Page 89 of Heart of Shadows

She nodded. Words failed her, because she wasn’t at all.

“Let’s go,” he said gently.

“We have to find the Dragonheart!” she blurted, refusing to be tugged away.

“I know. Don’t worry! All part of the plan,” he said, tugging her hand again. “We need to go. Timing is critical. The rest of them are waiting.”

She set off at a jog beside him, hardly able to believe the others might have come with him after how they had parted company. “And we’re going to get the stone? I don’t know where they took it.” She glanced around. The city was huge. Where would they even begin?

“Already in hand.” Aedon was serene, as if he did this every day. Then again, she realised, this wasn’t his first time. He led her through the streets and alleyways, always keeping to the minor routes, which twisted and turned through the heart of the city and were overshadowed by tall buildings. In a small, deserted square, the gang awaited.

Harper’s mouth fell open. Even Erika had come.

“Got her!” Aedon said cheerfully.

“About time,” Brand muttered. He pushed himself off the wall where he stood with his arms folded. “Let’s get going. Plan’s afoot.”

Ragnar beamed. “It’s good to see you, Harper.”

“Why did you come?” she asked in a small voice. “I didn’t think I’d see any of you again, after?—”

Brand said, “Yes, well, Mr. Poetic over there wouldn’t stop waxing lyrical about how you never ought to turn your back on someone in need, even when they were being completely and utterly daft?—”

Harper winced.

“—So, just to shut him up, we decided to come along and help you out.”

“I missed my cooking partner, too, if I am being truthful,” Ragnar added.

“And the hand massages,” Aedon whispered with a wink as he strolled past. Harper chuckled.

“Thank you,” she said, loud enough for them all to hear.

“Time for that later,” Brand replied gruffly. “We have a Dragonheart to steal back, and our own escape to master, before we’re done here.”

Erika bent to grab a pile of cloth from the ground. Harper cocked her head, wondering what it was. As Erika passed them around, she saw they were red cloaks. She took one automatically, but glanced at Aedon, a question in her eyes.

“Kingsguard uniform,” he explained. “Help us blend in. Make sure you put it on right so it drapes over your clothes. That way, no one can see you’re not wearing a uniform underneath. Did you get the helms, too?” he asked Erika.

She kicked the sack next to her, which rattled.

“Same again then. One apiece.”

Harper slipped her red cloak and helm on over the squire’s uniform and the king’s gifted cloak. The helm forced her head into her shoulders uncomfortably. Its long nosepiece pressed down on the tip of her nose and reduced her field of vision to two vertical strips.

Harper turned her head this way and that to see her companions. They were indistinguishable from real guards, except Brand, who could fit neither head into helm nor wings into cloak. The only other who remained without either cloak or helm was Ragnar, who made no move to don either, to Harper’s confusion.

“Right, where is it?” Brand asked.

“In the dragon hold,” Aedon replied. “The king holds his Dragonhearts with the dragon eggs.”

Brand frowned. “That could work to our advantage.”

“Definitely. However, the fewer dragons we meet, the better. They’ll be our enemy as much as the Kingsguard if they believe one of their own is in danger.”

“Shall we?” said Ragnar, his wicked grin taking Harper by surprise. She did not expect such mischief from him. Aedon met it with one of his own.

“After you, my friend.”

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