A knock interrupted Rysha putting on her socks.

After learning she’d been too late to help with the battle, she had let Shulina Arya head off to get some rest and had spent the night in her barracks room. Believing the knock might belong to Trip, she hurried to answer it. But Lieutenant Harper, the officer from next door, stood there, already in uniform and holding a newspaper.

“Rysha, did you see this? This is your boyfriend, isn’t it?” Harper held up the newspaper.

It wasn’t open to the front page—Rysha suspected the dragon attack had precedence there—but a few pages back, there was a picture of Trip. It was his military entrance photograph from his army record; he looked a few years younger and very stiff and uncomfortable in his uniform.

Rysha took the newspaper with a shaking hand, already guessing what this was about. She’d heard Trip had healed people and maybe even saved Major Kaika’s life the night before, but she highly doubted the sensationalist-loving journalists would write him up for that.

Sorcerous Officer Wanted for Attempted Murder, the headline read.

She groaned. A large part of her wanted to thrust the newspaper back at Harper, not to read the lies and drivel the article would contain, but she made herself skim through it. Later, if she had to help Trip prepare a defense, she would need to know what that damn Lockvale had said.

…waylaid Lord Lockvale while the nobleman was riding innocently along the highway… witnesses observed an unwarranted and unprovoked attack… used heinous and vile magic to assault Lord Lockvale… barely survived the encounter… demanding the unstable and dangerous officer be hanged.

Hanged!

The paper crinkled as Rysha’s hands tightened. She wanted to wad it into a ball and hurl it across the room.

“Is it true?” Harper whispered.

“Of course not,” Rysha snapped, glaring at her. Harper had only met Trip once, and they had only exchanged a few words, so she couldn’t expect the lieutenant to know better, but the fact that anyone would doubt Trip made her furious. “Lockvale has an agenda. He was trying to get my father to sell our family’s land to him and—”

Rysha stopped as a realization smacked her in the side of the face like a wet towel. What if Lockvale was doing this because of her? Because she and Shulina Arya had killed his winged business partner and he now had no easy way to scare people and force them to sell their land? Lockvale would know he couldn’t strike at her, since she was a fellow noble and he would need a lot of evidence to cause a judge to rule against her, but Trip wasn’t a noble and he had dragon blood. Even if the return of dragons had changed a lot quickly for Iskandians, the average person still feared magic and those who could use it. A judge might rule against Trip out of fear or distaste. Rysha didn’t know what Lockvale could gain from this, but if he was petty and wanted revenge… this could accomplish that.

King Angulus could overrule a judge, of course, but Rysha had not heard of many instances when he had done that. He liked to be seen as fair and impartial. Besides, Angulus didn’t know Trip that well. He might believe there was some truth to these claims.

Rysha had to talk to him, to convince him otherwise, and to also convince him that it would be worth overruling any court’s decision. Putting aside feelings and emotions, Iskandia needed Trip, now more than ever.

“It says the military police went to his barracks room but couldn’t find him.” Harper pointed to the last paragraph. “If he didn’t do it, why did he run?”

“I’m sure he didn’t run. He’s probably at work and busy fixing fliers after the attack last night.”

Rysha expected Harper to point out that the military police would have looked for him at work, but the lieutenant shook her head and whispered, “It was awful. There were at least eight dragons up there raining fire on the city. I heard they stole a bunch of our special dragon-slaying swords. Were you there? Lots of us were wondering where our dragon allies were.”

Rysha winced. Even though they had been assigned a mission to look for the elder dragon, and couldn’t have been expected back, she felt guilty because she and Shulina Arya had been dealing with her family’s problems when the city had been in danger.

“The silver one finally showed up, but it was really our fliers that saved the day. They’re written up on the first page of the paper.” Harper made a flipping motion with her finger. “I’ve been on the night-watch duty, so I had time to read it all before the sun was even up.”

Rysha closed the newspaper to read the front page where a photograph of the “brave, heroic, and fearless” General Zirkander shared space with one of Major Kaika, who’d been willing to sacrifice herself for the good of the city.

Rysha’s heart nearly stopped at the word sacrifice. But she’d checked in at the flier hangar the night before, and she’d been told Kaika had been injured but not killed. The pilots had lost two of their own, but she’d heard all the blade wielders had survived, albeit not all of them had managed to keep their chapaharii swords.

Still, she skimmed the article to make sure someone hadn’t lied to her to spare her feelings the night before. Whenever the journalist had penned it, Kaika had apparently been in critical condition. If Kaika didn’t make it in to work that day, Rysha would track her down and make sure she was all right. Assuming she could get past all the fawning reporters who would be pushing through the gates and hoping to interview General Zirkander. She shook her head at all the accolades dumped on him when Trip was treated like a nobody who’d done nothing for the city.

“Thanks for showing me,” Rysha said, managing a civil tone when she handed the newspaper back to Harper. “I better finish getting dressed and ready for work.”

“It’s a couple of hours until first formation. You’re not going to look for him, are you?”

“If Trip doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be found. Don’t worry about me.” Rysha smiled and shut the door, though a part of her wanted to slam it.

She was going to find Trip and warn him, just in case he hadn’t already heard. She didn’t think he should run or would even consider leaving the city, but she did want to assure him that she would use all the connections she had to make sure he was treated fairly. And she definitely planned to request an audience with King Angulus. She didn’t know him well, but she wasn’t intimidated by him.

“Lots to do today,” Rysha said, tossing her nightclothes aside and grabbing her socks. Shulina Arya, is there any chance you’re listening to my mind and want to come give me a ride?

Unfortunately, only silence answered her. Shulina Arya was probably still sleeping somewhere. It didn’t matter. Rysha would take one of the army’s horses.

“I’m coming, Trip,” she whispered as she jogged out of the barracks and toward the stables.

* * *

As the gelding trotted down the street toward Sardelle’s house, Rysha spotted a very large gold dragon sleeping curled up on the lawn out front. An empty plate rested next to her snout.

“I guess that explains why there weren’t any dragons available to give me a ride,” Rysha said.

Clearly, she was going to have to figure out how to install an oven in her barracks room so she could bake tarts. Or maybe if she was careful with her lieutenant’s pay, she could subscribe to a daily morning delivery from Donotono’s. It did seem that she should reward Shulina Arya for all she did. And find a place for her to stay so she didn’t have to sleep on Sardelle’s lawn.

If Shulina Arya could sleep in a smaller shape-shifted form, maybe she could stay in the barracks, but Rysha had no idea if that could work. If a dragon fell asleep while shape-shifted, would she revert as soon as she dozed off? Rysha imagined the snapping of wood and breaking of walls and ceilings if something ferret-sized turned into something dragon-sized while in her room.

Shulina Arya opened an eyelid as Rysha dismounted, tied up her horse next to a couple of others, and strode for the door.

Good morning, Storyteller, she said in a muzzy voice, then dropped her eyelid shut again.

“Morning, Shulina Arya.”

The door swung open before Rysha knocked. That was a little disconcerting, but at least it meant she wouldn’t be waking up the household. The sun hadn’t been up for long, and it was an early hour to call upon people.

She stepped inside to the smell of eggs frying and something cinnamon-scented baking in the oven. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t had breakfast yet.

“Perhaps we should test it with some local animal,” a male voice said—it sounded familiar, but it wasn’t Trip or General Zirkander.

“Don’t even think of trying to put Scruffles in there,” Tylie said. “I saw you looking at her earlier.”

“I’ve worked with cats in the past,” the male said, “and found they are not amenable to being placed into small spaces.”

“Tell me about it.”

Rysha walked farther inside, saying, “Hello?” as she looked over the back of the couch in the living room. She recognized Shulina Arya’s parents in human form, sitting on the floor with a stasis chamber between them. One of the ones that had been broken?

Tylie sat on the couch watching them, a plate of eggs and frosted rolls in her lap. Through the kitchen door, Rysha glimpsed one of Sardelle’s younger students manning the oven—the boy.

“We won’t truly know if it’s working again until we test it,” one of the dragons said.

That was Bhajera Liv, Rysha remembered, the quieter of the two.

“Perhaps some squirrel or chipmunk or other woodland creature from the forest out back,” the other one, Wyleenesh, said.

“Morning, Rysha,” Tylie said with a wave.

“Hi, Tylie. Is Trip here?”

“With the babies.” Tylie waved toward the stairs.

Rysha blew out a relieved breath. She’d been afraid he would have left town or that the military police would have caught up with him and arrested him.

“What’s he doing up there?” Rysha had visited the stasis babies—his little siblings—with him before, but Trip always seemed a little awkward and uncertain about what to do with them. Good-hearted but clueless, as Sardelle had teasingly put it. Rysha couldn’t imagine him up there rocking the baby girl to sleep or burping her over his shoulder. She could imagine Trip discussing engineering and flier technology with the baby, rather one-sidedly.

Tylie’s eyes grew distant as she used her magic to check. “Mm, he’s still working on something in their room. They’re asleep. Well, no, Zherie is awake and watching him through the bars in the crib. Maybe he’s entertaining.” Her nose wrinkled, as if she couldn’t imagine it.

Rysha had no problem imagining being entertained by Trip working on something—he was cute when his face scrunched up with concentration and he groped for a solution to a problem.

She left the dragons debating which woodland creature they should entice in to test the stasis chamber and went to look for Trip. She hadn’t been upstairs in the house before and hoped she wouldn’t stumble across General Zirkander walking around naked.

He’s still at work, Jaxi spoke into her mind. You’re safe. Though Marinka was naked just a short while ago. She’s at the age where she wishes to assert herself regarding whether or not clothing should be required.

I think I can handle a nude toddler without being embarrassed.

But not a nude general? Embarrassment isn’t the emotion most women feel when they imagine Ridge naked.

Uh, imagining things and being presented things in reality are slightly different.

I suppose. It’s difficult to embarrass a soulblade, you know. I’ve seen everyone in the house nude.

Shulina Arya’s parents too? Rysha asked.

No. Thus far, they’ve kept their tweed on.

There weren’t that many rooms on the second floor, and Rysha soon found Trip, since the door was ajar. She pushed it open farther and started to step in, but paused. Large sheets of drawing-filled papers were strewn everywhere. Or were those schematics?

Trip leaned over a diaper-changing table that he was using as a desk. Rysha hoped he’d used his super sorcerer powers to sanitize it before starting.

She opened her mouth to ask but, since he hadn’t turned around yet, spent a moment admiring him from behind. He was still in his fatigue trousers, but they fit well and gave a nice glimpse of his backside, especially since he was bent over. At some point during the night—had he been up all night?—he’d removed his jacket and draped it over a chair, so he stood in his short-sleeved undershirt, also nicely fitted. His dark hair stuck out in all directions, and she suspected he’d been shoving his hand through it all night, but he looked good tousled. She imagined it could be even more tousled if he engaged in something more vigorous than drawing.

She shook her head at her fantasies while wondering why journalists weren’t writing about how wonderful and heroic—and handsome—he was instead of picking on him.

“I believe there’s an office downstairs with a desk in it,” she finally said, since he seemed too engrossed to realize she was there.

“There was a dragon sleeping in the chair in there when I peeked in.” Trip turned and beamed a surprisingly warm and heartfelt smile at her, especially given that he should have been exhausted. “I was hoping you would come.”

“Because you were bereaved without my companionship?”

“Because I need someone to check my math.”

“Hm, math wasn’t what I had in mind when I was looking at your ass.” Remembering that there were babies in cribs in the room, she glanced over at them and corrected that to, “Your butt.” She wasn’t sure at what age babies started remembering things adults said, but it was probably a good idea not to use suspect language around them at any time.

Trip’s smile widened. “Only because you haven’t seen what I’m working on yet.”

He waved for her to join him.

“Which dragon was in the office?” Rysha asked, knowing Shulina Arya seemed to prefer lawns, and it had looked like the bronzes had been up all night too.

“Phelistoth. He gave me a baleful look when I asked if I could use the office. Sardelle mentioned that he’s cranky before he’s had his coffee. And also after he’s had it. And during all the times in between.”

“He’s not as amenable a soul as Shulina Arya.” Rysha picked her way down the crooked aisle between the drawings strewn about, trying to guess what he was designing. A building? An airship? A combination of both?

“I don’t think anybody is.” Trip wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her.

Before Rysha could get excited about that kiss and wrap her arms around him to lengthen it, he drew back and pointed at the drawing in progress. It seemed he was too excited about his project for extended smooching. That was what she got for falling in love with an aspiring engineer. Maybe it was for the best. Sooner or later, the military police would think to look here for him. If he was building something important, he had better do it before they came.

Although… as she looked at the schematic or blueprint or whatever this was shaping up to be, she couldn’t imagine the actual structure being built in anything less than months. That would be a long time to evade the police.

“These are remarkably detailed.” Rysha glanced at the pencil on the table and pen in his hand. “Are you doing it all freehand without any tools?”

“I have a tool.” Trip leaned over and pulled something pink off the shelf next to a stack of diaper cloths. A six-inch ruler with a pink-spotted mushroom on the top.

“Ah, a staple for every architect. I’m impressed with how much you’ve done, but what is it exactly? It looks like a large building, but there’s a runway, and an engine room and propellers… Those aren’t balloons, are they? They look more like poofy pontoons.”

“Poofy? That can’t be an academic term.”

“If you want me to check your math, you’ll let me use whatever terms I wish.”

“So long as you don’t call my integers cute.”

“Can they be handsome? I’ve always been inordinately attracted to the number seven. Primes are sexy in general, don’t you think?”

Trip smirked. “You truly are as odd as I am. Are you sure you don’t have any dragon ancestors?”

“You’d be the one to know. There is a portrait in my father’s study of the original Lord Ravenwood, and people have compared him to an aardvark. It’s a good thing he was granted land and a title, because I don’t think he would have attracted the original Lady Ravenwood otherwise.”

Rysha eyed the drawings on the floor more carefully, gradually getting a feel for what he was designing. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t done a basic overview sketch, but… “Some kind of flying fortress?”

“More of a weapons platform, though I was thinking of a Cofah flying fortress that attacked the city three years ago. I remember seeing a sketch of it in the Charkolt Reader and then researching everything I could about it because I was fascinated. I was a little disappointed that it employed magic—dragon blood to be exact—and couldn’t have flown without it. Though since I’m planning to use magic in this, I can’t be an engineering elitist, I suppose.”

“Magic? Like artifacts you create or dragon blood?”

“I will likely end up using a lot of my own power to create energy supplies for the engines, but I was actually planning to ask one of the dragons for some vials of blood, yes. And to see if I can pull in Dr. Targoson for this, as he has a lot more experience with making things from their blood than I do.”

“Have our dragon allies proven willing to give blood before? I remember Kaika and Blazer taking vials from the silvers that attacked us in the Antarctic because there wasn’t any left back here.”

“I don’t think they have, no, but it’s possible the tart bribe wasn’t high enough when they were asked previously. But if they’re not so inclined, there’s a relatively fresh dragon carcass in the yard beside your castle. My understanding is that the blood stays viable for weeks after a dragon’s death, and months if it’s bottled in something airtight. Actually, that’s Jaxi’s understanding. I’m quite ignorant on the matter. I just draw things.” He waved the pink ruler. “So, the plan is to create this fortress that can hover indefinitely over the harbor or out at sea—it’ll be fully mobile so it can be moved if necessary—and to mount weapons on it capable of tracking and shooting dragons.”

“What about their barriers? Even the acid-bullets bounce off, right? Until the barriers are down? And what would keep the dragons from destroying your fortress?”

Trip grabbed a pad of paper with a bunch of arithmetic on the top page and a number circled at the bottom. “I’ll need to do some testing—or maybe someone without dragon blood who wouldn’t be bothered by it will need to do some testing—but that’s about how many pounds of metal I believe we’ll need from the banded iron quarry in Rakgorath. I’m basing my guesses on what I saw in Bhodian’s floating palace. He didn’t actually have that much of the tainted iron mixed in with the building materials, but I think it would have repelled dragons as well as sorcerers. As you remember, it nullified my powers when I was completely surrounded by it.”

Rysha well remembered unlocking the cage she’d found him trapped inside. “But how will you make magic-based power sources if the banded iron will be integrated into the weapons platform? Wouldn’t they simply go out? The way your flier crystals did when we approached the quarry?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. Magic and the tainted iron were used together in creating the chapaharii blades, and I got a chance to study yours closely that night we altered the command words. I believe I can design the power sources to be immune to the influence of the iron. And I’ll only be using a small amount of it. It won’t be as deleterious to magic and magic users as that quarry itself was.”

“This is an ambitious project, Trip.”

“I know. And like I said, I’ll need some help, but I think I can handle creating the majority of the weapons platform.” Trip waved at the sketches. “And hopefully General Zirkander can put together a team to go collect some of the ore. As for the weapons themselves, I believe if we use the tainted iron for the casings of rockets that contain Dr. Targoson’s acid, the weapons will pierce the dragons’ magical barriers, allowing them to get through to break open on their scales.”

“And they wouldn’t be able to easily destroy the rockets because of the ore,” Rysha said. “Much like our chapaharii swords.”

“Yes.”

The scale of the project daunted Rysha. Could it truly be made in anything less than years?

“The weapons I’m proposing could also be fired from the ground by a smart, sexy artillery officer—” Trip squeezed her shoulders, “—but by creating a mobile launch platform, they could be easily moved all over the country. I believe that with Dr. Targoson’s help, I could also figure out how to instill commands in the dragon blood—apparently, the Cofah were doing that three years ago before they lost their source of it—that would cause the weapons to seek out and follow dragons, so the big creatures couldn’t simply outmaneuver them. I’ll refine my plans more. I have a lot of ideas. I’m positive I can make this work. And when it’s successful, we can build more than one weapons platform and station the others around the country. If the dragons keep encountering them, they might realize it would be easier on them to simply leave Iskandia alone.”

“I’m positive you can make it work too.” Rysha smiled and patted him on the chest. She was less positive he could make it work in less than five years, but she was glad to see him using his passion for creating things for this. It made perfect sense to her. “May I ask what prompted you to start thinking of doing more than flying and shooting things and becoming a hero that way? Those were your words as I recall. I don’t disapprove, mind you. I’m just curious.”

He gazed down at the floor, then over at the cribs.

“Part of it was the attack last night and how bad I felt for not being there to help. I realized that I’m not immortal and I won’t always be here for Iskandia and my relatives and descendants—should there one day be descendants.” Trip smiled briefly at her. “Even when I am here, I’m only one man, and not nearly as powerful as an actual dragon, so the magic I can do at any one given time isn’t the answer. Not to mention that I’ll likely be fighting prejudices and outdated concepts all my life.” He winced.

He must have heard about Lockvale’s accusations.

“But if I create something that anyone can use, and that can protect a city—maybe even the whole country—without me having to be in the area… that seems like something I must do. Yes, it’s taken me a long time to realize this. It’s hard to give up those boyhood dreams. I still envy Zirkander his reputation and the adoration he gets from the newspaper journalists. And yes, I know that’s immature and un-evolved.” He smiled again. “It was actually a conversation last night with Shulina Arya’s parents about my birth mother that changed something for me. One of them remembers her, you see. They thought she might have chosen to sleep with my sire of her own free will, not because she cared about him but because she wanted a half-dragon baby who would grow up to change the world. If there’s any truth to that, it’s daunting, I’ll admit, to think someone conceived you thinking you’d be this great being, but it’s also… I feel this expectation now. I don’t want to fail. I know she’s been gone for three thousand years, but I’d hate to disappoint her.”

Rysha left her hand on Trip’s chest as she listened to him. She thought it sounded awful, to choose a father—a sire—not out of love but to create more desirable offspring, but it did strike her as better than the likely alternative, that his mother had been forced against her wishes. Remembering that bronze dragon pawing over her in Lagresh still made her shudder.

“You couldn’t disappoint anyone if you tried, Trip,” she said.

“Lord Lockvale seems less than pleased with me.”

“Only because you haven’t made him a coffee maker.”

Trip paused. “Do you think that would work?”

“Maybe you should keep gifts for the home in your cockpit. You could have tried wooing him with one on the highway. Though I wouldn’t want you to make friends with the man who’s been plotting against my family.”

“I can assist people with their coffee woes without befriending them.”

Rysha grinned, and was thinking of kissing him, but Trip stiffened and turned toward the wall. His eyes grew distant, and she knew he was investigating more than the paint.

“The military police are coming.” He sighed, let go of her, and started stacking papers so he could roll them up. “I need to get out of here.”

“Get out? Are you officially going AWOL?”

“I can’t build this from a military prison.”

“You can’t build some huge half-mile-long flying weapons platform while you’re out hiding in the woods, either. Trip, that’s a job for fifty people. Plus, you need the banded iron ore from that quarry, right?”

“The woods aren’t the place I have in mind. Have you seen Bhrava Saruth’s temple? I was thinking of asking him for sanctuary there. There’s a huge flat area out back. If I agree to worship him or rub his belly or make him tarts, I bet he would let me stay. Maybe he could even be convinced to help. Even better, only his human followers go out there, and there aren’t many of them. No dragons would be caught there, so we could build the platform and spring it on our enemies before they knew anything about it.”

“Make tarts? Trip, I’ve never even seen you make your own breakfast. Everything you eat comes out of the mess hall or a ration box.”

“Yes, much to Azarwrath’s lament.” Trip rolled up his drawing-filled papers and grabbed the pen and pencils he’d been using. He reached for the pink ruler, but left it, perhaps afraid to borrow such a precious belonging without permission. “If I can’t make tarts myself, I’ll make a machine to make them. How hard can be it be?”

“Trip…”

He glanced at the door, then headed for the window and pushed it open. One of the babies woke up and gurgled a protest. Or maybe that was an incipient cry.

“Trip, wait.” Rysha lunged after him and caught his arm.

“I can’t stay, Rysha. They’re almost to the front door.”

“I don’t care. Listen to reason for a minute. That being me, since I’m the only other one here over six months old.”

She feared he would pull his arm away, dart out the window, and disappear into the woods, but he paused and looked at her.

“If you run and hide—if you go AWOL—you’re only going to make things worse. Much worse. People will think you’re guilty, that you have something to hide.”

“General Zirkander told me to come out here.”

“He told you to go AWOL?”

“No, he said to spend the night here and that we’d go see the king together in the morning. But then he never came home. And the military police did.”

“Trip, don’t make this way worse than it is. Just wait for the general. If you insist on being difficult, nobody can arrest you against your wishes, but that won’t help your cause. If you let them take you, it would only be temporary. I’m sure Zirkander can find you right away. And if he forgets—which he won’t—I will find you. Trip, I have a dragon, and I’m not afraid to use her.”

He snorted, but he smiled too. Rysha found that encouraging.

“I’m positive that Shulina Arya would require no more than six tarts to be coaxed into perpetrating a prison break.”

“I can imagine her riding in on her scooter with a key ring in hand.”

“It could happen. And just in case you don’t think my dragon and I will be enough to save you, remember that you do have a few powers of your own. I haven’t heard anything about the prison in the fort being lined with iron from that quarry. You could turn the cell bars into a coffee maker if you get bored of waiting.”

“This is true.”

A pounding knock sounded at the front door.

Rysha watched Trip’s eyes, still afraid he might panic and bolt. “I bet if you take your drawings along, you could work on them there.”

“But will there be a ruler?”

“Sardelle’s daughter would probably permit you to borrow hers for a few days.”

“I’d feel bad if it was confiscated.” Trip sighed and closed the window. “You say you’re the voice of reason?”

“When compared to two babies and a dragonling man with a maniacal plan.”

“Hm. All right. I shall attempt to be reasonable. While on my way to prison. And I am taking that ruler.” Trip strode across the room to the changing table to pluck it up.

Rysha wagered he would ask Sardelle if he could borrow it on the way out.

Another gurgle came from a crib, and Trip paused to look in. “If I never see you again, Zherie, I want you to know that your brother thinks you have the potential to be a wonderful and brilliant person.” He waved the pink ruler which elicited some giggles, then stepped toward the other crib. Rysha wasn’t sure if Sardelle’s newborn was awake yet. “If I never see you again, Olek, I want you to know that your mother’s student thinks you have the potential to be a wonderful and brilliant person.”

He saluted the baby with the ruler, then headed for the door.

“You think they’ll remember that?” Rysha asked.

“Nah, but it makes me feel better about using their room all night and scribbling loudly in the dark.”

“In the dark?” She followed him into the hall and toward the stairs.

“I didn’t want to bother them by having lanterns lit.”

Stern male voices drifted up from below, and Rysha didn’t reply. Nervous energy coursed through her as she wondered if she’d done the right thing. She wanted to believe that a better result would come of Trip staying and dealing with this than running away—even if he only wanted to run away to build a weapon to protect the city from dragons—but she couldn’t see the future and know for sure.

“There he is,” a man said as Trip stepped off the stairs and into the living room.

Rysha glimpsed one of two uniformed men trying to stride through the door and into the house. But he bumped into an invisible barrier and stumbled back.

“Ma’am, we have orders to arrest Captain Telryn Yert. It’s unlawful of you to stop us.”

Sardelle stood inside the door, her shoulder to the wall and her arms folded across her chest as she looked at the men. “I’m not stopping you. But Captain Trip has several scaled friends who are here. It could be any one of them.”

Trip paused with his hand on the back of the couch. The two shape-shifted bronze dragons wandered into the living room with coffee mugs and a plate of pastries in hand. Phelistoth followed them, also carrying a steaming mug, and he gazed blandly toward the front door.

Rysha leaned toward the window, wondering if Shulina Arya was still napping out there, but she only saw four more military police soldiers in the yard. Had they thought they would need the whole platoon to arrest Trip?

Then Shulina Arya hopped up onto the back of the couch next to Trip—as a golden ferret. For once, Rysha wished she’d stayed in her dragon form. She couldn’t imagine anyone striding up to the front door to make an arrest—or do anything else—with a dragon in the yard.

The two soldiers at the door frowned at each other, frowned inside, and frowned even more darkly at Trip.

“Captain,” the speaker said—he also held the rank of captain. “I insist that you come with us. We’ve been looking for you all night. First formation came and went, and you weren’t at work. You’re officially AWOL.”

“That’s not true,” Rysha said. “General Zirkander told him to come here and wait for him. He’s following orders.”

“We have orders from the commandant.” The MP captain held up a sheet of paper. “Judicial matters supersede all others. A civilian nobleman has made a serious charge against him. He is to be arrested and held until his case can be heard.”

Shulina Arya hopped onto Rysha’s shoulder, startling her. What is happening, Storyteller? Is your mate to be punished?

No, Rysha thought firmly, hoping she was right.

“Ridge will be home later today,” Sardelle said. “I suggest you have a seat and wait for him. My houseguest isn’t leaving until he’s had a chance to talk to his battalion commander.”

The soldiers looked at each other again, even the captain appearing uneasy. Rysha guessed that they would prefer to arrest Trip and get out of there before Zirkander arrived. The general was hardly known for being a tyrant, but he did have a big reputation to swing around.

“Later today, ma’am? We have orders to detain Captain Yert now.”

“You’ll find it difficult to get into the house, and unless he walks outside of his own accord, I don’t see how you’ll detain him.”

“Captain Yert,” the MP officer tried, addressing him to his face this time. “Won’t you cooperate and come along? I’d hate to have to write down that you resisted arrest. It’s going to look bad enough that you were difficult to find.”

“Is that human attempting to take one of our own against his wishes?” Wyleenesh asked, a half-eaten dragon claw pastry in hand.

Trip’s eyebrows lifted at the “one of our own” comment, and he looked heartened.

I can get rid of these interlopers, Storyteller. Simply let me know if it is acceptable to incinerate them.

No, they’re on our side, Rysha replied. Technically.

“I’ll come,” Trip said. “I don’t want to cause any more trouble. It wasn’t my intent to cause any at all.”

Sardelle shook her head. “Trip, a Cofah invasion is trouble. This is merely an interruption to breakfast. And not even that for everyone.” She extended a hand toward the noshing dragons.

Trip smiled. “General Zirkander will know where to find me when he learns of this.” He nodded to her. “Thank you for your hospitality, ma’am.”

Rysha followed after him, intending to ride back with them until they reached the intersection that forked off and up to the castle. At that point, she would head up there and stand outside the king’s door until she was granted an audience.

“You can stay if you want to,” Sardelle told Trip quietly as he approached the door.

“I can get out if I need to,” he said, equally quietly. “A nice cell will give me time to finish my drawings.”

“I don’t think the fort is known for nice cells.”

Trip shrugged and walked out.

Even though Rysha had argued for him to cooperate, she flexed her hands in distress as she watched the big men turn him around and handcuff his wrists behind his back. She was the only reason Trip was in this situation. If not for her, he never would have crossed paths with Lockvale.

“I hardly think that’s necessary,” Sardelle said, then lowered her voice, “or going to be effective if he wants to escape.”

Trip smiled sadly back at her, and then at Rysha, holding her gaze longer.

“Ow,” one of the men yelped, yanking his hand back.

“What’d he do?” another asked, reaching for his pistol.

“It was the sword. It’s baking hot. You can’t touch it.”

“Witch sword,” one of the men in the yard whispered, making superstitious gestures.

“Remove it and hand it to us, Captain,” the MP captain said.

“If a soulblade doesn’t want you to hold it, you won’t be able to hold it,” Trip said.

“Well, you can’t keep a weapon. It’s against official arrest procedure.”

“Even I can’t make Azarwrath do anything against his will.”

“Az-what?”

“The sword.”

“Take it off and leave it here then.”

Trip slumped at the order, his chin drooping to his chest. Would he comply?

Storyteller, are you sure these men don’t need to be incinerated? They are having unpleasant thoughts toward your mate.

I know. And no. They’re in the same army as we are.

Perhaps this army should be pruned of substandard soldiers.

By incineration?

Indeed!

After a long minute—and perhaps a conversation with Azarwrath—Trip magically unbuckled the scabbard and floated it to Sardelle. She accepted it gravely.

“How come she can touch it?” the soldier with the burned hand grumbled.

“Because she’s Zirkander’s witch,” a man in the back muttered.

Sardelle’s eyes tightened at the corners, but that was her only acknowledgment of the comment.

The MPs led Trip to a steam wagon, the back half designed to hold prisoners. Rysha curled her fingers into fists as he was put inside with a couple of soldiers to guard him, as if he were a criminal. The vehicle trundled away, belching black smoke from its stack, and rolled up the street until it disappeared from view.

Sardelle laid a hand on Rysha’s shoulder. “Ridge will get him out as soon as he’s able. Jaxi already told him what happened. He’s swamped in the aftermath of the battle—he didn’t get any sleep last night—but he promised he’ll collect Trip as soon as the work day is over.”

Rysha nodded. “Thank you, ma’am, but I intend to fix this even before then.”

“Oh?” Sardelle asked, sounding a touch wary.

“I’m going to see the king.”

The golden ferret on Rysha’s shoulder rose up on her hind legs and chittered.

“And so is Shulina Arya.”

Rysha thought Sardelle might consider this a rash action and try to dissuade her.

All she said was, “Perhaps if she were to take a more imposing form, it might help you gain an audience more quickly.”

“We’ll discuss it on the way over.”

Shulina Arya hopped off Rysha’s shoulder, ran out the door, and turned into a dragon on the walkway.

“Or we’ll make a decision right now,” Rysha amended.

One of the babies cried up in the nursery—hungry for breakfast, no doubt. Rysha was surprised they’d been quiet all through her conversation with Trip.

“I shall wish you luck then,” Sardelle said. “And if you see Ridge today…” She eyed the empty plates and mugs around her living room. “Tell him we need more groceries, whenever he gets a chance.”

“Yes, ma’am.”