“We’re making you ready to travel, Your Highness,” said the physician, his mouth pursed and his face pinched. “His Majesty’s command. Against my advice.” He sniffed again. “If this journey kills you, Your Highness, don’t blame me!”

“I won’t,” Marcus promised, jubilant.

They filled a wagon with straw, hoping to cushion the journey for Marcus as much as possible. The roads were rough. He would be bounced and jolted unmercifully. To protect him, the physician wrapped Marcus in so many layers of bandages that they would have probably stopped an arrow better than plate armor. The leech handed him a cup filled with a honey posset, liberally spiked with poppy syrup. Marcus eyed it, but didn’t immediately drink it. He knew he would probably need it eventually, but he didn’t like the feeling it gave him of stumbling about in a dreamy haze.

Though the physician had warned against movement, Marcus forced himself up and out of bed, grimacing not only at the pain of his injuries but also at trying to move while swaddled like a newborn. He was struggling into a shirt, trying to pull it over his head with one good arm and his teeth, when he felt a hand touch him. Warmth flowed through his body. Warmth that healed, not dulled.

Marcus couldn’t see—the shirt was over his face—but he recognized the touch.

“Draconas,” he said, thankfully. “Where did you spring from?”

“Hell—if you believe the gossip that is running rampant through your populace,” Draconas replied grimly. “Hold still and let me work my magic on you. I can only give you ease. I cannot heal you fully. There is not time.”

“Thank you for that, at least.”

“Don’t thank me. My motives are purely selfish. I need you and I can’t have you dying on me.”

“At least you’re honest.” Marcus managed to poke his head up out of the shirt collar. “Now that you’re here, you should speak with Father—”

“I haven’t time. Besides, Edward does not trust me much, and he’s going to trust me less after he hears the news I bring. I cannot find the dragon army.”

Marcus paused with his arm half in and half out of the sleeve. “What? I don’t understand. You should be able to see them clearly from the sky.”

“You are right. I should be able to see the army from the air, but I can’t. I have spent the night searching for them. My dragon eyes should be able to detect them, even in the dark. I know they are out there, but I cannot find them. And it is not due to Maristara.