“I will never go back there,” Bellona had told him harshly. “I would see your mother everywhere.” And then she had looked at him—something she rarely did, for she couldn’t stand the sight of him—and she had brushed back the hair from his forehead. “That will be your task, Ven.”

Ven. Vengeance. He had forgotten her words about “his task” until now. Even dead, she added to his burden.

Brother and sister walked through the “palace” in silence. He could tell by the flush on her face and the tight line of her lips that Sorrow was still angry with him. The high color on her cheeks faded, after time—when he didn’t say anything more—and she smiled at him.

“Are you teasing me?” she asked. “About Grald? I’ve heard it’s something humans do to each other. Teasing.”

Ven might have been accused of many failings in his life, but teasing people was not one of them. He didn’t know how to answer, and so he kept silent. Sorrow took his silence for acquiescence. “Just don’t say anything to the little ones, will you? I don’t want them confused.”

“I won’t,” Ven agreed. He had no intention of getting that well acquainted with the “little ones” anyway.

All this time, he and his sister had been walking through the “palace,” traveling up and down corridors and tunnels that crossed and crisscrossed, sometimes opening into chambers that were small and cozy and sometimes opening into vast, cavernous halls. They saw many of the human soldiers, as these men and women traversed the lair. When they passed these soldiers, the humans would bow to Sorrow, as ordinary humans might bow to Prince Marcus, treating her with marked respect and reverence. She received their obeisance and murmured greetings with careless dignity, making it clear that this was her due and she expected nothing less. The same respect and reverence extended to Ven, but he was as uncomfortable with it down here as he was in the world outside.

He saw, too, that the children of the dragon did not mingle with their distant cousins—the humans who had the dragon-blood in their veins, but no scales on their bodies. The children of the dragon had their own living quarters that were set apart from those of the human soldiers. If the two met, the Children held themselves aloof. Once on their tour, Sorrow came upon one of the dragon-children playing with a human. She grabbed hold of the arm of the dragon-child and hauled him off to a dark corner and scolded him roundly, then sent him off to play with his own kind.

“The only humans allowed in our part of the palace are the mothers. Those who bear us.”

“I want to see them,” said Ven, the first words he’d spoken almost since they started.