about Lucan and his diamond-bladed weapons. He is a hero many times over in Draconia.”
“I know that name. I heard Lucan rant about Darian. He was so angry, he nearly killed one of his own guardsmen when the news of Lord Darian’s defection was reported.”
They talked long into the night as they flew. Riki was thrilled with the news about her family, surprised by the odd new lifestyle her mother and little sister enjoyed in the Lair and completely astounded by the idea that her twin was now Queen of Draconia.
Nico teased her with funny stories of baby Tor’s antics and made her cry with the news that little Belora was going to be a mother at any moment. He was good to talk to and the time passed quickly. She was surprised when the first gray streaks of dawn started showing on the horizon behind them.
He had told her about her twin sister and the amazing feats of bravery Lana had performed, transforming for the first time into a dragon and flying into the thick of battle to save the king’s life. Riki didn’t think she’d ever have the nerve to do something so brave. No, Lana was the fearless one. She always had been, and Riki was comforted to know her twin had found a man she could love and who loved her in return.
Still, Riki felt a pang of regret and shame that she had suffered in silence all these years, giving in to Lucan’s demands, never once finding a way to escape on her own. Though she had tried repeatedly. Oh, how she’d tried. But failure was her bitter companion. Failure and punishment…and torture.
Riki admired Alania and Belora and the tales Nico told her of their daring, and her mother’s surprising bravery as well. Clinging to a tree with a swarm of skiths below took courage. Nico described how her mother had done that and more. That was the kind of daring Riki feared she would never possess. She felt like such a failure. Such a burden.
She thought of the little she’d managed to accomplish in her life and how often she had failed. Lulled by those morose thoughts, she rested against Nico’s warm back. She was snug and warm now, between the woolen cloak and Nico’s inner fire. She nearly dozed, but refused to miss a moment of the incredible feeling of flying and seeing the stars so close up. Riki let her gaze drift out and up, pondering the stars, little holes in the fabric of heaven, so near and yet so far.
“This doesn’t look good.” Nico’s voice broke into her drifting thoughts.
“What? What doesn’t look good?” Instantly, she was alert. He sounded so serious.
“Troop movement. Lots of troop movement. Lucan’s alerted the border garrisons.”
“How could he inform them so fast?”
“I didn’t want to tell you this, but I heard the guards talking in the tavern. Lucan sent relay riders ahead to the border and every town in between. He wants you back badly enough to put every soldier in this cursed land on alert. They’ve been riding non-stop since we escaped. When one reaches his destination, another picks up the message and goes to the next stop and so on. Damned efficient and damned inconvenient for us.”
“What can we do?”
“Sweetheart, I don’t want to risk the border crossing with you on my back. There are limits to how high I can fly safely—especially with a passenger. I can’t go high enough to be completely out of range of those diamond blades, and if anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself. It’s too risky.”
“But—”
“There are other ways, Riki. You have to trust me. I am the Spymaster of Draconia, after all.” His sooty laughter was soundless, but she felt the ripples of humor roll through his sinuous neck.
“What ways, then?”
“Well, we could fly northward and try to cross into the Northlands. They might not expect us to try that and the northern border of Skithdron is less heavily fortified than the one with Draconia. Or we could take our chances on the ground for a bit. We’ll have to stop soon anyway to rest for the day. My black hide is too easily seen against a light sky.”
“Do you know where we can go?”
“I have an idea. There’s an operative in place in the city of Plinth. If we can get to him, he might be able to help us.”
“Operative? What kind of operative are you talking about? A spy?”
“Actually, by trade,