Light My Fire

But Celyn couldn’t be bothered as he took to the air once he realized there was one other dragon he needed to protect if he was going to ensure that the Salebiris didn’t get their way.

Elina watched the wild boar charge away, her arrow missing the damn thing by a mile.

“I’ll get him,” Kachka said, running after the animal.

Disappointed in herself, Elina sat down on a tree stump.

“That was pitiful,” she told Var.

The young boy was busy reading a book, paying no attention to what Elina and Kachka were trying to teach him.

“It could be worse,” he said, turning the page. “Your mother could have taken both eyes.”

Elina nodded. “I like you, Var. You are not whiny and constantly sobbing like that brown one.”

Var glanced up from his book. “Auntie Talaith?”

“No, no. She is strong like all Nolwenn witches are. I mean her daughter, Rhianwen.”

“I haven’t met her yet, so I wouldn’t be able to agree or disagree on that statement.”

“You are strange child. But I still like you.”

Elina yawned and scratched the back of her neck. That’s when she realized something.

“No birds.”

Var looked up from his book. “Pardon?”

“No birds.” Elina nocked another arrow in her bow and stood. “They have stopped their singing.”

Kachka walked out of the woods. She had no wild boar carcass with her, and Kachka never missed a shot.

Staring at each other, the sisters said together, “No birds.”

A twig snapped behind her and Elina spun to her left as she always had, her bow raised, the arrow loosed without thought. It slammed into a man’s chest. He stumbled back, eyes wide in disbelief, staring at Elina in shock before he crashed to the ground.

“What have you done?” Var screamed as he jumped up, tossed the book away, and ran to the man’s side.

“Shoot first,” Kachka said for Elina. “Mourn loss second.”

“He came up on my blind side.”

“Gods,” the boy said. “I know him. He’s . . .”

Var suddenly ran at the sisters, his hands out. He pushed them, hard, attempting to shove them back. “Move. Please. Quickly!”

Understanding that this particular boy wasn’t one for hysterics, Elina and Kachka grabbed Var by his arms, lifted him, and ran until an explosion of flames had them diving for the ground. When they felt safe enough to look, there was a dragon carcass where the man’s body had been.

“Everywhere,” Kachka complained. “There are dragons everywhere.”

Var scrambled up. “That was an Elder Guard.”

“Elder Guard?”

“They protect the Elder Dragon Lords just as Celyn protects the queen.”

“If that’s true, then why is he here?” Kachka asked. “Why is he not protecting his Elder Dragon Lord rather than wandering up behind my sister?”

Var moved close to the dragon, studying him. Then he suddenly dropped to a crouch and began to dig under the body.

“What is he doing?” Kachka asked.

“I have no idea. He is strange boy.”

Var stood and he now held a gold blade.

“By all reason,” he breathed.

“What is that?” Elina asked.

“A ceremonial dagger.” He studied the runes on the side and the hilt. “‘In the glory,’” he recited, “‘of the one true god.’”

Var looked up at Elina. “Uncle Bram!” he suddenly screamed. “Uncle Bram!”

Bram had made it as far as the dining hall before he was forced to dump his bag on one of the tables so that he could sort through all his things.

He didn’t know how long he was focused on that task, but he nearly jumped out of his weak human skin when he heard voices behind him.

Bram spun around and let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, Elder Vass, Elder Loran, Elder Reganach. Hello. What brings you here?”

“Important business about the queen.” Elder Vass smiled. “You do have some time, though, yes? To talk.”

“Of course.” Bram invited the dragons into his home with a wave of his hand. “Please come in. Let’s talk.”

Dagmar was busy in her study, analyzing the bills from the stonemason, hoping to figure out what that tower could possibly be—although she was pretty sure she already knew what it was for . . . much to her great disappointment—when her study door was pushed open.

She glanced up and saw the blurry form of Arlais standing there.

“Yes, Arlais?” Dagmar asked as she leaned back in her chair and put her spectacles on.

“Would you like some tea, my lady?” Mabsant asked.

Dagmar shook her head and waited for her daughter to come close.

“I have a request, Mother,” Arlais stated. As she approached Dagmar’s desk, Adda came out from under it and pressed her big dog head against the child’s neck. It was the only thing that gave Dagmar any comfort. The fact that dogs seemed to love Arlais and, in return, Arlais adored them. If the dogs were terrified of her or aggressive toward her, Dagmar didn’t know what she’d do.

A knock at the door had Dagmar rolling her eyes—Why is it suddenly so busy in here?—but Mabsant rushed to the door himself.

While he dealt with the message brought by one of the gate guards, Dagmar returned her focus to her eldest daughter.

“So what is it?”