Linni followed Darvesu past four armed policemen guarding the entrance to a primitive-looking squat structure.

“Watch your step,” Darvesu said, descending the wide but poorly lit staircase.

Holding her breath with anticipation, Linni descended the stairs.

“This place was discovered only six months ago.” Darvesu unlocked a door at the bottom of the staircase. “The fortress conservation team dismantled a damaged interior wall and found a chamber behind it. They knew at once they’d discovered something big.”

Having read the article in the newest Archeology Weekly, Linni thought she was prepared for what she was about to see.

It turned out she wasn’t.

“I’ll be damned!” someone gasped.

Mouths fell open, necks craned, and not-so-polite interjections filled the room.

“How old is this place?” Sir Raysten asked.

Darvesu turned to him. “Our experts are still working out the exact age, but they already know it predates the fortress by at least fifty thousand years.”

Sir Raysten whistled.

Three statues were carved into the rock wall opposite the door. The other three walls were covered in etched writings that reminded Linni of the old Raish texts she’d seen in museums. But this script looked even more archaic and impossible to read.

Linni returned her attention to the statues. The rightmost one was an upright man who resembled the Ra of the frescoes.

The leftmost statue was that of a dragon. Compared to illustrations in fairy tales she’d grown up with, this dragon was smallish—only twice the size of a Ra-human—and slender. The creature’s form and posture held a savage, feline grace that was absent in book dragons.

Its wings were closer to those of modern-day cyborgs than to birds. They weren’t made from feathers attached to front limbs but of membranes stretched between elongated bones on either side of his chest.

Linni studied the extraordinary dragon for a long while, but it was the middle statue that blew her mind.

It represented a man who looked like the Ra on his right, but not quite. This man seemed to be undergoing some crazy metamorphosis. He was hunkered down, his face grimacing in extreme pain, as he squeezed his head between his hands. A head whose shape was no longer round but oblong, with a spiky ridge running down the middle, over his neck and back, and then extending into a long—

“Is that a tail?” Zuzeh pointed to the rear of the statue.

Darvesu nodded. “We believe it is.”

Stepping closer, Linni inspected the figure. “And those…?” she stammered, hesitating to name what looked like thin, pointy bones pushing out of his sides.

“We believe those are some of his ribs straightening and extending to serve as struts for the wings.” Darvesu smiled at her and then at the others. “Our experts believe that these three statues represent the same being—the mythical dragon shifter.”

The woman with the yellow backpack raised her hand. “What if it wasn’t mythical? What do the wall inscriptions say?”

“They haven’t been deciphered yet,” Darvesu said.

Sir Raysten turned to the backpack lady. “Dragon shifters are a myth. The laws of physics make morphing into something more massive than oneself impossible.”

That’s what the article had said, too. The authors didn’t think the statues proved the existence of dragon shifters. They were art—a fruit of imagination like the Origin Legend, which claimed the Ra descended from dragons.

The import of the statues lay elsewhere.

“These sculptures demonstrate that the Ra colony on Sovyda was much older than previously thought.” Darvesu paused to let the notion sink before adding. “If, indeed, it was a colony.”

Keiron narrowed his eyes. “Could Sovyda, and not Ramoh be the Ra people’s homeland?”

“That’s a possibility.” Darvesu pointed to the floor. “We’ll know more when a team of Xereill’s top archeologists convened by LOR arrives here next month and starts digging.”

Shocked whispers rippled through the group.

Darvesu glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s time to wrap up our visit and head to the best restaurant in the area for a gastronomic dinner.”

Linni glanced at her own watch—seven thirty. Time to get on with her assignment.

She took the motor bus with the rest of the group since it was going to Garonn—the nearest city and trade hub where, with a bit of luck, one could hope to find a jerriya. Especially when one knew where to look.

Zuzeh had rushed to plonk herself next to Keiron, and Linni could hear her animated chatter from her seat two rows behind. The cyborg didn’t say much aside from the occasional yes, no, and hmm. Zuzeh angled her body toward him, laughed seductively and touched her throat every couple of minutes. Keiron stared at the back of the seat in front of him.

If he had the slightest intention of sleeping with the woman during this trip, he was giving the poor thing all the wrong signals.

Yet, undeterred, she persevered.

The group got off in Garonn and followed Darvesu to the famed restaurant. Linni trailed behind and then ducked into a side street. According to her research, the street harbored a watering hole where jerriyas liked to let their hair down and do business. Those women were always working, even when relaxing.

Linni smirked. I’ll fit right in.

Which was precisely the plan—to blend in and gather intel on the upcoming auction on Tastassi. Once she had the date and the venue, she’d go to the restaurant and join the group. According to the schedule, her fellow travelers were slated to spend three hours there, enjoying their multicourse dinner and dancing. Linni hoped to arrive in time for the dessert.

When the sign above the bar’s entrance came into view, she stepped behind a tree and looked around to make sure no one saw her transformation. Then she visualized a jerriya and walked her mind through every detail of the trader’s distinct appearance from head to toe.

A moment later, she looked like one.

Sashaying around the thick trunk to get into the groove, she realized she was picking up Keiron’s aura.

What the hell?

If her mind was playing tricks on her, it had chosen a bad time. Linni peered in every direction. It had to be a trick because the aura-reader in her brain told her Keiron was less than thirty feet away. Except she had an unobstructed view in every direction—and she couldn’t see him.

On impulse, she looked up. There he was, circling above roofs and trees, watching her.

She put one hand on her hip and beckoned him with two fingers on the other.

He bore down and landed in a crouched position with surprising grace for someone so brawny.

She cocked her head. “You were following me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

He didn’t look sorry—he looked thrilled.

She pointed to the bar. “I must go in now. Please don’t follow me inside.”

“If that’s your wish…” he trailed, his excitement dampening.

“If you take the same route back,”—she glanced up—“you can still enjoy the full meal. The menu looked delicious.”

He let out a sigh. “I’d rather grab a bread roll from a street vendor than endure another minute of Zuzeh telling me about her ah-may-zing beach holiday last year, and the one before, and the one three years ago…”

“You can’t blame a girl for trying,” Linni said in a surge of female solidarity.

It was easy to feel sympathy for an unsuccessful rival.

Wait—what? A rival?

“Fair enough.” Keiron gave her a crooked smile. “But can you blame a man for preferring someone else?”

She humphed, doing her best not to show how pleased she was with his comeback.

“A shifter, huh?” he surveyed her. “So, which one is your true self—an investigator from Ittroise or a Sovyda jerriya?”

Linni raised her eyebrows. “You know about jerriyas?”

Then again, she shouldn’t be surprised. What with being the galaxy’s top enforcer, it was Keiron’s job to know about everyone involved in criminal or sketchy activities.

“They’re legend.” He shrugged. “A female-only trader community, all from the same region in the south of Sovyda’s Windy Continent. They deal in gems, rare metals and minerals, rare objects, rare species, machines and androids, walking a thin line between the legal and the banned. Oh, and they make it a point to look flamboyant—like you now.”

“I’m impressed.”

“So.” He peered at her. “Which one is your primary shape?”

She tried to dodge. “I’m not doing anything illegal, and even if I were, you can’t arrest me. You’re on vacation.”

“No one’s arresting anyone—I’m just curious.” He quirked an eyebrow. “You want me to get out of your hair, don’t you? Then humor me.”

Right. Linni had a job to do. If satisfying Keiron’s curiosity would result in him letting her complete her task, then so be it. They were on the same side after all.

“I’m not the kind of shifter you have in mind,” she said. “Not the kind that switches between two physical forms.”

He bunched his brows. “What kind are you then?”

“The smoke and mirrors kind.”

And then she burst out laughing when Keiron’s jaw dropped at the sight of a bushy white beard she sprouted before his eyes.