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  He winced. ~It crashed on dry land.~

  ~Seven thousand. Final offer.~

  He clasped his hands over her arms and bowed his head slightly in the traditional gesture of acceptance. Zilpath could have charged him twice as much, and she knew it. But she’d also known his parents, and he had actually made good on a situation with one of her girls. And the Congruency paid him more than enough; after all, killing the enemy was good for business. ~And another thousand for a formal dress.~

  ~Another?~ She palmed the coins and paper squares, counting them in a matter of seconds. ~What are you doing, bringing her and her partner here? They’re highly trained warriors. I saw how she handled you—and she was holding back, never mind your pride. She could have killed you as easily as you snap the neck of a crenbird.~

  ~A hunch.~

  Zilpath leaned back against the counter, resting her elbows on either side, her voluminous frock hanging on her thin form. ~What kind of hunch?~

  Shance paused, glancing out of the corner of his eye. Kesia was watching both of them intently, but looked away under his gaze and began fingering the nearest swags of fabric. She couldn’t understand their words, could she? Not when she seemed so ignorant of everything else.

  It was worth the risk. He could use an ally, and Zilpath was the only option. He turned back to the old woman. ~She saved my life during the explosion. She’s the reason I’m alive, and I still don’t know why she did it. I’m not sure she does either. But she and her partner are here seeking information on the explosion.~

  ~It wasn’t them?~ Zilapth’s eyes glittered with hidden meaning.

  Shance shook his head. ~They say it wasn’t. And it wasn’t us. We’re seeking a rebel infiltration in the Scepter of Commerce.~

  ~The hunter of my hunt is an ally. Until we find the prey.~

  ~I’ll deal with that when it comes. For now, she is my betrothed. Understood? None of this information is for sale. Not yet.~ He tapped both hands over his heart and then touched his chin.

  Zilpath repeated the gesture. ~The wind and the dragons dance again. For destruction and resurrection. You do your family proud in this, and you may one day be worthy of your name.~

  ~As you say, as it goes.~ He shrugged off the portent in her words and in her circular gesture, a supplicating plea to the Four Corners. It was one thing to invoke Fiarston and Viorstan, but all of the higher prophecy stuff espoused by the Four Corners followers made him feel as trapped as being groundside.

  Shance stepped away from the desk and signaled to Kesia. She gave him another curious look. Words. That’s right. For once, he understood her flustered attitude toward them, especially if she was used to mind-speaking with her tactical partner. A partner—and something more? There had been a softness in her eyes when he’d left, a softness Nightstalker hadn’t seemed to return. Although, the male dragon was far more difficult to read than Kesia.

  Which meant they were going to have to work even harder on maintaining the charade of their engagement. Her inexperience had shown in the kiss, and much higher scrutiny would be on them during the next two weeks. At least the Scepter of Industry was known for being more reserved in matters of the heart. That should go a long way.

  But it wouldn’t be enough to convince Countess Nula. For that, Kesia and Shance would need every pretense of being deeply in love.

  “It’s time to go, my dear.” He held out his arm. Kesia studied it curiously. “Relax; it is simply a way for couples to show their commitment in public.”

  “All right.” She smiled hesitantly at Zilpath, who favored her with a big grin and a wave.

  They stepped out onto the sidewalk. Shance opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. There were too many open ears and eyes on the street. And considering Kesia’s tendency to speak her dragon-born thoughts, it would be better to establish a custom of silence starting now.

  As they continued down the street to the Central Market, Shance’s mind wandered to the feeling of Kesia’s hand on his arm, warm even through his shirt sleeve. To how easily they fell into step. To the kiss they had shared. No matter how inexperienced, Kesia still tasted of smoke and fire and passion, trembling beneath her hard, careful surface. There was a softness and a kindness to her that didn’t belong with dragonkind.

  Where did it belong? With him? The wind and the dragons dance again, Zilpath had said. But she had said dragons. More than one. Wait—dancing! Kesia didn’t know how to dance. He would have to teach her. Hold her close. Move as one together.

  A shiver of anticipation shuddered through him. In response, wind rippled down the street, weaving and rushing around the passersby and teasing at Kesia’s braided hair. She lifted her face into the breeze and breathed deeply, seeming to savor the freedom inherent in each current, in a way he’d never believed anyone else could understand.

  The Central Market rose before them with row upon row of square windows framed by ornate claymesh and glimmering gold and silver tiles. The main building stood twenty stories high, with wings on either side outlining a broad courtyard with three fountains in the center patterned in bright mosaics. The entire edifice was a radiant beacon, dedicated to the great levelling power of money and the free market.

  Kesia clutched his arm tightly, her amber eyes wide with wonder. Shance grinned and leaned close to her. “Throw a penny in each of the fountains, and your wealth is guaranteed to increase.”

  “Guaranteed by whom?” She raised her eyebrows.

  He chuckled. “Whatever deity or force you believe in!”

  “Convenient how all of them agreed to the same deal.”

  Shance laughed louder, and she joined in, her face lighting up. She was even more beautiful when she smiled. They continued up the steps to the crystalline front doors that rose two stories high in the center of the main building.

  Finally he pushed open one of the doors. Kesia frowned. “I should let Zephryn know we made it.”

  Nightstalker. Yes. “Is he concerned?”

  Her lips curved into a little smirk as they walked inside the main lobby. “He would never admit it, but yes. He’s always been more concerned than—” The dragon’s expression suddenly became wary. Her grip on his arm loosened.

  “Kesia?”

  “We have to go outside.”

  “What? Why?”

  “We have to go back!” Her voice echoed in the pillared room, drawing a few concerned glances. She shook her head, her eyes darting around the room. “What kind of place is this?”

  “Calm down. You’ve had a long journey.” Shance made the words clear and comforting, hoping others would overhear and draw their own conclusions that didn’t involve Kesia being a disoriented dragon spy. Then he guided her over to an alcove away from the traffic of the lobby. “Kesia! What’s happening?”

  Her fingers played with the cloud lily pendant around her neck. Shance covered her hand with his own before she negated whatever power the object had.

  “Zephryn. He…he’s…” She gulped a breath. “I can’t sense him. He’s gone.”

  * * *

 

  A singing emptiness echoed back her thoughts. They ricocheted around her mind, haunting her, mocking her. She was dimly aware of Shance’s words, of the clicking and tapping of shoes on the marble floor outside the darkness in her thoughts.

  A darkness that had held the solid presence of her fleetwing. Even in Zephryn’s silence, she had been able to sense his existence since the day their heartflames were bound.

  Strong arms surrounded her, drawing her close. Shance. A part of Kesia was comforted by the support and knew that she would have fallen to the ground without him. The other part wanted to rip the pendant off her neck and keen an urgent cry, loud enough to drown all other noise, bold enough to silence all thought, deep enough to shake the foundations of this city, high enough to shatter every window.

  Just like she had with the hideous monster in the cave. Her father. Reducing him to a pile of scales, his
innards liquefied, pooling out his ears.

  She’d never told them what she could do. She’d never tell.

  But what had she done?

  Shance pressed his hand firmly over hers, forcing the pendant to her collarbone. “Kesia. What’s happening? Who is gone?”

  “Zeph—Nightstalker. I can’t hear him in my head. There’s only nothing. Nothing. Nothing.” The floor rocked beneath her feet.

  A calloused hand raised her chin to face him. Shance’s blue eyes were earnest and anxious. “Can you think of why?”

  “No.” The fear choked any rational thought.

  “Well, we can’t stay in this lobby. People are staring. Can you hold on to my arm and walk with me to my quarters? Then you can do whatever you need to find him.”

  No! She needed to find him now, not go deeper into this prison where everyone lived trapped in their own minds. Kesia was about to voice this, then shut her mouth. She was a dragon warrior. She was stronger than this.

  “Yes. I can do this.”

  “Brave woman.”

  She took his arm. She wasn’t brave; she was a weakling, a dead weight, only good for pulling worthy dragons out of the sky. Even now, she hung on to Shance’s arm while his excuses to others swept past her ears.

  “Oh, my lady is tired from her long journey. All the way from the Scepter of Industry! Yes, I’m sure you can imagine. We look forward to meeting you at the opening gala. Good day.”

  All she could focus on was the hard floor, a cream color with swirls of silver and gold, silver and gold circling and swirling. Suddenly the floor changed to a thick, plush material of dark blue. She’d never felt something so soft.

  It didn’t matter.

  Nothing mattered, except that Kesia was alone, like she had been before she had bonded with Zephryn. When she was kept in the dark cell with the criss-cross lights from the ceiling grate.

  “Here, sit down. Can I get you anything? Something to eat or drink?”

  “No. Leave me alone.” Kesia sank back into something even softer than the floor, but surprisingly firm. A chair. Her hands found arms on either side. Everyone sat so much in human cities. The Pinnacle forbade any useless loitering as such. Even during meetings, everyone stood. Or so she assumed. She had only been to judgment summonings.

  Judgment summonings. The only other place where she couldn’t hear her fleetwing because of the tepstone in the walls. But tepstone and slatesheen were highly controlled substances. No one could get them out of the Cloudpeaks. Certainly no humans.

  There had to be another answer. Where were Zephryn and his logical responses, his vast array of knowledge? Together, they could have figured this out. His long-range vision, her practical application.

  Kesia didn’t know how much she could trust Shance. He’d shown her kindness, but he had his own agenda. An agenda that included requiring her to be his betrothed for reasons he had yet to reveal. Who would want a dragon as a betrothed, especially a murderer? Even Zephryn had no choice in their partnership. Humans had choices, it seemed. Would Zephryn have chosen her?

  Did it matter? Zephryn had escaped with her when their bond had been threatened. That had to mean something.

  They meant something to each other. She fingered her voicelator, warming the flower with her heartflame. The metal heated and tingled into her skin, and she felt the ridges of tiny wires in a delicate filigree. An extra touch, but why? Voicelators didn’t need decoration. The cloud lily shape was more than enough.

  More than necessary, perhaps.

 

  A presence, slightly crinkled with mental static but filled with pride, met her mind.

  Her breath caught, and a rush of joy filled her. Kesia leaned back in the chair, muscles limp with relief.

  Zephryn’s mental voice deepened with anger and other potent emotions that the voicelator connection blunted only a little.

  Kesia’s face stretched into a grin. The flame of a hundred fires filled her with dizziness, and her fingers rubbed the voicelator, wishing she held Zephryn’s hand instead.

 

  She sighed, feeling the last bit of tension leave her.

 

  Kesia touched her lips with her free hand, remembering the odd, refreshing taste of Shance Windkeeper. Only, the airship captain’s face was quickly replaced by Zephryn’s angular features, his dark blue eyes and firm mouth.

 

 

  His frustration filled their mental link.

  She sent back a wave of teasing.

 

 

 

  She rolled her eyes.

 

  She paused.

 

 

 

  Her cheeks heated.

 

  The connection broke. Kesia continued to trace the cloud lily, her lips curled in a smile. Savoring the clarity of speaking with Zephryn. Of course he noticed what she liked. He always did.

  Kesia released the voicelator and set her jaw. Time to work. The main focus was the green smoke, but if she could get insight into the Pinnacle traitors who were smuggling out tepstone, so much the better.

  If this didn’t earn her redemption, nothing would. It didn’t matter if the Pinnacle approved of her anymore. All that mattered was facing the memory of her parents without fear and finding peace by Zephryn’s side.

  Just then, her stomach growled. Violently. Kesia placed her hands over it, trying to still the writhing and pinching. In scales, she was used to eating a large meal and feeling sated for a few days. But skin form stomachs were far more limited, and with their disguise, she and Zephryn had to eat less than usual to avoid detection.

  But now Kesia was away from prying eyes, in a half-circular room with another chair identical to hers, a longer seat across from the two chairs, and on the other side of the room, a table and six chairs. A lot of chairs for only one airship captain.

  Should she ask about them? Another growl and razor sharp nails scraping her insides convinced her of more important needs.

  “Shance?”

  He emerged from another entry, his shirt off and hair damp,
a long piece of fabric draped around his shoulders. Towel. The fabric was called a towel. As for his lack of shirt, she’d heard humans had their own cleaning rituals with water from metal pipes. In the Cloudpeaks, they’d given her a bucket of tepid water and a rag to clean herself in front of a fire.

  For some reason, the picture of Shance Windkeeper washing his lean, muscled skin in such a way sent a warm rush through her, her skin prickling similar to how it had during kissing him. Kesia filed the observation away for later. Skin forms were very reactive to all kinds of stimuli.

  “You’re looking better. Good to see a little light in your gorgeous face.” He did that gesture with his eyelid again. “Did you solve the issue with the mind-speak?”

  “Yes, in a way.” Kesia frowned. Shance didn’t need to know about the voicelator solution right now. “What are you doing with your eye?”

  “Winking. It’s a sign of flirting.”

  “What’s flirting?”

  Shance chuckled. “Showing romantic interest in someone. Dragons really don’t know about these things?”

  “I guess not.” Although Zephryn certainly caught her attention, and apparently she caught his. Was that flirting? Kesia paused. “What does ‘gorgeous’ mean? Is it the same as beautiful and pretty?”

  “I would say so.”

  “Well then, what do those words mean?”

  The airship captain raised his eyebrows, “Dragons don’t have words for physical attractiveness either?”

  “We are soldiers during wartime. Physical attractiveness is frivolous and unreliable. A mirage. Why would we learn about such things?”

  “Viorstan’s blindness! All of you are missing out on what makes life worth living.” He sauntered closer to her. “If you and I are going to pretend to be engaged, I suppose I’ll have to teach you that as well. Why did you call me out here?”

  Before she could respond, her stomach growled again. “I need food.”

  “Sure, I can have a meal sent to this suite. What would you like?”