Page 116 of Kingdom of Locks

“Master Enchanter Lleuad is a powerful man. And I don’t just mean his magic. He has influence. He used to hold a senior position in the Enchanters’ Guild until some private indiscretion forced them to step him down. But he’s still very active. Taking him out would substantially weaken the—”

“Enough,” the dragon cut him off, clearly bored. “I didn’t ask for your poor attempt at strategy. I will not be involving myself.”

“You’re the one who approached me,” the man muttered. “You’re the one who said you could strengthen the enchantment I was working on.”

Zinnia was almost out of earshot now, but she couldn’t resist pausing, to hear how the dragon would reply to the shocking accusation. She couldn’t make out the man’s face in the darkness, but she could hear the sudden cunning that entered his voice.

“I’m an enchanter,” he said. “I’m trained in the ways of magic, including dragon lore. I know the unwritten code between humans and dragons that you don’t use your magic on us—to help or to hinder—or us on you. Offering to strengthen my human enchantment, intended for use on another human, is an enormous violation of that agreement. You have to help me now, to buy my silence.”

Zinnia winced in vicarious embarrassment. Did the man truly think he could best a dragon, in any sense of the word? The dragon let out a deep rumble that seemed to be neither laugh nor growl, but some combination of the two.

“Had you been merely stupid, I might have simply compelled your silence,” he said, in that reverberating voice. “But you are insolent as well. You do not deserve even what minuscule magic was given to you.”

Without any further hint of warning, the dragon opened its jaws, and a burst of flame—orange-white and so hot that Zinnia felt its warmth even from her distance—shot out and engulfed the man. He didn’t even have time to cry out. The landscape was momentarily illuminated with blinding brightness, and before Zinnia’s horrified eyes, the unknown enchanter was burned to nothing more than ash within seconds.

Zinnia may have been frozen in silent, terrified shock, and the dragon’s victim may have had no chance to make a sound. But someone else did. With pure horror, Zinnia heard a scream from one of her sisters behind her. She turned frantically, but the light of the flame was gone now, and she couldn’t make out the others. The sound had clearly come from much closer than the point where she’d left them, however. It seemed Lilac hadn’t been able to convince them all not to follow. One at least had come near enough to witness the death of the dragon’s companion.

A sudden rush of wind blew Zinnia’s hair around her face. Hoping desperately that it signified the dragon’s departure, she looked back toward the cliff.

And felt her stomach drop out from under her.

The dragon was a mere two feet from her, staring down at her from yellow, orb-like eyes that glowed faintly in the darkness. All the breath seemed to have left Zinnia’s body, and she could only stare fearfully up at the beast who’d just reduced a grown man to nothing before her eyes. Up close, she could hardly believe she’d mistaken this beast for Dannsair. Her friend had none of the terrifying, indefinable presence that radiated from the dragon before her. Basil had regularly tried to remind her that the beasts were dangerous, but it was hard to really believe it when Dannsair and Rekavidur were so familiar, almost casual with her.

She believed it now. This creature was no Dannsair. The younger dragon was much smaller, with scales of a bright purple. The dragon standing before Zinnia now was so enormous, and its scales so black in the moonlight, she wondered if it might even be an elder.

A thrill of horror passed over her that went beyond her current predicament. If one of the dragon colony’s elders was actively seeking magical trouble-makers, with the intent of strengthening their destructive enchantments, then Entolia was in trouble. All of Solstice was in trouble.

“Greetings, Sneak and Thief,” the dragon said, his voice as cold as his deadly flame had been searing.

Zinnia straightened her spine, her eyes narrowing as she pushed her fear down. If she was going to be burned into oblivion, she would do it with her head held high. Basil had often told her she didn’t show enough respect to the powerful magical creatures, and she saw no reason to start now. She couldn’t think of any creature she respected less than the malicious, murderous beast before her.

“I am not a thief,” she declared firmly.

“You were not invited to this gathering,” the dragon said crisply. “And the theft of information is perhaps the most egregious of thefts.” He narrowed his catlike eyes at her. “Who are you?”

Zinnia held her head high. “I am Princess Zinnia of Entolia,” she said clearly.

“Is that so?” The dragon’s voice almost seemed to hold a flicker of interest. “I deduce that your poorly concealed companions are your sisters. I have heard of the kingdom’s excess of daughters.”

Zinnia swallowed, trying to conceal her fear. She had been hoping that the dragon hadn’t noticed the others. But that was foolish. Dragons had infinitely better sight and hearing than humans.

“Twelve royals at my disposal,” mused the dragon. “This becomes interesting.” His gaze passed to the darkness behind Zinnia. “Approach,” he said coldly. After a moment of silence, Zinnia heard the sound of slippers shuffling in the grass. Within moments, all eleven of her sisters were grouped behind her back. She barely held in a groan.

“Greetings, Mighty Beast,” attempted Lilac, her voice quavering slightly.

The dragon ignored her completely. “I had lamented the necessity to deal with my eavesdropper,” he said, his eyes returning to Zinnia. “But I wonder if your intrusion could be turned to good account.”

Zinnia had no idea what he meant by that, and she wasn’t sure she cared to find out. Had he known she was there all along, then? Had she sealed her fate the moment she approached within hearing range? If only she’d turned back to the castle as soon as she realized Violet had followed her! But she hadn’t, and now she’d doomed her sisters along with her.

“P-please, Mighty Dragon,” said Daisy, sounding tearful, “don’t hurt us. We didn’t mean any harm.”

Zinnia stiffened, agony shooting through her at her sister’s fear and her own powerlessness against the creature before her.

“We are terribly sorry, Mighty One,” Lilac added, her voice a little unsteady. For all her lofty airs, the oldest of Zinnia’s sisters was still only sixteen.

But the dragon wasn’t watching Lilac. His eyes were fixed on Zinnia, and she was determined not to let him see her fear. He seemed to look down on humans even more than the rest of his kind, but he was a traitor to his colony, and she’d just witnessed the evidence of it. She wasn’t going to cower before him.

As if sensing her thoughts, the dragon leaned down in a slow and controlled move, arching his long neck so that his face hovered inches from hers.

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