The morning of the second day dawned without a sign of the king’s men. Tisala tossed an icy handful of creek water over her face, hoping to wake up. While she was wiping her face, several horses cried out a warning—then it sounded as if every animal in the camp went mad.

Feather,she thought. Even if she hadn’t seen Ward with his horses, the guards’ attitude would have made it plain that Feather was precious to him. The last thing Tisala wanted to do was to explain how she’d let the mare get hurt.

She found Feather at her picket rolling her eyes at the other animals, though not unduly alarmed. The rest of the horses were kicking and fighting as if they were dragon-frighted. Feather’d broken out in a light sweat, but calmed at a few soft words.

The worst disaster averted, Tisala turned to see what had caused the fuss, expecting to see a bear or even one of the great mountain cats.

The blood rushed from her head and she swayed against the mare. Dragon-frighted, indeed. There in the midst of their half-packed tents and scrambling men stood a creature that could only be a dragon.

It was a huge and glittering creature in every shade of blue and violet she’d ever seen. The dark midnight blue on its extremities faded to violet-rose glinting with iridescence like a sea-pearl. The bony structures of its half-furled wings were black and shiny with faint patterns of gold that carried through on the lavender scaled membrane that made up the bulk of the wings. Light purple-blue eyes contrasted the irregular, dark blue scales of its face.

Tosten stood alone in front of it, his fists clenched as he shouted at it. As soon as Tisala realized that everyone else was fighting horses or scattered too far away to help him, she drew her sword, leaving Feather where she was tied. The dragon’s attention was on Tosten, so Tisala advanced at a walk. It hadn’t done anything yet and she didn’t want to incite it.

She’d crossed half the distance between them when she heard what Tosten was saying.

“. . . not here!” Hot anger threaded his voice, though she hadn’t misread the fear on his face. “No one is supposed to know! It’s too dangerous: You know what Ward says. There are a hundred people here—someone will talk. Do you want to be hunted by a thousand want-to-be mages who are after your magic?”

Tisala stopped where she was. This was, it seemed, a private conversation for all that Tosten was shouting at the top of his lungs.

The dragon’s head snaked forward with deadly swiftness and Tosten’s hair parted from its breath. Ward’s brother paled but held his ground.