“All right.” Reaching down, Riley grabbed the edge of the canvas Ember was sprawled on top of and began tugging it free. “Do it, but hurry up.”

I turned in my seat and watched the desert flash by. Watched the pavement stretch on, until a lone gas station appeared on the side of the road, shimmering in the near distance. My apprehension grew. It was not a tiny little outpost in the middle of nowhere. It was a huge truck stop with a restaurant and mini-mart attached, and there was a crowd. I glanced back as Riley gently peeled one of Ember’s wings from the wall and folded it carefully against her body before pulling the canvas over her. Her tail and the tips of her claws poked out, but at least she wasn’t as blatantly noticeable as before. Still, if anyone got too close, they would immediately know something large, scaly and inhuman was sprawled on the floor of the van.

We pulled up to one of the pumps, and Wes leaped out and slammed the door behind him, leaving the keys in the ignition. I scanned the station warily, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary; families wandering back to their cars, a couple large trucks sitting off to the side. No soldiers, black SUVs or anything that belonged to the Order. So far, so good.

Wes wrenched the pump off the handle, shoved it into the tank to start the flow of gas, then went hurrying into the store. I scanned the area once more before glancing at the two dragons behind me.

“You’re not part of Talon,” I confirmed, as Riley smoothed the canvas over Ember, covering the exposed parts as best he could. It was a strange concept. All dragons, we were told, belonged to Talon, the huge dragon organization that spanned the globe. Banded together, working together, to overthrow mankind. I’d never thought there could be discontents.

But then, I’d never thought I could befriend a dragon, either. Or that she would risk her life to save mine.

Riley, tugging a corner over Ember’s front claws, gave a snort.

“No.”

I waited, but he didn’t offer any further explanation. But there was something there, an undercurrent of disgust that wasn’t pointed entirely at me, but at Talon. Curiosity prickled. And guilt. Here was one more fact about dragons that the Order had gotten wrong. This dragon wasn’t part of the organization; in fact, he seemed to despise it. How gravely was the Order mistaken when it came to our ancient enemies? And how many lives had I taken, because I believed we were doing the right thing?

“If you’re not part of Talon,” I ventured, “who are you with?”

“Myself.” Again that clipped, brusque reply. Somehow, it didn’t surprise me.