Page 83 of Crown of Betrayal and Blood

My amazement catches the attention of some of our draconian guards.

They glance in our direction but quickly lose interest. The miraculous reappearance of the devil cat must be old news to them.

My scholar brother all but rubs his hands together. “This means other animals we thought were extinct might be here as well.”

“That’s cool as long as none of them want to snack on us.”

He huffs. “Spoilsport.”

“I hate to break it to you, brother dear, but getting eaten by a giant dagger lizard would also be something of a downer.”

“But think of how cool it would be to investigate its digestive system firsthand.”

I snicker, and he slants me a grin. At this point, I think we’re both a little slaphappy.

The river’s serpentine path opens to a sandy shore. There, basking in the sun’s embrace, lies a dragon who’s so large he wouldn’t even fit in the throne room of the palace in Yorla.

I suck in a sharp inhale. “Holy gods. Look at him.”

Nailah and Kaida land, venturing close enough to the other dragons to trade scents and exchange greetings with swishes of tails and bobbing heads.

“Like a piece of history come to life.” Bastian brightens, and I can almost see the little scholarly wheels turning in his mind. “I wonder how old he is.”

If the sheer size of this ancient dragon isn’t enough to give away his mighty age, the power I feel radiating from him is. He’s built like any other male dragon—two rows of razor-sharp teeth, horns spiraling from his head, spikes in the lower spine, clubbed tail—but even so, there’s something different about him.

Something more than the ancient power. He’s a brilliant silvery color, his scales shimmering in the light. I’ve never seen a dragon this shade before. He’s magnificent.

Our approach does not go unnoticed.

The dragon’s head lifts, gray eyes clouded with years yet sharp with awareness. His salutation is a touch, old and wise, upon my mind. Like the others, he’s eager to meet us. More so, even.

The only other humans he’s run into here are the wingless kind. He torched them for trespassing.

The emotions behind that memory are not pleasant, and I remind myself not to convey any hint of curiosity on my side about that encounter. Bastian and I land at a respectful distance and give a slight bow, like we’re paying our respects to a king.

Oddly, the escort of dragons remains in the air. In fact, they purposefully stay away so as not get caught up in any reaction the ancient one has to our arrival. Most hang back to watch how he responds to us, reserving their judgment until then.

As his milky eyes search over us and his snuffling of our bodies blasts my hair back, his awe at meeting the people he learned about from his mother many years ago dances along my mind. “His mother spoke of us. Well, Tirenese people. Which at least explains the map we found.”

Stepping forward, I hold out a hand, palm up. The dragon lowers his massive head. With slow, gentle movements, I stroke a very small part of his scaly cheek.

At the simple touch, a strange knowledge enters my mind.

Just one word. I don’t know how or why, but somehow I’m certain that it’s the ancient dragon’s name.

“Cailleach.” The name rolls off my tongue, and the dragon chuffs as if pleased. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

Assurance floods the connection between us, leaving me no doubt.

Not for the first time on this journey, Bastian’s jaw drops. “How did you?—”

“Don’t really know.” I shrug one shoulder. “It was this feeling I got when I touched him. The word just popped into my head.”

“Damn,” he says before snapping his mouth shut.

Yeah. Damn.

The dragon conveys his curiosity regarding how we came to be here and why.

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