I don’t answer for a few more steps. Then I say, my voice barely above a whisper, “But that’s never going to stop, is it? The problems will just keep getting bigger, and Heward will keep using them as a reason to take the throne and the sword. I think I’ve finally proven myself…and then there’s another task. Another challenge. It won’t ever end.”
Dain doesn’t answer.
My cheeks heat. “Sorry. This is politics. Boring politics.”
“Not boring. Just…” He flails. “I don’t understand it. I mean, I do, in a way. The mayor I worked for, he was all about politics. Whatever it took to get more money and power. He’s like a miniature Heward. But when I worked for him, he was my boss. My master, even. You don’t work for Heward. You’re a princess. You’re above him. You don’t work for anyone but yourself. Except maybe your mother.”
I shake my head. “I work for the people. Just like my mom.”
“But if that’s true, then Heward really isn’t your boss. He’s one of thousands of bosses, and it’s their opinions that matter, right? The more good things you do, the less people will want a royal monster hunter who hasn’t stopped gryphons and a colocolo stampede.”
“I didn’t stop—”
“But we could say you did.”
“That’s—”
Malric leaps into my path. He blocks us, growling and looking up into the trees. As soon as I see the direction of his gaze, I fall back, my arm going out to push Dain along with me.
Trees. Twilight. Dropbears.
Bright-red eyes glow high in a treetop. I crouch, one knee going to the ground as I keep my gaze fixed on that tree. I lower Jacko and pull my sword. Dain’s hand goes for his bow—his weapon of choice—but then moves to pull his dagger instead. His hand flexes on it as we continue to back away while scanning the trees.
“I see one,” he says.
“In a white birch?” I say. “Twenty feet ahead to our left?”
“Yes.”
“Me, too. Any others?”
“No,” he says.
“Will you keep your eyes on that one while I look around?”
“Of course.”
I do that, pivoting to scan the treetops. The sun has barely begun to sink, bringing just enough shadow to show those glinting red eyes.
“Do you know of any other tree-climbing forest animals with red eyes?” I ask.
A sound cuts Dain off. A soft cry, like a child or a wounded animal. I tense, but I stop myself before running forward.
Dropbears use that sound to draw in good and decent people. Which proves that dropbears are kind of evil.
“I’m not falling for it this time, tiny monster bear!” I call.
“Monster marsupial, you mean.”
I stick out my tongue at Dain. Then I square my shoulders and march forward.
“Uh, Rowan?” he says.
Malric blocks me again, growling. Only Jacko marches along at my side, ready to do battle.
“It’s one dropbear,” I say. “We need to get back to Rhydd and the others before dark.”
“What if it’s a trap?”
“Then the only way to spring it is to walk in.”
“That makes no sense, princess,” Dain says as he comes up behind me.
“If it’s a trap, we could retreat, only to discover that is what the dropbears wanted. If we continue on, they’ll reveal themselves.”
“And kill us both.”
“Probably.”
He snorts at that but stays in step behind me. When we reach Malric, the warg digs in, his head lowered, fur bristling in warning.
“Do you see or smell others?” I say, gesturing at the one dropbear and then at the woods.
He looks about, and his nose samples the air. It’s a discreet movement, as if he doesn’t want to admit he understands what I’m asking. When he glowers, I know the answer is no. He doesn’t detect anything except that one dropbear.
“You may lead if you like,” I say, waving. “But I am going past it. I must.”
Malric tosses his head, fangs flashing, but then stalks toward the dropbear’s tree. I follow.
Five feet from it, he plants his furry rump, a clear sign that this is as far as we’re going. We aren’t passing until we’re sure there’s only one dropbear.
From here, I can see its outline.
“It’s small,” I say. “Really small.”
“That’s what they want you to think,” Dain says. “Because it’s the bait.”
“Cover me, please.”
I sheathe my sword and take out a fire stick box. I ignite one and hold it up. Between the stick and the remaining sunlight, I can see well enough. The dropbear lets out that same wounded-beast cry.
“Yeah, that’s not working anymore,” I say. “We can see you, and you’re not…”
I trail off as the flame reflects off wet blood down the beast’s chest.
“That’d be from its dinner,” Dain says. “Don’t be fooled, princess.”
“The blood comes from its shoulder,” I say. “You can see the gash from here. It’s injured.”
“No.”
“No what?”
“We are not rescuing a dropbear.”
“Baby dropbear.”
“Even worse. You have a weakness for baby monsters.”
I lift the fire stick. “Isn’t that…take a look at its left ear. It’s ragged, like the one that accidentally followed us into the cabin when the dropbears first attacked.” I step forward, earning myself a growl from Malric. “I think it’s the same juvenile. It stayed up in the rafters and didn’t hurt us.”
“Not for lack of trying.”
I shake my head. “It never actually tried. It correctly assessed the situation and realized it was no match for us, and it stayed in the rafters. Now it’s out and injured and—”
“No.”
“—and alone. Whatever happened to the others, this little one is alone and—”
Dain throws up his hands. “Fine.” He shoves the dagger into its sheath. “If I die in the next few minutes, you’d better make sure I get a bard song.”
“You’re not going to die. The dropbear is safely in that…”
I trail off as he starts stalking toward the birch. “Dain?”
“A bard song, celebrating my deeds as your companion. The gryphon, the jba-fofi, the dropbears and ceffyl-dwrs. Saving your
