So you see, Rysha said, wrapping up her latest story, Dramon the Bold, who desired nothing more than to go down in history as the greatest warrior ever, is now remembered as the inventor of modern glue. All he wanted was to make it so the visor on his helmet stayed up when he was riding all day, but today’s bookbinders and artists seeking sealants for their canvases have him to thank for discovering that rabbit skin—essentially refined rabbit collagen—makes an excellent adhesive.

Hm, Shulina Arya responded.

Usually, the dragon asked questions when Rysha finished a story, and she’d previously proven intrigued by science-related tales, so Rysha was surprised by the subdued response.

Maybe she was tired. The Iskandian coast had come into view again, with the sun setting out over the sea, casting interesting shadows inland. Rysha found the mixture of sunny hilltops and shady valleys remarkable from above, but it had been a long day. Perhaps Shulina Arya needed a nap. And some tarts.

“You doing all right, my friend?” Rysha patted the dragon on the side.

Yes, Shulina Arya replied. But…

Yes? Rysha asked, surprised by the hesitation. Shulina Arya rarely hesitated to speak her mind.

Do you know any stories of dragons falling in love with humans?

Ah, I know of many fictional stories, and of course, there are many accountings of human women being compelled to have sex with male dragons. I don’t imagine love, in the human sense of the word, was involved though. Rysha glanced toward Trip, feeling a twinge of sadness for his birth mother, whoever the woman had been. Given what a blatant ass Trip’s sire had been, Rysha was positive the poor lady had been magically compelled to sleep with him. She at least hoped his mother hadn’t been physically forced. With a dragon, that probably wasn’t necessary. Rysha shuddered, remembering her own experience with the bronze in Lagresh.

No, being compelled is not being in love, Shulina Arya stated firmly. Neither is mating for biological needs, because one’s breeding cycle comes and one has urges.

I’ll agree with that. It dawned on Rysha what this was about.

Shulina Arya hadn’t said anything about the elder dragon’s unwelcome advances, but it had to have been on her mind during the flight home. Bhrava Saruth and that bronze dragon had been faithfully trailing her the whole time. She didn’t appear to appreciate their proximity.

You don’t believe you’ll find love among your own kind? Rysha asked.

What sounded in her mind reminded her of kids thrusting their tongues out and making rude noises. Loudly.

Male dragons are like male horses, Shulina Arya said. They just want to mount something young and robust to satisfy their urges. They don’t know about love. There isn’t even a dragon word for love, not like the human word. The romantic word. You and Captain Trip are romantic. He makes you things.

He’s a good man, Rysha said carefully, not wanting to circle back to the dragon offering to take him as a mate if Rysha grew tired of him. Perhaps you could come with us to the officers’ club one evening, and he could introduce you to some nice young pilots. A pilot seems like a good match for a dragon. You would have a love of flying in common.

That sounds fun. I could wear my new roller-skates!

Indeed. Rysha wondered if she should try to find a college student for Shulina Arya instead of an officer. Or even a pre-college student? No, even if she acted young when she shape-shifted, she was hundreds of years old as a dragon. It would take someone more mature than a teenager to handle a near-immortal lover.

“There’s smoke inland,” Trip said over the communication crystal, the first words anyone had spoken aloud in an hour. “A lot of smoke.”

“Let’s check it out,” Colonel Grady said.

Trip cursed. “I also sense another dragon over there.”

Storyteller, Shulina Arya blurted, as Rysha noted that the terrain under that smoke appeared familiar. It is that silver dragon I chased the other night!

“And that’s my family’s valley,” Rysha said grimly.

Shulina Arya pumped her wings and arrowed toward the smoke, pulling ahead of the fliers.

“It’s the silver dragon, Trip,” Rysha said. “We’re going to deal with him.”

“I’m coming right behind you.”

Fear churned in Rysha’s gut as they flew past the coast and over green farmlands, vineyards, and grassy grazing land on the way to the southern highway and her valley on the other side of it. What if those thick plumes of smoke were coming from the manor? Damn it, her family had already been targeted by dragons. This wasn’t fair.

She blinked away tears and wrapped her hand around Dorfindral’s hilt. If that silver dragon had done anything to her parents or her brothers, she would shove the sword down its gullet until it came out the other end.

They flew over the highway where a few people on horseback had stopped to gawk at the smoke. Rysha scowled down at them, wondering what useless neighbors or passersby weren’t going to help, but she couldn’t make out their features from this high up.

As she and Shulina Arya neared the lake, Rysha could make out the source of the smoke. The vineyards behind the house next to the orchards, the orchards that had already been ravaged by a gold dragon’s flames. Indignation flared within her. That couldn’t be an accident. Someone—or some dragon—had deliberately chosen valuable plants, not random flora. But was it the silver? Silvers couldn’t even breathe fire.

It was the silver, Shulina Arya said. I sense him. He senses me and is fleeing. The coward.

How did he light the vineyards on fire?

He could have done it with his mind.

They flew over the manor, and Rysha glimpsed people outside, running to collect water from the lake to try and put out the flames. She doubted they would be able to save the vineyard. Her brother’s passion, the source of the wine he made, was in danger of total destruction.

She shook her head, again wondering why her family was being picked on by dragons.

Rysha? Trip asked, though his flier had fallen far behind.

Yes?

One of the men gathered on the road is Lord Lockvale.

Rysha caught herself growling like an enraged tiger.

I find that suspicious, Trip added.

I find it more than suspicious. Can you go down there and… And what, she asked herself. Capture him? Interrogate him? Trip couldn’t do any of those things to a nobleman—or anyone who wasn’t a known Iskandian criminal. Question him, she finished, hoping he could get telepathic answers that would be more accurate than anything that came out of Lockvale’s mouth.

Trip hesitated, but only for a second before saying, Yes.

We’ll be there as soon as we can.

The laws were still such that Trip would get into extra trouble for punching a nobleman—not that she expected him to do that—but Rysha could likely get away with it.

The silver is leading us toward the foothills, Shulina Arya said. Is that still part of your territory?

Yes, Rysha said, not wanting to explain inheritances and that her father and her uncle were the owners of the land, not she.

There may be caves back there that he’s been hiding in, dampening his aura so that other dragons would not sense him.

Below, the terrain grew rockier and full of small canyons and gullies as the Ice Blades loomed closer to the east. For the first time, Rysha glimpsed the silver dragon flying ahead of them, a dark winged shape weaving through the treetops. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the land fully in shadow.

Rysha could feel Shulina Arya’s powerful muscles putting forth more effort as she tried to catch up, and she appreciated it. The silver dragon dipped behind a copse of evergreens and didn’t come into sight again.

He’s flown into a gully, Shulina Arya said, veering toward that copse.

Could it be a trap?

Shulina Arya’s nostrils flared, as if the scent of her prey filled them, and she didn’t answer. If anything, she flew faster.

Rysha drew Dorfindral.

The gully was thick with vegetation, and rabbits and birds scurried for safety as Shulina Arya flapped past. At the end, a black hole marked a cave entrance, and they glimpsed the silver tucking his wings close to fly inside.

Oh, it’s definitely a trap, Shulina Arya said. He’s been trying to make me believe he’s injured, attempting to fool me with illusions, and now I’m getting an image of him hunkering inside, ready to turn and fight with his back to the wall. But I also sense hairline cracks in the rocks. He’s made it so they’re poised to fall. As if a rockfall would trap a gold dragon. He’s also created an exit in the back of the cave, a way that he can slip out. The hole is covered with foliage.

Despite her analysis of the trap, Shulina Arya arrowed straight toward that front cave entrance. Rysha eyed it warily, knowing that Dorfindral couldn’t protect her from physical attacks, such as rockfalls.

But Shulina Arya flew upward at the last second. Instead of going into the cave, she landed on the boulders above it. A great cracking and snapping came from below, and the ground quaked. Then it shifted as tons and tons of rocks collapsed downward.

Shulina Arya flapped her wings to hover above the cave instead of standing on it. Pulverized rock and dust flew up, the earthy scent tickling Rysha’s nostrils. A roar of distress came from the cave—or what was left of it.

How do you like being the one smashed? Shulina Arya cried.

The rocks stopped shifting, and the dust settled. Rysha had no way of sensing what was below them, whether the silver was still alive, if any of the cave remained, or if the dragon had been squashed.

He’s still alive, Shulina Arya said, the words quieter in Rysha’s mind. He’s pretending to be injured and buried alive, perhaps dying, but I am not fooled. I grew up being taught by crafty bronzes. I know all the ways of dragon trickery. I believe he will realize we are not leaving, and then he’ll throw off the rocks and try to flee. We’ll be here, ready to pounce.

Rysha was about to ask how long they would likely have to wait—she worried about Trip and the task she’d given him—but then the rocks shifted alarmingly. Numerous boulders flew into the air all at once.

Some would have struck Shulina Arya, but she had a barrier up, so they bounced off. Rysha glimpsed dusty silver scales as more boulders shifted.

Do not think you can take this land from me, a voice roared in Rysha’s mind.

Ah, excellent, Shulina Arya thought. He is going to fight.

* * *

Chatter sounded over the communication crystal as Trip brought his flier down on the highway not far from the group of men staring at Rysha’s smoking land. To his surprise, he heard General Zirkander’s voice and those of several Wolf Squadron members.

“Don’t shoot yet,” Zirkander said. “Hold steady. Blazer, you need to get Therrik closer so he can swing that letter opener.”

“I’d be happy to, sir, if his heavy ass wasn’t weighing down the back of the flier and slowing us down.”

“It’s not my ass that’s heavy, Major,” Therrik growled.

“Sir? This is Captain Ahn. I’m with Trip twenty-five miles south of the capital. We’re returning from our mission.”

“Come on up to the city, Ahn. We’ve got some fun for you to join in on.”

Trip winced at the confirmation that whatever battle they were fighting was happening in the sky over the capital. He thought of his little siblings in different houses throughout the city, of how their surrogate mothers weren’t mages and had no way to protect them from magic.

“There’s a silver dragon over some property down here, and something is on fire,” Ahn said.

“It’s Ry—Lieutenant Ravenwood’s estate, sir,” Trip added, hoping Zirkander would understand that meant something to him. He was worried about the capital, but he couldn’t leave Rysha to battle the silver dragon—and whatever scheme this nobleman was enacting—alone.

“Must be nice to have an estate,” someone said. Pimples?

“Not if a dragon is always lighting it on fire,” Duck drawled. “Do we—awk, look out!”

Machine gun fire banged over the crystal.

“Come help us when you’re able,” Zirkander said. “We’ve got a mess up here.”

“Yes, sir.” Ahn was flying in circles above Trip, and she looked down at him. “Colonel Grady says we need to go join them, but you and Ravenwood can stay here and deal with the silver. And then come to help.”

“Good,” Trip said, relieved nobody was ordering him away. He had already landed, and the horseback riders were glancing his way. He wanted to reach them before they decided to run.

The bronze coward is skulking away, but I shall fly to the city to assist with the battle, Bhrava Saruth announced. Trip had almost forgotten about him and Telmandaroo. Since Shulina Arya has unwisely refused my magnificent help.

She seems to refuse a lot you offer her, Trip remarked, powering down his flier and unfastening his harness.

She does. It is extremely odd. I am a very handsome dragon, far superior to that crusty elder that wanted to rub her scales earlier.

Bhrava Saruth flew overhead on his way toward the capital, and Ahn’s flier also sailed off in that direction. The buzz of her propeller soon faded.

Feeling alone and outnumbered, Trip took a deep breath as he strode toward the group of men. There were six of them. Normally, he wouldn’t find that daunting, but if they were all nobles, dealing with them would be tricky. They wouldn’t likely be intimidated by a soldier.

Trip had thought they might take off down the road when he approached, especially if they were engaged in something nefarious, but they continued talking and pointing and didn’t seem concerned about him.

With a pistol on one hip and Azarwrath on the other, and in his full army uniform, Trip hoped he looked authoritative. He let a little of his scylori show as he approached the group, but then decided it might be better to let it all out, especially if he hoped to get the truth from Lockvale.

Several of the men looked down at him from atop their horses, but Lockvale did not. He made a point of yawning and looking toward the smoke.

“Do you think the fire will spread to the house?” he asked, the words for his comrades, not for Trip. “That would be unfortunate. Much trouble has befallen this family this spring, hasn’t it?”

Nobody answered him. His five comrades were looking at Trip in the fading light, their mouths parted, as if stunned.

“What do you have to do with it, Lockvale?” Trip asked bluntly, not wanting to dawdle, not with Rysha chasing a dragon and a battle going on in the capital.

Finally, Lockvale turned to look down at him. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t seem as affected as the others by Trip’s aura. “Commoner, I insist that you call me Lord Lockvale.”

Trip hadn’t made a fuss at the Ravenwood’s family dinner, and he regretted it now. If he had been more straightforward and hadn’t worried about offending people, he might have learned enough to keep this fire—and who knew what other damage had been done?—from occurring.

“Get off your horse, Lord Lockvale,” Trip said, putting some of his power in his voice. “Let’s talk.”

Three of the men Trip wasn’t looking at scrambled off their horses. Lockvale started to shift, as if to dismount, but caught himself and sneered. He glanced toward Azarwrath.

“I don’t know what power you think that sword gives you, but if you use it on me, I’ll report you for molesting a nobleman.”

Trip willed Lockvale to float into the air, eliciting a startled cry from the man. The horse neighed with fear and ran off. Trip set Lockvale down on the road, facing him. Fury burned in the man’s eyes. Trip scraped through his surface thoughts, but the nobleman was too busy being furious with him to think about what had caused the fire.

“Are you aligned with the silver dragon bothering the Ravenwoods?” Trip asked.

“You don’t get to question me, you arrogant boy. You think because you wear an army uniform you have authority over the nobility?”

The men around him shifted backward, as if all they wanted was to avoid notice. And Trip did ignore them. He held Lockvale’s gaze and tried to find the answers he wanted.

His question had prompted the man to think of an image, of him standing in front of a silver dragon, offering a plate of apples and speaking. Speaking of plans to force Lord Ravenwood, a school rival from years back who Lockvale had never liked, to sell his land for a fraction of its worth. Since Lockvale’s father had lost most of his family’s land, he felt it his duty to acquire an estate for his children and siblings, so they needn’t join the growing legions of the noble poor who’d lost so much of their power and influence over recent generations. And if he could take Ravenwood’s excellent estate, the land so fertile and so close to the city? That would certainly be ideal.

Lockvale raised a hand to his temple, and alarm flashed through his emotions for the first time.

“What did you offer the dragon to get him to comply?” Trip asked. “Surely, not just apples.”

Lockvale’s sense of alarm tripled at this proof of mind reading.

“Get out of my head,” he shrieked, glancing at his buddies and waving at Trip, as if to order them to do something.

Trip looked coolly at them, and nobody moved. Some scurried farther back, not noticing that they stepped into thick mud beside the road.

“What did you offer the silver dragon?” Trip repeated, rummaging through Lockvale’s thoughts again.

Unfortunately, the nobleman was aware of Trip’s mental intrusion now and fought harder to block it, and his rage and fear clouded salient thoughts. Trip wished he hadn’t felt rushed and had been subtler, as that might have had a better result. Now, he could feel discomfort—almost pain—from the man, so he lessened his pressure. Reluctantly. He was worried about Rysha and the city. If General Zirkander was up in the air, the squadrons weren’t likely dealing with a simple, easily repelled attack by a single dragon.

Trip did his best to plant the image he’d already seen firmly in Lockvale’s mind, of him and the dragon talking over apples. Lockvale flashed to another image, of the silver dragon attacking people and devouring apples from trees on another estate. His neighbor’s land, Trip sensed. Men had gone out to fight the silver, but Lockvale had been clever and made an offer to it instead. He’d told the dragon that if it would work with him, together, they would acquire a great deal of land, land full of fruit and livestock that the silver could enjoy whenever it wanted. And nobody would attack it. The dragon would be allowed free rein of the land, as soon as Lockvale acquired it.

Trip grimaced, realizing it wasn’t a dissimilar offer to the one he’d made to Drysaleskar. But the Tlongan Steppes were the king’s land, and he had the right to use them in a negotiation. This land belonged to someone else, to Rysha and her family. Trip clenched a fist, angry at the man’s scheme, angry at him.

Lockvale grabbed his temples, fell to his knees, and cried out. “He’s attacking me!”

Startled, Trip drew back, removing his mental touch. But Lockvale started screaming.

“Stop him, stop him. He’s a witch! Shoot him!”

He’s feigning that pain, Azarwrath said with disgust.

Lockvale stole glances at his comrades, but none of them were moving against Trip. They were alarmed that Lockvale was being hurt, but they weren’t willing to risk themselves. Further, they were being affected by Trip’s aura, which made them want to stay on his good side, even though they had no idea who he was.

Lockvale snarled, stuck his hand under his jacket, and jumped to his feet, gripping a pistol.

Though startled, Trip raised his defenses instantly. Lockvale fired, but the bullet was deflected.

His eyes bulged in disbelief, and he ran toward Trip, firing again.

His chest bumped against the barrier, and he stumbled, falling backward. Trip used his power to tear the pistol from his grip.

“You’re scheming against the wrong family, Lord Lockvale.”

Trip lowered his barrier for long enough to float the pistol into his grip. As he held it in both hands, Azarwrath flared with red light, ensuring everyone could see. Trip channeled power into warping the metal, making it look as though he was breaking the firearm with his bare hands. He bent the barrel so it would never fire again and tossed it to the ground.

“If you or this dragon bother the Ravenwoods again, you’ll have to deal with me.” Even scarier, Trip added, switching to telepathy so the man would fully understand that he was a sorcerer, you’ll have to deal with Lieutenant Ravenwood and her dragon. And her dragon is larger than yours.

Lockvale screamed and dropped to the ground again, grabbing his head with both hands. “He’s attacking me, hurting me!”

Trip stepped back, sensing the silver dragon on the move. When he’d landed, it had been at the far eastern end of the property, with Shulina Arya chasing it. Now it was heading back toward the manor and the highway. Once again, Shulina Arya flew after it.

Lockvale staggered to his feet, backing toward his friends. “You all saw it.”

He still gripped his head, as if he were staunching some flow of blood, though there was none. He wasn’t even hurt, unless he’d bruised himself rolling around on the road. Lockvale looked around for his horse, but the creature had moved far down the road.

Fire lit up the sky behind the manor, and Trip shifted his attention, more worried about Rysha’s family than the nobleman.

He spotted the silver dragon weaving and diving as it tried to evade the flames. Shulina Arya came right behind, with Rysha on her back, but they weren’t gaining. The speedy silver dragon was pulling away, flying toward the highway. Maybe it thought it could fly out to sea and get away.

“We’ll see about that,” Trip muttered, drew Azarwrath, and ran down the long drive toward the manor—and the dragon chase.

As his legs churned, he kept his eyes on the silver. He sensed it was injured, but not enough to slow it down. He also sensed that its mental defenses were up, so neither flame nor magical attack was hurting it.

As it soared toward him, Trip planted himself in the road and lifted his hands, imagining wind channeling itself to create a wall of air in the middle of the silver’s path.

The dragon smashed into it headfirst, its body jerking and neck bending as if it had struck a brick wall. It started to fall, but then flapped its wings and recovered, shaking its head as if to shake away the stars dancing in its vision.

Shulina Arya spewed fire as she drew near. The silver glanced down at Trip, and he braced himself for an attack, but it flew off to the side of the valley, again pumping its wings so fast that it started pulling away.

Stop, you coward! Shulina Arya cried.

Trip marshaled his strength and conjured another wall in the air ahead of the silver.

This time, the dragon must have sensed it. The creature banked hard, talons grazing the magical barrier, then pushing off. It flew east again, back toward Rysha’s manor and the lake.

Shulina Arya angled, trying to cut it off. Trip created one more wall, though he struggled to make it as effective now that he stood at a greater distance.

Wishing he’d run for his flier instead of heading up the long drive on foot, he took off running again. Shulina Arya gained ground as the silver avoided Trip’s new wall. It stuttered in the air as raw energy buffeted its wings. Trip sensed Shulina Arya being subtler now, attacking with her mind instead of with fang and flames.

As he reached the lake, where tall trees grew along the shoreline, he lost sight of the combatants, the foliage blocking the sky. But he monitored with his senses as he ran. Azarwrath sent streaks of red lightning over the treetops and toward the silver. Trip tried to attack the dragon’s mind, hoping to further discombobulate it. He sensed Shulina Arya drawing close enough for strikes with fang and talon—and sword.

Shots rang out ahead of him, startling Trip.

He spotted people standing outside the manor, some with buckets and hoses, others with rifles. They fired, hopefully at the silver dragon, whenever they saw it.

Trip kept running, wanting to warn them to be careful. Dorfindral would protect Rysha from magical attacks, but a stray bullet could get through, especially if she and the sword were focused on the dragon.

As Trip raced up the last part of the driveway toward the people, the dragons came back into view. He almost jumped at how close they were. The silver plummeted toward the manor, with Shulina Arya racing behind it, breathing flames and charring its backside. Trip sensed that the silver’s defenses were down. More than that, the creature seemed barely conscious.

The observers on the ground yelled and scrambled back toward the manor as it crashed headfirst into the grass beside the driveway.

Shulina Arya swooped upward at the last second to avoid also crashing. Rysha waved toward the people—her family members, Trip presumed, though he hadn’t used his senses to identify individuals yet.

Shulina Arya rolled in a pleased victory gesture, then glided down to land on the other side of the drive from the unconscious—or dead?—silver dragon. The creature’s scales were charred, and flames burned in the damp grass to either side of it.

“Is everyone all right?” Rysha slid off Shulina Arya’s back and ran toward her family.

There were about twenty people—Trip recognized her uncle, father, brothers, and her aunt among them. They all gaped back and forth from the silver dragon to Shulina Arya to Rysha running toward them. The prim and proper Aunt Tadelay was one of the people with a rifle.

Rysha hugged her father, and that seemed to break the spell. Trip was pleased to see them gather around her and give her hugs and back pats. The other night at dinner, he hadn’t witnessed a lot of warmth from the family, which seemed so different from what he was used to with his grandparents, but their tensions had also been high.

They should know that you helped them, Azarwrath said. Then perhaps they will feel less tense about you and will be more accepting.

I don’t know about that. Unless I find out that my three-thousand-year-old mother happened to be from the era’s nobility, and I have no idea how I’d figure that out. It seems unlikely.

Telryn Yert, you are half dragon. This is far superior to having some generations-removed ancestor that helped a past king and was granted land and a title as a thank you.

Is that how it works? Trip admitted he’d never paid any attention to the history of the nobility or how one became a noble. Maybe he’d been designing paper fliers whenever it had been covered in school. If so, he felt ashamed that Azarwrath, who hadn’t been born in this country, knew more about it than he did.

Yes. If your king wished to, he could wave his hand—or fill out some paperwork—give you a few acres of land, and declare you a noble.

Trip wondered if that actually happened or if all the land available for such things had been assigned long ago. Wouldn’t a great hero like General Zirkander have been given a title and land by now if such things were still done?

Thinking of the general reminded Trip of the battle going on in the capital.

Rysha? he asked silently, hating to interrupt the hugging and talking—half a dozen people were explaining what had happened from their point of view. I have to get back to my flier and go to the capital. There’s a battle going on up there.

Rysha pulled away from the group hug and looked back at him.

Stay here until the fire is under control and you know everyone’s safe, he told her, not wanting her to feel she had to leave her family to come along. There were numerous soldiers in the capital with chapaharii blades now.

Rysha’s father said something, but she held up a hand and ran toward Trip.

She hugged him and said, “Thank you for the help,” louder than necessary.

Wanting to let her family know that he had assisted her? He hadn’t done much.

Trip patted her on the back. “I learned that Lockvale was behind this.” He waved at the inert silver dragon. “I’ll tell you more later, but you’ll want to watch for him. He might try something else. He…” Trip gazed toward the highway. The lake and the trees made it so he couldn’t see all the way back to it, but he had no trouble checking the area with his senses. The nobleman and his buddies had departed. “He’s gone, but he was responsible. I saw it in his mind. He instructed the silver to make a nuisance of himself, scare off the workers, and also to destroy some of the property so your parents would be more inclined to sell. Cheaply. Once he had the land for himself, he promised the dragon it could stay on it and would be well fed.”

“I don’t suppose you have any proof other than…?” Rysha waved at his temple.

“I don’t,” he said grimly, understanding the problem, that they lived in a world where a nobleman’s word would be given more weight than his, especially since he had used magic to learn what he knew.

“He ought to be locked up if he’s the reason our vineyards are burning.”

“I agree.” Trip looked up—Rysha’s father was coming over. “I have to go.” He bowed clumsily toward Lord Ravenwood and waved to Rysha, not wanting to deal with her family’s dismissive comments now.

“I’ll be along soon to help,” Rysha called after him as he retreated, running back toward the highway and his flier.