In the center of the courtyard, opposite the palace entrance, stood an odd kind of monument: a tall black obelisk surrounded by a circle of sand wider than a large dragon’s wingspan. Words were carved into the sides, with the letters all painted in gold, but Sunny couldn’t read them from where she was.
The old palace within the walls was a lot more elegant than the parts Burn had added. There were slender towers and windows as tall as dragons and high pavilion landing platforms topped with domes and spires. Shapes were carved all over the stone — lizards and desert birds and suns, mostly, as far as Sunny could see at first glance. It made the palace look for a moment as though it was crawling with life or shimmering with heat — an unsettling illusion of motion, probably intended to make visitors uncomfortable.
The doors were open to the huge front entrance of the palace, and Sunny realized with a start that a dragon was standing just on the edge of the sunlight, staring out at her from the shadow.
Her heart plunged as she thought, Burn, and then the dragon moved and she glimpsed black diamond shapes on the scales. With an even stronger burst of fear, she thought, Blister? How could Blister be here?
And then the dragon stepped into the light and she realized he was male, and not one of the three SandWing sisters after all.
He still looked horribly like Blister, though. He had the same narrow face and lidded dark eyes, the same black patterns on his pale yellow scales. His poisonous tail barb slithered along the stones behind him and his sharp claws made a tapping sound as he advanced toward them. He wore a cluster of keys and pouches and bells on chains around his neck that clinked and jingled slightly as he walked. Some of them were plain iron, while others flashed with jewels or gold plating.
Addax bowed his head respectfully.
“Smolder,” he said, “I’ve brought a gift for Queen Burn.”
“I see,” Smolder said. Sunny felt a little better; his voice didn’t have the oozing, creeping, sinister quality of Blister’s voice. He sounded just … normal, like one of her friends. “Who are you?” he asked her, and she liked that, too, that he spoke directly to her instead of over her head as though she was nothing but a piece of treasure.
“My name’s Sunny,” she answered. “Who are you?”
“I’m … the brother,” Smolder said, and something in his expression said he had many thoughts about that, but wouldn’t risk going into detail.
“Burn’s brother? The only one?” Sunny asked, trying to remember what she’d read about the SandWing royal family.
“There used to be three of us, but the other two made the wrong dragons mad.” He grimaced.
“The wrong dragons meaning your sisters,” Sunny guessed. “So you’re on Burn’s side?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he said, and it occurred to her that that wasn’t much of an enthusiastic yes.
“Where is Queen Burn?” Addax cut in abruptly.
“She is not at home at the moment,” Smolder said. He spread one wing and beckoned Sunny toward the main entrance. “She’s out looking for a certain quintet of young dragons.”
Sunny stopped, looking up at him with a shiver. If Burn was searching for her friends instead of fighting battles, she must really want to destroy them.
“Wait,” Addax said. “I want to see her — I mean, this is my prisoner — she’s one of the ones in the prophecy —”
“I know. I’ll take it from here,” Smolder said firmly. “You can wait in the barracks until she returns.” He nodded at the courtyard. “Don’t worry, you’ll get all your pardons and your reinstatement.” He flared his wing across Sunny’s back and ushered her forward again.
“But … my reward …” Addax’s voice trailed off as Sunny and Smolder stepped out of the bright sunlight into the cool shadows of a vast hall, big enough for a hundred dragons. Far overhead, large fans shaped like dragon wings beat the air, and Sunny spotted a few small dragons pulling on ropes to keep them moving. Tapestries woven in blues and golds and white covered the walls, echoing some of the same patterns in the stonework outside, and airy white curtains billowed at the long windows. A heavy table ran down the middle of the hall, loaded with food, and Sunny heard her stomach grumble.
“Take anything you like,” Smolder said.
“No, thank you,” Sunny answered politely. It seemed unlikely that the entire table of food was poisoned, but she didn’t intend to make killing her any easier than it already would be. She tilted her head to study the tapestry closest to her and realized that the odd pattern of rust-colored spots on it was actually dried spatters of blood.
“The food is for the soldiers,” Smolder said, sounding amused. “I promise it’s safe to eat.”