The monk who had jumped into the river spoke up. “I heard that the dragon did not open the gate because he feared that the man we’ve been told to find—the one Grald calls ‘Draconas’— would be lost to him.”

Ven’s ears pricked. He wanted to hear more. Unfortunately, the monks now began walking back toward the city. Ven cursed them a second time. His dragon-blood gave him the ability to hear better than humans, and he stretched his ears to the limit.

“Grald finally did open the gate,” another monk argued. “So this Draconas must have been caught.”

“He wasn’t,” said the leader. “We have been told to keep searching for this man. Either for him or for his corpse. It seems that it was this Draconas who caused the terrible blast. They still don’t know how many are dead.”

“Why would he do that?” The monk sounded shocked.

“Because he is our enemy. Sent to destroy us.”

“Who sent him?” The other two monks were eager listeners now, avid for news.

“The human king who has long been a threat to us. Edward, the king of a nation known as Idylswylde. You mark my words. This means war.”

War against Idylswylde. War against Marcus and his father. Ven tried to picture an army of mad monks, and it was so ludicrous that he snorted in derision.

He was much more interested in finding out what had happened to Draconas.

Ven remembered the horrific blast. It had reduced the house in which he and Marcus and Evelina had been to rubble and allowed Marcus and Evelina to escape. Draconas had caused the blast and Grald was hunting for him. Which meant Draconas must still be alive.

Once the monks were well out of earshot, Ven made his way back to the city, hoping to reach it before anyone noticed that he’d been gone.

3

ANORA FOUGHT THROUGH A MIASMA OF BLACK ANGER AND Grald’s raging mixed with her own pain and blank confusion. She was flat on the floor, lying amidst a heap of cracked stones and splintered, smoldering timbers. Clouds of dust and smoke obscured her vision. She coughed and shook her head to clear it of the throbbing and Grald’s yammering.

“What have you done?” He was howling, furious. His colors reverberated inside her aching skull. “You have destroyed half the city and nearly killed me in the process! And my son? What has become of my son?”

Anora ignored him. She tried to remember. Draconas! What had become of Draconas? She leapt to her feet and glanced swiftly about the wreckage of the building. His body must be here somewhere. He could not have escaped her. He should be dead— human bones and flesh burned beyond recognition.