My borrowed boots grind against the stone. “You’re not paying me in eggs, Raze. I need gold.”

“You’ll get it,” he promises. “I’ll make this right. What do you know about firedrakes?”

I sigh, but fighting him doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. “They breathed pure magical energy. They liked gold and gems. The last time one was spotted was over two hundred years ago. Fate only knows how many centuries this one’s been sitting here, so it’s probably not even alive.”

“No,” Raze says, eyes sweeping past my shoulder over the skeleton. “Dragon eggs can incubate for thousands of years. They don’t need a mother to tend them. No one knows exactly what it is that eventually catalyzes them to hatch.”

“So it could hatch tomorrow?”

“Or never.” He shrugs. “But if it’s made it this long, it probably needs to be cared for in order to hatch. We can figure it out.”

I cross my arms. “And then what? We sell it to the highest bidder and put a living creature in their hands like a weapon?”

I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I’m only in this for the money, for my family. I’m not thinking about what comes after that, because none of what comes after affects me.

Raze’s eyes snap back to me, studying me while mine roam anywhere but his face. “Maybe.” Then he reaches for my arm again. “Or...we hatch the egg, and then the dragon is ours. I’ll take back the manor and everything from Leira. She’ll be powerless against something like this. And once I’m the new head of the Wild line...” I can sense his imagination running wild without even looking up at him. “I’ll give you whatever you want,” he finishes softly.

Maybe it’s just the infectious excitement in his voice, but the thought is tempting. I’ll have to wait for however long it takes the dragon to grow powerful enough to be a weapon—maybe a year? But then the reward will be so much grander. With the influence Leira now has, Raze could pardon me. Together, with power like that, we could protect other changelings like the child I once was.

He looks back at the egg over my shoulder—or maybe at the dragon skeleton protecting it. “I don’t know what we’ll do next. We can ask Olani and Isolde what they think when we get back. I just know we can’t leave it here.”

He’s right, at least about that part. We’ve come too far to turn back empty-handed.

“Fine,” I say. “We’ll take it. I’ll crawl into the skeleton. But you owe me one.”

“I already owe you one.” Just like that, lightness returns to his voice. It’s comforting to know some things don’t change.

“You owe me, like, five or six at this point,” I say grimly, gathering up my ridiculous, muddy, torn skirts and taking a step forward.

His mouth slips into a sideways grin. “Are you counting the time you burned my eyebrows off? Because I’m pretty sure that counts for a few.”