When she was done, Heath leaned in to check the seal, taking care not to jostle Laini’s wing. Tamri stayed close, wedged between Heath’s side and the dragon’s neck.
“Will she be able to fly?”
Heath hesitated. “I think so, but not anytime soon.”
Tamri’s stomach sank. “Another delay,” she said miserably. “I should have set out in a rowboat the day the oath bond broke.”
“We’ll still leave tomorrow,” Heath said. “But Laini won’t be able to come. One of the other dragons can take her place.”
Laini gave a dejected gurgle.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Tamri turned and hugged the dragon’s head to her chest. “I wish I could stay with you.”
Heath put a comforting hand on Tamri’s shoulder and then removed it, as if not sure whether it was okay. Tamri went still, her heart beating against Laini’s cheek. She used to flinch whenever someone who wasn’t family touched her. Yet she wished he’d put his hand back on her shoulder.
Instead, Heath stepped away from her, clearing his throat.
“I need to figure out what’s wrong with Althor,” he said. “This kind of behavior isn’t normal.”
“Is he sick?”
“Maybe. But I’ve noticed irritability in some of the others too, now that I think about it.”
Heath turned to survey the garden. Reya was still trying to placate Rook and the other dragons while Taklin worked with Boru and Zorya to chain Althor to the far wall. The Soolen guards, stewards, and nobles muttered to each other by the stone archway. They didn’t look pleased that their dragon guests had turned violent. At least the storm was passing on.
“We can’t take any chances,” Heath said. “I’d better separate the ones who might be affected. See you here in the morning?”
Tamri looked up at him, still cradling Laini’s huge head in her arms. “Are you sure you can leave right now?”
Heath hesitated, and Tamri braced herself for disappointment. The dragons were Heath’s life, after all, and they needed him. Almost as much as Gramma Teall needed Tamri. But she had no idea how she’d complete her journey without Laini and Heath.
She drew a deep breath. “You don’t have to—”
“I’m still coming with you,” Heath said.
Relief spun through her with dizzying speed. “It’s okay if you change your mind.”
“I won’t.” Heath tucked his Fire cudgel back in his belt and started toward the dragons. “I have work to do now, though. Be ready to leave at dawn.”
4
The walls of the Royal Palace shimmered like pearl as the storm lifted. Princess Selivia crossed the broad avenue in front of the gates, supporting Latch by the elbow in case his balance failed. Her betrothed had endured the long hours of discussion—and interrogation—with admirable stoicism, but he leaned heavily on her now. Selivia’s bodyguard Fenn shadowed them at a moderate distance, alert for any threats that might lurk in the alleys of Sharoth.
Selivia had refrained from holding Latch upright where the others could see. Showing weakness around Prince Chadrech in particular would be a mistake, even though they were allies. Selivia had feared the whole alliance would collapse when Latch revealed the gaps in his memory.
She rolled her shoulders, trying to alleviate the stiffness in her muscles after hours of nervous tension.
“You okay?” Latch said.
“Oh, yes. That went well, all things considered.” Selivia tried to force a bit of brightness into her tone. “I think the storm is over. Look at those beautiful clouds! What a pretty shade of blue.”
Latch slowed. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend everything is going to be okay all the time,” Latch said. “You’ve been doing a great job of keeping my spirits up over the past few weeks. But you really don’t have to.”
Selivia blinked. She had been trying to keep things light and cheerful. In truth, Latch’s memory loss distressed her more than she wanted to admit. Huge chunks of their relationship were now missing, as far as Latch was concerned, and she didn’t know if they’d ever get them back. She’d been pretending everything was okay for her own sake as much as for his.
Footsteps splashed behind them. They turned as Dara jogged out of the Royal Archives, her head bare and her eyes focused on the route ahead.
“Is she going for a run?” Latch said.
“She hates being cooped up,” Selivia said, grateful for the change of subject. Dara waved briskly to them and Fenn and disappeared around the corner. “Paperwork is her least favorite part of being queen, and research is even worse.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Latch said.
“The studying is growing on me,” Selivia said. “It really is interesting to read what all those old scholars had to say about the magical substances. And the newer research is fascinating.”
“I wish I could remember my own discoveries,” Latch said. “I might be more useful then.”
Many of the documents they’d gone over today were written in Latch’s hand, yet he’d looked at them as if they contained stunning new revelations. It must sting to suddenly be less informed than everyone else about the subject that had been Latch’s passion for years.
Selivia squeezed his arm. “Now that you’re better, we’ll find a solution in no time.”
Latch’s mouth twitched. “There you go sounding optimistic again.”
“I’m not pretending,” Selivia said. “We have to succeed. It’s as simple as that.”
They reached the palace gates as stray beams of early evening light stole a path through the clouds. The pearlescent gleam of the rain-washed walls really was lovely. A few weeks ago, Selivia had been on the verge of despair as her betrothed was consumed by a power she could neither understand nor access. He’d become irritable and distant, wholly absorbed in the Lightning. Their problems may not be over, but at least Latch was his usual thoughtful, courteous self again. Even the weather looked better than it had for most of the day. Selivia felt confident that everything would be fine.
Then they walked through the gates and found the palace in chaos.
People dashed about the courtyard or gathered in eager clusters beneath the porticos. The clamor of agitated voices filled the air. The Soolens, generally a reserved people, were fluttering around like hens who’d just spotted a povvercat. Fenn moved closer to Selivia, her hand going to her sword hilt. The stoic bodyguard had become extra protective ever since Prince Chadrech separated them back on Thunderbird Island.
Selivia flagged down a passing steward, an imperious older woman named Piersha. “What’s going on?”
“It’s those beasts in the gardens, my lady,” Piersha said. “They turned on their keeper.”
“What?”
“Not their keeper,” called a noblewoman named Lady Nille, huddling beneath a blue umbrella nearby. “Each other. The dragons tried to eat each other.”
“They don’t do that.” Soole was close enough to Cindral Forest that its people ought to know more about dragons. The creatures ate mammals, fish, and even birds when they could catch them. But they were not cannibals.