The ladies-in-waiting and most of the serving staff departed, Axe-Face among them, to Evelina’s joy. Her Majesty had not been at all pleased to hear Evelina’s refusal to leave and was going to order her away even if it meant tying her to a horse. Before that could happen, however, the king and his knights and soldiers and Marcus arrived at the castle, turning everything upside down. King and Queen had far more urgent matters on their minds than Evelina.

She was on her own, free to do as she pleased. Overlooked in the turmoil, Evelina was forgotten.

She recalled one of her dear, departed Papa’s maxims. “Wars are for fools who want to be heroes. The sensible man will have nothing to do with them. At the first sound of the trumpet, look to yourself.”

Considering this sound advice, Evelina began to make plans.

38

KING EDWARD AND HIS FORCES SAW NO SIGN OF THE DRAGON ARMY on the road from Aston Castle to Ramsgate. Marcus could not find them, and Draconas remained unable to locate them. City and castle braced for an assault. A week passed and none came. No army laid siege to the walls. No enemy appeared at the gates.

People can remain in a high state of tension and excitement for only so long. When the threat that they’d been promised did not materialize, those who had fled returned to their homes, reopened their shops, and grumbled about how much money they’d lost. Smart young apprentices now scoffed at the tales of demon warriors. Only a week ago, they’d been shaking beneath the bed covers or on their knees in church.

Edward wasn’t scoffing. His tension did not diminish, nor did that of his commanders or the soldiers who had seen with their own eyes the terror of the enemy.

“They’re letting us stew in our juices, sire,” said Gunderson. “They’re not through with us yet.”

Far from relaxing his vigilance, Edward redoubled the guards on the walls and drilled the gunners on a daily basis.

The peaceful interlude gave Marcus a chance to rest from a journey that, despite Draconas’s healing touch, had been difficult. The dragon-magic had mended the broken bones enough so that it no longer felt like someone was stabbing him every time he drew a breath. But he was still sore, and the rattling and bouncing of the wagon over the rough roads added to his discomfort. He endured the pain without complaint, afraid that his father might stop if he said anything—and at this point, Marcus’s mental distress was far worse than his physical.