the side passage.
From beyond the passage come the sounds I’d heard earlier. The rumble that I’d mistaken for thunder or shifting ground. The birdlike noises I’d mistaken for wyvern cries. The former comes from the dragon mother as she communicates with her young, who respond with those high-pitched bird noises. The sounds are calm, though. She has her egg back, and things have returned to normal. And Dain?
I swallow and take another step before I can peek out. We’re on the opposite side from where the mother dragon rests, near the eggs and burbling pool. Moonlight fills the cavern, letting me see. This is a smaller room, scattered with bones and debris and what looks like sleeping areas. The juveniles’ bedroom and play area, the space too small for their mother. I don’t see either young dragon here, though. They’re with her in the nursery.
I take one more step, and moonlight brightens the room as it flows through the cavern opening. I see more debris and—
My breath catches.
I see Dain.
He lies off to the side, curled up on the floor. I see him, and my heart stops.
He isn’t moving.
He’s lying there, clutching Dez against his stomach, and neither of them is moving. The dragon killed them. She got her egg back—
Dain’s chest rises. I stare at one spot on his chest, completely focused on it to be certain of what I’m seeing.
He’s asleep. They both are, the dropbear’s chest also rising and falling as she breathes.
The dragon didn’t give them time to escape. She put them down and breathed on them, putting them to sleep so they didn’t distract from her main goal: recovering her egg.
Now she’s got that, she’s tending to it, making sure it’s still viable, the baby inside still alive. Once she’s certain, she’ll deal with the supposed thief. She’ll deal with Dain.
I just need to wake him. Slip in there, while she’s busy on the other side, and—
Claws scrape rock. A shadow moves through the moonlight, and I shrink back. Then I peek again. One of the juveniles is making its way toward Dain.
I pull out my sword. As much as I don’t want to hurt the young dragon, Dain is unconscious and defenseless.
I adjust my grip and watch the juvenile’s slow approach. It’s curious. Maybe it’ll wake Dain. That would be perfect. Dain wakes up, and I can call to him. It would be safe. The mother dragon can’t get into this tunnel. Call him here, and we can flee.
The young dragon stops near Dain, reaches out its long neck and sniffs him. Then it opens and closes its mouth, and I tense, seeing those serrated teeth, but the beast doesn’t seem to be preparing to bite him. I can’t tell what it’s doing, and then I figure it out, and I almost laugh.
It’s trying to sedate him. To use its narcoleptic breath to be completely certain he’s unconscious. Of course, it’s far too young for that, and instead, it just makes small coughing noises. Then, satisfied Dain is soundly sleeping, the beast reaches out one talon and pokes at his shoulder.
“Rowan.”
Alianor’s voice at my ear makes me jump. She motions me to silence, and I give her a hard look for that. I wouldn’t need to be warned if someone didn’t sneak up on me.
“Someone’s coming,” she whispers.
I nod. “Wilmot.”
She looks doubtful. “It’s more than one person.”
“Wilmot and Trysten, then?”
“I…” She steps back and waves for me to follow. “Just come and check it out with me.”
I glance back at Dain. “I can’t.” I motion for her to peek out as I whisper in her ear. “I’m hoping the juvenile will wake him, and he can run. I need to be here to call to him. Or to intercede if it attacks.”
She nods. “I’ll go check out who’s coming.”
“Take Malric.”
Another nod, and she’s gone. I bend down to Jacko and give him a pat as we watch the juvenile dragon. It’s being careful. Too careful. I want it to prod at Dain, roughly. Wake him up before whoever’s coming—
Footsteps thump in the tunnel, and I jerk my head up at the same time the juvenile does, its golden eyes turning my way. I back up until I can peer into the tunnel and see Alianor returning at a run, her bare feet slapping the rock. I motion wildly for her to slow down, but even as I do, I hear the pad of multiple feet, moving quietly but steadily.
Alianor swings into the side passage with me. “It’s Geraint and his men.”
“Did they see you?”
“I don’t think so.”
I hesitate. I’m not sure what to do here. I want to stop them from getting into the den. From stealing more eggs or hurting the juveniles. But a part of me also whispers that I could use the distraction of their arrival to rescue Dain.
What is my responsibility here? To my hunter? Or to the dragon?
My hunter and my friend. I must get Dain out, yet I must also try to avoid betraying the dragon.
Betray her? She would have killed you. Killed Dain.
It would be safer for Tamarel if she left. But if all her offspring were stolen, she might attack Tamarel.
While my priority is Dain, I cannot flee and let Geraint destroy her family.
“We’re getting Dain,” I whisper. “As soon as the dragon hears them, we’re getting him out. Then you’re taking him.”
“While you do what?”
“I-I’m not sure. Just get Dain out.”
“They’ll kill you. Or she will. We need to—”
Something lunges behind me. I see it just as Alianor yanks me away—it’s the young dragon who’d been checking out Dain.
