Except that was exactly what happened, or so his monks reported back to Grald. Marcus had been cornered, trapped like the proverbial rat with his back against the wall. Exhausted and wounded, he could not even put up much of a fight. The human female with him had no magic and was no threat. Suddenly, without warning, Marcus walked straight through the solid rock wall and he took the girl with him.

The monks were baffled. Grald was not.

“This proves it. Draconas is responsible,” he said accusingly to Anora. “You bungled the job.”

Disguised in their respective human forms—Grald in the body of a large, hulking human male, and Anora in the body of a holy sister—the two dragons surveyed the midst of the ruins left by the horrific blast that had wiped out an entire city block.

“Then why haven’t we seen his colors?” Anora demanded, frustrated and baffled. “If his mind is alive and active and reaching out to help Melisande’s son, we would know it, for we have been watching for him. He could not hide from us.”

“Someone reached out to aid Melisande’s son,” Grald muttered, kicking at a chunk of stone and sending it rolling. “Someone opened the gate for him. The prince could not do that by himself.”

“What about your son? Ven?”

“What about him?” Grald growled.

“He was with his brother and that female. He could have opened the gate and helped them escape.”

Grald snorted. “Ven hates his brother, and why not? His brother is handsome, rich, educated, and has two human legs, not two dragon ones. And Ven lusts after the girl who was with Marcus. Ven would not have permitted her to flee, especially in the company of a brother he detests. Besides, the monks theorize that Ven was injured. They think the blood was his. And, his mind remains closed to me.”

“He is cagey, that one. Because he has not used the dragon-magic, his mind has no colors, like a barren field blanketed in heavy snow. Except the field is not as barren as we suppose. He has learned how to mask his thoughts from us. Where is he now? Do you know? If he’s wounded, he couldn’t have gone far.”

“My monks continue to search for him.”

“By my wings and tail, we seem to have lost everyone this morning!” Anora ground her teeth in frustration.

“If you had struck Draconas from behind, slain him immediately, as I suggested, then we would not be in this mess. You had to treat yourself to your little fillip of victory Let him know who you were—”

“Do not tell me how to fight my battles!” Anora snarled, rounding on Grald. “You have lived in that stolen body so long you do not remember what it is like to live in a body such as that inhabited by Draconas, a body created by a supreme illusion.”