was practically hopping from foot to foot in the hall. “What’s going on in there?” he demanded. “Does Mrs. Drucker need me?”
“They’re all too old to have much of a brawl, if you ask me. But I’d give them a few minutes to cool down before you go in.” Sam nodded dubiously. “Anyway, when they give you the chance to get a word in edgewise, tell Mrs. Drucker I’ll do it. She’ll know what I mean. And I can let myself out.”
Deven slipped out the front and set off up the hill, rather than down. He couldn’t go home just yet; maybe George and Phina would fret, but he needed a few minutes to himself, to look over the town and walk far enough to let his mind work through everything that had happened in the past hour.
He was going to meet a dragon; he had been tasked with seducing a dragon in order to take one of his scales, a project that Deven found distasteful; a little boy’s life hung in the balance.
Deven had a great deal of thinking to do.
Chapter Three
The top of Fiora’s turret offered a perfect view of the small group trudging up the hill toward the castle. He peeked around one of the crenellations and watched them approach. Andrei occupied a similar position to his left, although he had to duck a little to stay out of sight.
“Where’s the girl?” Andrei asked, voicing Fiora’s thoughts perfectly.
Because there was no sacrificial maiden amongst the town’s delegation, unless the council meant to pass off the gray-haired crone at the front of the procession as a lady of innocent purity. Well. Fiora supposed it was possible; after all, virgins came in all shapes, sizes, and ages. But she wore the same absurd plush hat as all but one of the rest, and had a sash over her dress. She was one of the council, as far as Fiora could tell.
The only one lacking a hat and sash was a tall figure in perfectly normal trousers and coat at the rear of the group — good God, very tall indeed. He towered nearly a full head over the next tallest man present. His brown hair gleamed gold in the rising sun, and he walked with a loose, insouciant stride, hands in his pockets as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“They seem to have left the girl at home and brought a giant, instead,” Fiora muttered. “Do you think they’ve changed their minds and decided to challenge me to single combat?”
Andrei craned his head for a better view. “No sword,” he said dismissively. “And that fellow’s well-developed enough, but he’s hardly a match for a dragon in hand-to-hand combat. My lord, I think he’s the sacrifice.”
Fiora leaned out a little further and squinted against the sun, wishing he’d had the foresight to bring a spyglass from his study. The man took his hands out of his pockets and shrugged out of his coat, draping it casually over one shoulder. Oh, God. Those shoulders looked even broader without the coat than with it. Fiora bit his lip. Did they already have a spy in the castle? He’d have sworn none of his servants would tell tales about him for love or money, but if the council wanted to place someone near Fiora who’d be able to addle him into giving up his secrets…well, this would be much more effective than a maiden. The maiden who could addle Fiora hadn’t been born yet and probably never would.
The group drew nearer, and now Fiora could make out their faces. The presumed sacrifice wasn’t the sort of aristocratic beauty Fiora had tended to dally with back home, but he had a certain homely appeal, with his straight dark brows and square jaw. And then one of the council said something to him, gesturing impatiently at the coat he’d removed, and the man smiled, a wide, wicked, disrespectful grin that did things to Fiora’s insides.
“Oh my,” Andrei said suddenly, making Fiora jump. Bloody bother, did Andrei suddenly have a fondness for improbably tall men with long, well-muscled legs? Or was he reading Fiora’s mind? Fiora turned to glare at him, but Andrei wasn’t rapt with lust. He was laughing silently, shaking his head and rubbing his temples as if overcome.
“Have you lost your wits?” Fiora hissed. “What?”
“My lord, I’ve seen him before. The sacrifice. I’m not sure what game they’re playing, but he’s not as described.”
“Well, of course he isn’t! He’s not a