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Chapters (46)
  1. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  2. PROLOGUE
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. EPILOGUE

Which would leave her clothes sopping wet. She couldn’t put them back on. She might catch her death of cold.

Which meant that she and Marcus couldn’t very well continue their journey.

Not with her having nothing whatsoever to wear . . .

2

STANDING WAIST DEEP IN THE WATER, WATCHING THE BOAT CARRYING Bellona’s body drift downstream, Ven turned to wade back to shore. Glancing down, he saw a thin trail of blood snaking out into the water and meandering downstream. The stab wound had reopened.

Evelina had struck in haste. The knife had glanced off bone, avoiding any organs. He’d lost a lot of blood, however, and he’d lost more blood when he’d slipped out of the city of Dragonkeep to pay his last respects to the woman who had raised him and, in her own strange way, loved him. His dragon-blood had acted promptly to start the healing process, and the wound had already partially closed. He must have torn it open during his strenuous exertions—carrying Bellona’s body to the river, placing it in a boat, and casting the boat adrift, freeing her spirit to join the spirit of her life’s love, Melisande—Ven’s mother.

The chill of the water had kept him from noticing. The dragon-magic seemed slower to heal the wound this time. Perhaps the magical power inside him was growing weaker as he grew weaker. He needed to return to Dragonkeep quickly, before he collapsed. It would never do for him to be found outside the city walls.

Emerging from the water onto the slippery bank, he dug his claws into the mud to keep his footing and it was then he saw the footprints. Two sets, fresh: one set small, made by slippered feet; the other larger, wearing boots. He couldn’t spare the time to investigate—every moment he was away was a moment his absence might be discovered. Yet, he could not help but follow the footprints with his tracker’s eye to try to deduce where they had gone, the two he was risking his life to save—his half-brother, Marcus, and Evelina, the young woman who had stabbed him.

Marcus had been back and forth to the water’s edge several times, dragging heavy objects along with him. Ven recalled the boats used by the monks stacked on the shore. There were none there now. He could picture Marcus dragging down one boat after another, shoving each out into the river to float away downstream. Marcus would, of course, have kept one of the boats for himself and Evelina.

Ven looked back at the river, at the bright noon sun glittering on the water. He could imagine the two of them in the boat, Marcus rowing, fearful of pursuit. Evelina sitting in the stern, gazing at Marcus with adoration.