The king’s army set out beneath a gray sky, for the rain that had soaked Evelina the day before continued to fall and, according to the weather-watchers, was likely to fall all that day. They rode with their hats pulled low to keep the rainwater out of their eyes. The bright-colored standards flapped sullenly in wind gusts that drove the cold rain into their faces. There was no talking among the knights or jesting or boasting of past deeds of glory. The bad weather probably had much to do with this, though Marcus felt their silence was darker and more sinister.

He had been present when his father had tried to explain the nature of this enemy to a few trusted knights. Some were professional soldiers, others landed nobles; all were friends and comrades of the king, men who had known Marcus all his life. He saw the shock and incredulity in their eyes as his father told them, in a calm and steady voice, about the kingdom hidden by dragon-magic, about warriors who wielded magic given to them by dragons. A few knew the king well enough to voice their skepticism aloud, asking how Edward knew all this, and—when he mentioned his son—their incredulity hardened to disbelief.

Most of these men thought privately—and some muttered aloud—that they were being led on a wild goose chase by a lunatic.

Marcus began to wonder himself if this was true. He had lied to his father. He hadn’t actually seen this army of dragon warriors with his own eyes, though he’d assured Edward he had. Marcus had seen them with his mind’s eye. As a child, he’d seen many terrible and wonderful sights with that eye, sights that had been the dreams of dragons. What if this was a dragon’s dream? Or a drunkard’s dream? Whenever Marcus thought of Evelina and the wine, he flushed in shame. What if the army marched all this way and found nothing at the end?

True, Draconas had confirmed what he’d seen, but Draconas was a dragon, and could he be trusted? He’d as much as admitted that he’d taken Marcus to Dragonkeep as bait in order to lure out the dragon. And he’d made it clear that what he did, he did for love of his own kind, not for love of humans. Perhaps Draconas was playing his own game.