*
A serpentine figure paced in the darkness, hissing softly.
Below her mountain ledge, in a hidden valley, hints of firelight flickered in windows, most of them covered with black curtains.
Blister narrowed her eyes at the scavenger den. Why did Morrowseer think she would care about a rat’s nest full of crawling, squeaking, pale, two-legged creatures? She wasn’t hungry. She didn’t even feel like burning down their pathetic little huts. She was too angry.
A whisper of wings on the wind made her twist around, tail poised to attack.
But it wasn’t an enemy, and it wasn’t Morrowseer. It was that spineless leader of the Talons of Peace, the SeaWing. And he had someone with him. She squinted as they landed.
“Forgive my lateness, Queen Blister,” Nautilus said with a bow.
“Where is Morrowseer?” she demanded.
“I — I don’t know,” he stammered. “I thought he would be here by now. I haven’t seen him since he took the alternate dragonets from the Talons of Peace camp. But I knew he was supposed to be here to meet you tonight, and I had to speak with him.” He squared his shoulders, obviously trying to look braver than he felt.
“Well, he’s not here,” Blister spat. “Who is that?”
Nautilus drew the dragonet forward, keeping one wing around him. It was another SeaWing, stunted and green and shivering.
“My son,” Nautilus said quietly, touching the dragonet’s head. “Squid. Morrowseer left him to die in the mountains, but, by a miracle, one of our spies found him first.” His eyes were cold and glittering in the light of the two moons that were full overhead.
“I hate NightWings,” Squid mumbled.
“I rather hate them, too,” Blister agreed. She’d always been irritated by this arrangement with Morrowseer — these meetings he called, at his choice of time and place, with no way for her to contact him in between. An alliance with the NightWings and control of the prophecy dragonets should make all this annoyance worthwhile … but so far she wasn’t getting any of what she’d been promised.
Worse yet, it almost seemed as if she was losing allies. Her small band of SandWings, hidden away safely in the Bay of a Thousand Scales, were loyal, of course. She controlled them with careful precision, knowing every move they made and every thought they had. She tricked them all into spying on one another by making each one think he or she was in an exclusive elite who reported secretly to her. And any hint of insubordination or weakness was instantly punished with death.
But the alliance she’d formed years ago with the SeaWings had slipped through her claws like ice melting. After the destruction of the Summer Palace, Queen Coral had fled with her tribe to their secret underwater home, and no one had seen her or any other SeaWings since. Blister had gone to the wrecked Summer Palace almost every day since the attack, but there were no messages, no dragons waiting to tell her what was happening, no apologetic scrolls from the SeaWing queen.
And if Morrowseer didn’t show up, then what would she do? She had no idea where the NightWing island was. No way to send him a message. In effect, no NightWing allies to speak of.
Maybe she did feel like setting a scavenger den on fire after all.
Nautilus sat with his wings wrapped around Squid, brooding. His glow-in-the-dark scales flashed dimly, as if he were telling his son something private, over and over again.
“If Morrowseer doesn’t show up,” Blister said, “I have a strong suspicion I know whose fault it is.”
The SeaWings both looked up, surprised.
“The dragonets,” she hissed. “Not this weakling. The originals. They’ve been nothing but trouble since they escaped their captors.”
Nautilus winced. “We called them ‘guardians,’” he said. “But you’re right. Everywhere the dragonets go, they seem to leave chaos behind.”
“Well, they’ve caused trouble for the wrong dragon,” Blister snarled. She glowered down at the slumbering scavenger den, her claws twitching with dreams of revenge. “Wherever they are, I will hunt them down. I will find them and then, prophecy or no prophecy … I’m going to kill them all.”
*
The sun was hot and blistering, beating down on the sand around the stronghold as the squadron of SandWings landed in the courtyard. The smell of the decapitated heads on the walls was stronger than usual. Burn inhaled deeply. She enjoyed the decaying scent, but mostly she enjoyed the unnerved looks on her soldiers’ faces every time she did that.
A dragon stepped out of the great hall, darting across the hot stones toward her. The black diamond patterns on his wings always reminded Burn of Blister, so it was difficult not to glare at her brother every time she saw him. But he was used to that.
“I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow,” Smolder said. His forked tongue flicked in and out.