Eventually, Lord Whimsitt and the knights would do something. They would have to, for the dragon was not likely to stop again so soon after being woken from its sleep—at some point the dragon would attack the castle again.

But it would attack more villages first. Aberfarthing was the closest settlement to its lair, but the destruction would spread, and the beast would visit its wrath upon countless people unable to fight back. Any who survived would be like those women who had come to the dragon bonfire seeking aid—penniless, terrified, with no means or homes to return to.

Gwen found a torch among the mining supplies strewn about the clearing, and after a few too many tries with her flint, got the thing lit despite her shaking hands. The light of the flame against the mountainside flickered and wavered far too much.

Gwen retrieved her helmet from Achilles’s saddle, but she left the spear. It was a weapon for use on horseback, far too long and heavy for Gwen to use in the tight confines of the mines. If she could find the beast and catch it unawares, inside the tunnels, she had a chance—if the dragon managed to get outside, the odds slid wildly in its favor.

Gwen pulled the helmet down onto her head, drew her sword, and stepped into the darkness.

Her breath was harsh and metallic against her visor, too loud to her own ears in the heavy silence of the underground. The tunnel sloped sharply downward and bent back on itself, so that the exit was swiftly out of sight, leaving Gwen wrapped entirely in stone and the meager, wavering glow from her torch. Twin ruts in the rocky floor marked the tracks of the mine carts, so she followed those down, ignoring the occasional side passages that opened up in favor of moving deeper into the earth.

Something dry and leathery whispered above and just behind her. Gwen jumped and nearly dropped the torch, even as she shut her eyes and told herself, Bats. It’s bats. It’s only bats, stop cowering!

The sharp pounding in her chest made her stop, turn, and lean back against the wall, trying to catch her breath. Despite having seen the beast flying overhead at the tournament, Gwen was not entirely prepared for how desperately afraid she felt. The fear was like a monster in itself, infecting her moment by moment, replacing her strong limbs with ones that shook and weakening the fingers clutched round the hilt of her sword.