Page 57 of Crown of Ashes and Awe

Lennon shook her head. "I'm not leaving my dragon. And we can handle one lone druid. The rest of you need to go, now, get out while you can. We'll find you as soon as Kivi can fly." She turned to her husband. "Maybe you should go with them."

He laughed. "And leave you here with that madman? That's precisely what he wants. In fact, he could have set this all up, hoping we'd do just that."

"We all go, or we all stay," Tearloch said. "They can't beat us if we remain united."

Minkin shivered in Sweetie's arms. "What do we do now? Go back to our rooms?"

The servant issued a shrill whistle that cut through the cold air and filled the courtyard. The shuffle and murmur of dozens of voices suddenly surrounded us. Glow stones came to life. Embedded in the heartstone that wove through the blocks, the lights were so intense they lit up the entire field of snow.

Atop the north and west walls, fifty dragon riders stood beside their animals, calmly nodding and commenting, as if they’d been watching us the whole time.

“They must have used that camouflage,” Griffon said, “like the spell that kept us from seeing the city.”

Wind buffeted us as a single dragon came to land on the snow fifty feet out from the wall. A familiar black beast with blue stripes. Though my stomach burned with disappointment, I forced myself not to look away when Ciro hopped to the ground. A smaller man came to stand beside him with papers in hand.

"So, you've given up,” he said. “I must say I'm a little disappointed you didn't get any further."

The men around me may as well have been a herd of bulls for all the fuming and stomping going on. With their weapons drawn, they moved into a circle with Minkin, Lennon, and I in the center. They were ready for the fight no matter which direction it came from, though I didn’t like our chances.

If we were to die by dragon fire, I wanted to be prepared. And considering all the beasts standing high above us, it looked like that was the plan.

At least I would die warm...

Ciro raised his hands and signaled for silence. "Resist, my friends, and the women will die first.”

He raised his brow and waited until all weapons lowered and were reluctantly tossed aside. Then he took a paper from the man beside him and began to read.

“As you have conspired together, these charges will apply to you all. The attempted escape. Stealing the horns, along with the destruction to do so. Attempting to leave without express permission. Leaving your rooms at night. The usual. But stealing the horns is rarely done. Some try to take theArd Draoialong, but they’re wise enough to resist.

“Not everyone finds the cook.” He shook his head with feigned pity. “Thought you’d found an ally, did you? Thought she was trying to help, not trying to nudge you along?” He and his minions laughed for a long time. Then he gestured to Morrow, Tearloch and Nogel. “But you three touched the horns. That’s deserving of a special punishment.”

We were forgotten while the DeNoy chatted amongst themselves and Ciro called out odd details of the night. “Brute force? Anyone?”

Some raised their hands.

“The Recovery? Pressing the healers for help?”

More hand-raising.

“Niv, it looks like you’ll have to replace the bust in the foyer once again.”

Laughter rippled along the wall.

“That leaves the cook, the horns?—”

“I wagered fifty on the horns!” someone shouted.

Ciro continued. “First night, north wall.” He looked over his paper at Griffon. “No one wagered you’d kill your mute messenger,” he told Griffon. “Pity. That was worth twenty points.” He suddenly pretended surprise. “Why, you’re cold! How thoughtless of me. Allow us to show you to your new quarters…”

While most of the DeNoy continued to settle the scores for this game they obviously played often, guards dressed in blue and black filed down steps in the side of the wall to escort us back the way Griffon, Lennon, and Bain had come—toward the arena.

None of us asked what they intended to do with us. We already knew.

* * *

When trudgingthrough the snow got to be too strenuous, Tearloch swept me off my feet and carried me. I wrapped my outer arm up over his shoulder and pressed my face under his neck.

Knowing these might be our last moments together, I thought I should say something reflective and memorable. But I was too cold to think profound thoughts. Instead, I said, “You’re not wearing your gloves.” I leaned back to look at his face and noticed the glint in his eyes and a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

---