Chapter 5

I had one hand twisted in his shirt and my other arm locked around his waist.

I let go at once and stepped back. Heat rushed into my face. “I'm sorry.”

His arm dropped from my back. “You were about to fall.”

The words were plain, but he stayed between me and the broken edge until the last stones stopped sliding into the ravine.

“Thank you,” I said, brushing dirt from my trousers. “I'm Lena Vale.”

“Caelan Thorne.” He stepped aside to let me onto firmer ground, then pointed at a red-gold fruit beside the smoking hole. “Widowberries. Poisonous. Eating fruit doesn't make a dragon safe.”

I drew my boot away from the juice leaking through its broken skin.

“That was a Viperswift,” he continued. “They're venomous and don't tolerate humans. Keep your distance if you see another.”

“Then what kind should I look for?” I asked. “I don't know anything about dragons, and I need to learn fast if I'm going to win.”

“Look for ones that are friendly toward humans. They tend to be more intelligent, too. Stonebacks are a good choice. They can't fly, but they're gentle by nature and fight well on the ground.”

He turned toward the narrow trail climbing into the valley. “They live deeper in. I'm going that way.”

He paused, waiting for me to decide.

“Then I'll come with you.”

Caelan took the uphill trail. I kept a careful distance from the edge and from the stranger I had just met, though the second part took more effort than it should have.

Caelan's clothes were rough, inexpensive linen, much like my own. The cuffs had started to fray, and one sleeve was rolled higher than the other. But his hair was so pale it seemed almost white where the sun caught it, and his blue eyes were clear and steady.

He didn't move like someone who spent each day wondering where his next meal would come from. He knew where the trail led and how to read the dragons' signs. I caught myself watching the straight line of his shoulders, then looked away before he noticed.

“Why do you know so much about dragons?” I asked. “Even in those clothes, you look like a prince.”

His step faltered. “Is it that obvious?”

“My family used to be minor nobility,” he added quickly. “We fell on hard times, but we kept our books about dragons.”

That explained it. I wished I'd read one before coming here.

I followed him deeper into the valley, trying to remember everything he'd told me.

The trail narrowed where the trees grew close. I looked for signs of the Viperswift: the wide tracks I'd seen earlier, scratches on bark, fruit skins on the ground. Caelan walked a few steps ahead, scanning the slope instead of the dirt.

I saw the claw marks first.

“Wait.” I caught the edge of his sleeve and pulled him back.

He stopped beside me. “What is it?”

I pointed to a long gouge in the trunk and the deep impressions just beyond it. “Those tracks. They go behind the brush.”

A green head pushed through the leaves. A Viperswift stared at us, its tongue flicking between its teeth.

Caelan's hand hovered near my shoulder. We stayed well back from the brush, leaving the dragon room to pass. The dragon watched us for another breath, then turned and disappeared between the trees.

I released his sleeve when the last of the green tail slipped out of sight.

“You learn fast,” he said.

I couldn't help smiling at that. “I had a good teacher.”

“Remember the lesson.” His mouth twitched, then he faced the trail again.

Dragon calls echoed from beyond the ridge. I paused to listen, but Caelan kept going. The air smelled of crushed leaves and damp earth, with a sharper scent underneath that I couldn't name.

The trees thinned, revealing a broad clearing above a ravine. Contestants and dragons crowded the ground ahead. Caelan stopped, and I stayed beside him, several paces back from the edge.

Most of the nobles had already arrived. Their dragons circled above a silver-white shape, driving it away from the open sky and toward the cliffs.

“Why are they all chasing that one?” I asked.

Caelan's expression tightened. “That's the last Silverwing in the world.”

The dragon's pale scales flashed between the moving wings around it. A red scrape marked one side of its body, but the wound was already closing.

“Silverwings have powerful healing magic,” Caelan said. “Every noble family wants to bond with it, but no one's ever managed it. They're trying to capture it and force a bond.”

“Can it cure a sickness?” I stared at the closing wound, remembering the marks on Mother's forearm.

“I've read that Silverwings can heal terrible wounds. A lost arm, a torn wing. But I haven't seen anything saying they can cure illness.”

“That doesn't mean it can't.”

“Lena, we should stay back. Those dragons could kill you before you get near it.”

The warning made sense. So had Mother's, when she begged me not to enter.

The Silverwing beat its wings hard, trying to break through the circle. One of the nobles veered away, but another dragon held the gap closed. A rider bent low over their dragon's neck and approached the Silverwing from behind.

“It's trying to get away,” I said.

“Stay here.” Caelan caught my arm before I could move, just as the rider behind the Silverwing drew back a spear.

“Hey! Watch out!” I shouted as the rider hurled it.

The Silverwing twisted aside, and the spear shot past its wing. Its eyes found me through the chaos.

Then it folded its wings and dived straight at me.