Trip walked into General Zirkander’s office, his guts twisting with the usual nerves. He’d been called up here numerous times now, but he still didn’t find anything ordinary or blasé about it. So far, Zirkander had always had a mission for him. Would he this time too? Trip would happily go on a mission, but for once, he wouldn’t have minded staying home. He was worried that Rysha’s family was in trouble, and he wanted time to find out what was going on. And maybe build a dragon trap.

“Morning, Trip.” Zirkander stood behind his desk with a mug of coffee in hand and a folder open. “We’re waiting for a couple more, and then we’ll start.”

Trip looked toward the other person—being—in the office, having sensed his presence long before he entered the citadel. Bhrava Saruth was in his golden ferret form, lying in an early morning sunbeam slashing through the window and onto the sofa. All four of his legs were in the air.

“Bhrava Saruth is not a morning dragon,” Zirkander said.

“I’m surprised he doesn’t have you rubbing his belly, sir.”

“Generals have lieutenants around to pet the dragons if needed.”

He was rubbing it earlier, Bhrava Saruth said sleepily into Trip’s mind. My high priestess’s mate is a most agreeable worshipper. He helped with the construction of my temple, you know.

I hear generals have to be versatile and have many skills. Maybe one day, Trip would find the courage to ask Zirkander if he truly considered himself one of Bhrava Saruth’s worshippers, but not today.

Indeed. And amenable hands.

Zirkander tilted his head. “Did you get your hair cut, Trip? You look different.”

“No, sir.” After his talk the night before with Rysha, Trip had decided to very subtly let some of his aura show to see if it changed anything. Maybe people like Colonel Therrik would treat him slightly better if they sensed he had some magical competency. But Zirkander hadn’t ever treated him disrespectfully so Trip didn’t know if anything would change with him. “I did comb it.”

“That must be it. Regulations do encourage that.”

Bhrava Saruth opened a green eye and looked over at Trip, but didn’t make further comments.

Trip sensed more people walking down the hallway to the office and stepped aside, happy to ride in the back seat for whatever mission assignment was coming.

Captain Ahn strode in, her sniper rifle strapped on her back, and she was followed by Dr. Targoson, who carried a satchel. Trip hadn’t spoken much to the man outside of their meeting at Sardelle’s house the night of the uncorking, as it were.

“Morning, Ahn,” Zirkander said. “Tee, you have my acid for me?”

“I’m still not a pharmacy, Zirkander,” Targoson growled.

“Are you sure? I have a memo here that says to keep copies of purchase orders sent to Deathmaker Pharmaceutical.” Zirkander held up a paper.

Frowning, Targoson walked to the desk to look at it. “This says Daybreak Medicinal. That’s the name of the business I formed to facilitate deliveries of my healing formulas to parties willing to pay.”

“Unfortunate initials, don’t you think?”

“Not to those who can read. Perhaps you need a vision correction.”

“Oh? Do you have a cream for that?”

Trip stirred, remembering his thoughts the night before when he’d been with Rysha. Mostly, he’d been contemplating how to get more information from Lord Lockvale, but he’d also been wondering, not for the first time, if he could learn to heal her vision so she wouldn’t need spectacles.

Targoson opened his satchel and pulled out a number of devices that looked like fragile grenades.

“Designed to break open on impact,” he said. “But Cas tells me the sword makes her averse to touching my dragon-blood-using formulas and devices, when she’s using it, so you may need someone else along who can throw them.”

Targoson extended a hand toward her—Ahn had moved over to the couch, or perhaps been drawn over to it, and was rubbing Bhrava Saruth’s belly.

“If Therrik wields Kasandral and Captain Ahn flies,” Zirkander said, “she can throw them.”

Targoson’s lips thinned in disapproval, though Trip didn’t know if it was at the idea of Ahn flying and throwing things at the same time or if it was for Therrik. Trip admitted he would be content not to go on any more missions with the man. Therrik hadn’t thanked him for helping in that stairwell or for healing him afterward. His concession to calling Trip Dragon Man instead of Dragon Boy had been the only change. And Trip suspected that had been more of a concession to Colonel Grady and his rhyming preferences.

“Perhaps Colonel Grady and his sword would be appropriate for this mission, sir,” Trip caught himself saying, even though he had no idea what the mission was yet. Well, not no idea. He’d caught Zirkander thinking of dropping the grenades onto a gold dragon’s head as Tolemek had been laying out the devices.

As soon as Zirkander looked at him, eyebrows arching, Trip blushed. Captains weren’t supposed to give their opinions when generals were assigning missions.

“Did you have a problem with Therrik in Portsnell?” Zirkander asked.

“He was just brusque. And called me Dragon Boy.” Trip’s cheeks warmed further. Surely, those were not legitimate reasons to object to a fellow officer’s presence on a mission.

“Be happy he didn’t run you through with Kasandral,” Ahn said, eyeing Trip. “You’re noticeably… dragony."

Her eyeing turned into a squint, and Trip wondered if she would also ask if he’d gotten a haircut.

Dragony? Bhrava Saruth asked, still stretched out in the sun on his back, one leg twitching as Ahn stroked his belly. This is a marvelous thing to be. You humans should all learn to appreciate the wonderfulness of dragons. In particular, dragon gods. Under the armpit, yes?

Zirkander blinked. “I’m hoping that last suggestion was for you, Ahn.”

“I believe so, sir.”

As Ahn shifted her fingers to scratch the ferret’s armpit, Zirkander turned his gaze back to Trip. After a brief moment of contemplation, he said, “Very well. Colonel Grady will go with you. From what his commander tells me, he’s a perfectly capable officer, if newer to the dragon-slaying swords.”

“Thank you, sir,” Trip said, though it occurred to him that he might be getting his way because he was letting some of his scylori show today. He didn’t want to manipulate people, and worried he might have inadvertently done so.

No, they will simply sense your power and your right to lead and be heard, Azarwrath informed him, sounding pleased. This is not bad, Telryn. Your blood gives you those rights.

I’d rather earn rights through my deeds than because of my blood.

You will find you’re given more opportunities to earn them as people regard you with the respect you deserve. It is not as if your blood is causing you to trick them. This is who you are.

Trip sensed someone else coming into the citadel, the aura strong even though she was in human form. Shulina Arya.

His heart warmed as Trip sensed Rysha walking at her side. Actually, she walked several paces behind. The dragon seemed to be running. Or was that skipping? Did dragons skip? Trip looked over at Bhrava Saruth.

Bhrava Saruth sat up on his haunches, chittered, then hopped into the air. When he landed, he was in his human form, shaggy blond bangs hanging in his eyes, and his clothing more appropriate for a day at the beach than a military mission. He patted down his loose terry vest, straightened his long beaded necklaces, then licked a finger and slid it over his eyebrows.

“Guess that means the female is here,” Zirkander said.

“Greetings, humans!” Shulina Arya cried in her exuberant voice as she skipped into the room. “Captain Trip,” she blurted, coming over to him. “My rider said you might be able to make me something called roller-skates.”

“Would that facilitate the capture of a pesky silver dragon?” Trip asked.

“No, but they sound like so much fun.”

Rysha walked in, immediately spotting Trip and smiling shyly at him. His body hummed at the memory of their night together. As much as Shulina Arya’s appearance had seemed untimely the night before, it was better that they had ended up back in Rysha’s barracks room rather than rolling around on her parents’ gravel driveway.

“Silver dragon?” Zirkander asked.

“One has been flying over my family’s property and scaring away workers, sir,” Rysha said, coming to attention and saluting him. “But we’ll handle it. Trip is going to build a dragon trap.”

“A trap and roller-skates, Captain?” Zirkander quirked an eyebrow at him. “Shall we set up a metalworking shop in your cockpit?”

“I thought you were going to say in the hangar, sir,” Trip said. “And I started to get excited. The cockpit would be crowded with shop presses and lathes inside.”

“There’s one in the fort I’m sure you could use.”

“Oh?” Trip felt inordinately pleased at the notion of being invited to use the army’s shop. He wagered they had the latest tools, far superior equipment to what his grandfather had in his woodworking area out back. “Thank you, sir.”

“You sound more enthused about that than you would be about a promotion,” Rysha said, stepping close enough to nudge him with her elbow.

“Tools are fun. Promotions mean an increase in responsibilities.”

“And often a desk,” Zirkander muttered. He raised his voice, “Since we’re all here, let’s begin. Assuming Bhrava Saruth is done playing with his eyebrows.”

“Really, mate of my high priestess,” the now-human-dragon said. He’d managed to ooze over to stand close to Shulina Arya, though she hadn’t so much as looked at him. “I merely wish to ensure they appear well-groomed.”

“I don’t think it matters when your hair is covering them.” Zirkander shifted to face all of them. “This is a small team as you can see. Captains Trip and Ahn, and Lieutenant Ravenwood, along with our dragon allies if they’re willing to go.” He extended a hand toward Shulina Arya and Bhrava Saruth. “I’ll inform Colonel Grady that he and his sword will be joining the team. Ideally, you won’t be picking a fight with anyone. Trip, you were the one to suggest this mission, so even though the colonel will be in charge, you’ll be leading. I’m sure you and the dragons are the ones who’ll be able to find him.”

“Him?” Ahn scratched her head.

Trip was getting just enough of Zirkander’s surface thoughts to understand who he was talking about. “Drysaleskar, the elder gold, sir?”

After the battle in Portsnell, Trip had mentioned the idea of making an alliance with the dragon, since all the other dragons had been terrified of him, but from the way Zirkander had neutrally said he’d think about the idea, Trip hadn’t expected to hear about it again.

Zirkander pushed aside folders to reveal a newspaper on his desk.

“The king brought this to me personally last night and said to do something about it.” He held up the paper to show the front page.

Above the columns of text, a dragon had been drawn sinking its talons into a large fishing vessel and thrusting its head into the hold, presumably to devour the crew’s fresh catch.

“Is that supposed to be Drysaleskar?” Shulina Arya asked. “It’s not an accurate rendition.”

“I understand he doesn’t stay around and pose for the cameras. He steals weeks’ worth of fish, then flaps back out to sea. But as Trip noted, his presence may be what drove all those scheming dragons to flee Portsnell.”

“Not all of them,” Shulina Arya said. “My rider and I had already slain the big gold.”

“Of course, excuse me.”

“And naturally, I would have slain those silvers before they could escape,” Bhrava Saruth said, “but I did not wish to do damage to the human structures along the water.”

“We appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Zirkander said.

“One of my worshippers in that town is a fisherwoman.”

“The mission, sir?” Ahn prompted, glancing at the grenades lined up on the desk and then at Targoson, who merely shrugged in response.

“After some discussion with the king, he’s agreed that Trip’s idea has merit, especially since dragons seem to prefer warmer climates. Our Tlongan Steppes in the south aren’t overly populated, so we could turn an area there into a private dragon park and invite this elder gold to live there. With the understanding that he would let other dragons know this is more or less his country, and that he’ll chase off any of his kind that pester it.”

“If he wanted the Steppes, wouldn’t he have already claimed them?” Targoson asked.

“Maybe he hasn’t been down to see the property yet and note all its fine merits.”

“The ground is so dry that it cracks.”

“For a dragon, that could be a merit. Plus, some of the area is adjacent to the ocean, and this dragon is fond of seafood. Angulus said we could pay a tribute of sorts to it for its help. Weekly deliveries of crab, lobster, fish, etcetera. It’s not an ideal solution, but it would cost us a lot less than the crown is shelling out for repairs of buildings and infrastructure in cities and rural areas that have been attacked. Many insurance providers are refusing to cover destruction by dragon, and the king is getting dozens of petitions a week. He feels obligated to help his subjects, of course, but my understanding is that the coffers are running low. And then there are the human losses.” Zirkander grimaced.

“While I can imagine a dragon wanting to lounge around and be fed—” Targoson looked at Bhrava Saruth, even though he was now standing and sneaking glances at Shulina Arya’s chest rather than lounging on the sofa, “—would he truly agree to defend all of Iskandia from other dragons in exchange for a few lobsters tossed in his gullet?”

“He might not have to do anything,” Trip said. “The other dragons fled at his approach. I don’t know what discussion they had, but those dragons didn’t come back. And it didn’t even seem like Drysaleskar was angling for the city. Just the seafood.”

“We might have been part of the reason they didn’t come back.” Rysha touched the hilt of her sword.

Trip spread his hand. “It would be nice to think so, especially since our teams did kill three of them, but I believe it was Drysaleskar’s arrival that ended their ploy prematurely.”

“Which is why the king wants you to locate him and offer him the Steppes,” Zirkander said.

“Which one of us gets the job of negotiating with him, sir?” Ahn looked dubiously at Bhrava Saruth and Shulina Arya. The pair looked like teenagers ready to head to a music festival in the park.

“Captain Trip.” Zirkander met Trip’s gaze. “You’ll be in charge of talking with the dragon.”

“Yes, sir.” Trip found the idea daunting, but he also agreed he was best qualified. Though their two dragon allies seemed to like Iskandia and humans well enough, he couldn’t imagine entrusting negotiations to them.

“If it doesn’t go well,” Zirkander said, “you’ll have two trained warriors with dragon-slaying swords along.” Grady wasn’t there, but he gestured at Rysha.

She looked pleased at this designation and lifted her chin.

“And acid grenades,” Zirkander added. “Are those as fragile as they look, Tee?”

Trip imagined the devices rattling around on the floor of his cockpit as he flew into battle.

“No,” Targoson said. “You’ll have to make an effort to break them when you throw them. I trust it goes without saying that a dragon’s magical barrier would need to be down so they can make contact with its scales.”

Trip nodded, knowing that getting the dragon’s defenses down would be his job. What he didn’t know was if he had a chance at accomplishing that. Not only was a gold more powerful than the silvers and bronzes he’d battled, but this one sounded a lot stronger than a typical gold.

“Pack what supplies you need for the two fliers you’ll be taking, and prepare to depart first thing tomorrow,” Zirkander said.

“Only two fliers, sir?” Ahn asked. “Is that a big enough team if there’s trouble?”

“Two fliers and two dragons. Bhrava Saruth and Shulina Arya have agreed to go with you to help convince Drysaleskar that Iskandia is a lovely country, worth defending and worth not ravaging.”

“It will be even more lovely after I can zip through the streets of your city on roller-skates,” Shulina Arya announced, looking squarely at Trip.

Did she expect them before they left? Those violet eyes certainly seemed hopeful, and Trip sensed the pull of her scylori, the desire to do whatever the dragon wished.

He snorted, somewhat amused that it worked both ways. He could affect people, but if he wasn’t careful, he, too, could be affected.

“I suppose I can work on a pair this evening while I’m being tutored,” Trip said, not certain the idea was entirely his.

“Excellent.” Shulina Arya twirled.

Targoson blinked a few times, and Captain Ahn’s eyebrows climbed. Zirkander didn’t react—maybe he was so accustomed to the quirks of his dragon houseguests that one wanting skates didn’t seem at all odd to him.

Did you know your dragon twirls, Rysha? Trip silently asked, noticing her faint smile.

Yes, she does it in the air too. I’ve been thinking of asking Dr. Targoson for something for my stomach, but I’m a little worried Shulina Arya would be disappointed if I had to take drugs to ride her. Do you think the dragon riders of old dealt with motion sickness? I don’t remember it being mentioned in any of the texts from the First Dragon Era.

I believe we’ve established that those texts were woefully incomplete in some areas.

This is true, Rysha thought as Shulina Arya twirled again, then flounced out the door.

Bhrava Saruth trailed after her, admiring her backside.

Trip tried to decide if Bhrava Saruth was too old for Shulina Arya. In his human form, he only appeared to be about twenty, but he claimed to be thousands of years old. Shulina Arya was only hundreds of years old. Did that difference matter to dragons, or were females considered mature as soon as they started having breeding cycles? Whenever that was. Trip decided his brain couldn’t handle speculation on dragon relationships.

“I think you’ll be fine with your small group,” Zirkander said. “We don’t want Drysaleskar to feel ganged up on. This is a negotiation, not an assault. Besides, we’ve got Wolf and Tiger Squadrons going out in the morning to handle reports of recent dragon activity elsewhere on the coast.” He nodded, somehow including them all in the gesture. “Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir,” Rysha, Trip, and Ahn said together.

Targoson waved a dismissive hand at Zirkander and said, “I’ll invoice you for those grenades.”

“I can’t wait.”

Targoson and Ahn walked together bumping shoulders and murmuring quietly as they headed out. Trip let them go ahead, then followed with Rysha at his side.

“I’m sorry this will delay my plans to make a dragon trap,” he said, “but I’ll get started as soon as we get back.”

“Maybe if Drysaleskar comes to claim the continent and all of the king’s complimentary lobster for himself, that silver dragon will disappear on his own. Or the countryside will calm down, and my father won’t feel pressured to sell.”

“That wouldn’t be as fun as creating a snare for a dragon.”

“You have roller-skates to make before you can start designing traps.”

“Yes, and I understand I have you to thank for that request.”

Rysha grinned impishly at him.

“You can buy roller-skates in a city this big, you know,” Trip said.

“Yes, but whatever you make will be better.”

He matched her grin, sensing it was a statement of truth for her, and not simple flattery. He appreciated that she believed that.

Rysha brushed the back of her hand against his. Since they were both in uniform, hugs, hand-holding, and butt-touching were out.

“Do you think it will take long to find this dragon?” she asked.

“I don’t know. If he’s staying near our coastline, I’ll be able to sense him from fifty miles away, and our dragon allies may be able to track him down from even farther away. The question is whether he’ll want to be found by us.”

“Maybe we should take along some sample lobsters.”

Trip imagined tossing seafood into a dragon’s maw from his cockpit. He also imagined having to smell decomposing lobster sitting in his flier until they found this Drysaleskar.

“Would tarts be better?” he asked. “I can see if Sardelle has any extras on hand when I have my lesson this evening.”

“I don’t know if Angulus is prepared to add tarts to his tribute.”

“So far, all the dragons seem to have a sweet tooth. Or sweet fang.”

“I can’t deny that.”