Senera snapped out her hands and gestured—and the ground next to Morios surged forward, making a ramp.

Janel sprinted up it and leaped, both hands on Khoreval. She aimed the spear straight for Morios’s eye.

Her thrust hit true. She felt the quicksilver metal of his eye give, then shatter as the spear drove deep. Morios roared, the sound loud enough to send a nightmarish stab of pain through her skull. He began tossing his head backward, ripping away chunks of scales and whatever passed for flesh on his body.

Janel faced a choice: either hold on to the spear and let herself be tossed a lethal distance into the air, or let go and fall a much shorter distance to the ground. Tyentso might be able to catch her. Maybe.

She chose the latter.

Janel felt her leg break as she landed, a searing snap of pain.

The dragon roared, and then roared again, and then kept making the noise, rhythmically.

Morios was laughing.

“Brilliant! I love it!” Morios pulled Khoreval from his eye. “This is the most fun I’ve had in millennia!”

Then the dragon snapped the spear in two.

59: THREE BRANCHES

Atrine, Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Three days since everyone in a busy tavern failed to notice the emperor among them

Kihrin sat down on the throne and leaned back. “So … how are the nightmares treating you two?”

Both Thurvishar and Brother Qown raised their heads, looking surprised.

After a long, awkward pause, Brother Qown said, “Awful. I dream of caves filled with families who are choking to death or melting. Or choking to death and melting.”

“I told you not to research Quuros war curses.” Thurvishar shook his head. “I dream of Gadrith. It’s so hard to believe I’m finally free of the man.”

Brother Qown, who had been pacing around the throne room, looking at the mud-caked statues, turned to Thurvishar. “I’m curious about something. Relos Var once told me the only reason he didn’t kill Gadrith was because the man had something that belonged to him. And while Gadrith did, Relos wouldn’t move against him. So what was it?”

“Okay, this conversation just turned a whole lot less ‘idle chitchat.’” Kihrin straightened.

“Why…” Thurvishar frowned, fingers absently turning the band of his father’s intaglio ruby ring. “No. No, I haven’t the slightest idea. Although … I did often sense Gadrith must have had some edge over Relos. But I grew up in the Capital, where everyone is blackmailing everyone.”

Kihrin cocked his head. “If it was information, it might well have died with Gadrith, but what if it wasn’t? Do you think he might have hidden something at Shadrag Gor or back at the D’Lorus estate?”

“You mean an artifact?” Thurvishar asked.

“Sure, why not? Relos Var claims he doesn’t have a Cornerstone himself, but I don’t believe him. All the other dragons do. Why wouldn’t he?”