Even with magic, with knives—even if I’d still wielded my Balisarda—we couldn’t hope to defend ourselves against a dragon. We had to flee. Now. While we still had a chance. We just needed a diversion. Quickly, I pulled at the golden web of patterns. Something loud. Something big. Something to slow the beast as we sprinted for the cliff. Could I fell a tree? A forest of trees? Yes. A cage of wood for—

For a fire-breathing dragon.

I closed my eyes. Fuck.

But I was out of time. It’d have to do. Bracing myself for the consequences, I gathered the golden cords in my hand. Before I could pull, however, the dragon snorted, and fresh smoke engulfed us. I glanced up. Spotted a miniature flame through the haze. My eyes narrowed as I looked closer, harder. It wasn’t flame at all, but hair. Red hair. A person.

Seraphine smiled down at me from the dragon’s back.

The earth shook as it landed with another roar, tossing its great head. Between one blink and the next, its horns unraveled into lavender curls, and its tail rippled into black satin. Reptilian eyes blinked to brown. Amethyst scales smoothed to skin.

“Thierry.” Voice low and hoarse, Zenna caught Seraphine in her arms, transformation complete, before placing her swiftly on her feet. They both hurried toward their fellow troupe member. I gaped at them. We all did. Even Nicholina.

Zenna. Seraphine. He reached them just as Seraphine extended her arms, and he lifted her from the ground to spin her in a circle. You’re here.

“So are you.” Zenna didn’t look pleased. “Imagine our surprise when Claud sensed you at last—in northern Belterra, of all places. Not the tunnels we’d been searching for weeks.” She seized one of his hands. “We’ve been worried sick, Thierry. Care to tell us where you’ve been? Where is Toulouse?”

Thierry’s face fell.

I pushed myself to my feet, pulling Nicholina up with me. “You—you’re—”

“A dragon, yes.” Zenna heaved a long-suffering sigh, and smoke curled from her nostrils. After inspecting Thierry one last time, she casually wiped the blood from her lips. She’d painted them gold today. They matched the blooms embroidered on her gown. “Bonjour, Mort Rouge. Shall we all digest together? Go ahead. Take a moment.”

“It’s going to take a hell of a lot longer than a moment.” Beau staggered upright and dusted off his trousers in vain. “This is—I can’t believe—we shared the same bed, and you never told me? I slept with a dragon!” He whirled to face me as if I hadn’t heard him, arms splayed wide. “An actual dragon!”

Coco stood faster than humanly possible. “You what?”