Tarik lifted the iron claw away from Isobel’s arm, revealing a hand-sized, blistered patch of skin. Isobel continued sobbing; if she hadn’t been supported by her guards, she would have collapsed.

Palemon nodded at the soldiers. ‘Take her away.’

Dion called out to her, but she didn’t respond to any of his cries. Then she was gone.

‘Where are you taking her?’ he demanded.

‘We will keep her safe and we won’t harm her further,’ Palemon said. ‘Provided you do as we ask.’

Looking through the bars at the tall king from across the sea, Dion knew that it was coming now. They were going to tell him why they’d gone to such lengths to capture Isobel and bend him to their will. What would it be? Would they ask him to betray his people, his friends?

‘What do you want?’ Dion asked through gritted teeth.

Palemon tugged on the braids of his beard. ‘Most of all, as you know, we want ships.’

Dion met Palemon’s dark eyes. ‘You must know that no matter what you do to us, Xanthos would never give up its fleet. Whatever your plans are, they won’t succeed.’

‘I thought as much,’ Palemon said, nodding. ‘But as for our plans, you don’t even know the half of it. Sorceress?’

‘We first need to test the most basic element of our theory,’ Zara mused. ‘We need to know that he won’t turn wild.’ She considered for a time and then looked directly at Dion. ‘We need you to change into dragon form.’

Dion blinked, confused. A moment later Tarik threw the bolt and hauled the gate open before entering the cage. Dion looked warily at the magus, knowing he had to be as strong as he’d asked Isobel to be.

Tarik put his fingers on the clasp holding the collar shut and Dion felt a flash of heat on his neck before the collar slid open. The magus then took the collar with him and left the cell, closing the gate once again.

‘Well?’ Palemon’s eyes narrowed. ‘You heard the sorceress. Change.’

Dion realized he had no choice. ‘For how long?’

‘Until we say.’ The sorceress stepped forward, the light from her staff shining on her pale face. ‘If you cannot change, you are of no use to us.’

It was difficult, but Dion drew on his wild emotions of frustration, fear, and rage, to bring on the animal side within. He imagined himself as a winged creature and then came the familiar sensation of shifting.

Mist filled the cell, thickening until it coated him like a blanket of cloud, elongating and changing shape. The mist flickered like the shimmer of heat rising from the earth on a hot day, and suddenly dispersed.

Then he knew it was done.

Now a black-scaled dragon, Dion raised his angular, wedge-shaped head. He folded his wings, shook his long body, and snarled.