They rode the horses deep into the forests, Rhona keeping an eye out for any new markings that would show a change in direction. She was just pul ing to a stop to get a closer look at something near a tree when Vigholf murmured, “Smoke.”

“What?”

“Smoke.” He pointed. “Over there.”

Rhona scented the air. Aye, there was smoke—and fire.

She turned her horse and rode in that direction, Vigholf beside her. As they moved along, they could see the stil burning remains of a smal vil age. Before they got too close, she dismounted and left the mare. Unlike Rhona and, to a lesser degree, Vigholf, the horses weren’t immune to flame.

As she neared the vil age, Rhona could hear the wailing and cries of those who’d survived the fire that had gutted their homes. Worried it was the work of a pissy dragon, Rhona walked up to the first human she found not completely lost in grief.

“What happened here?” she asked.

The man looked up at her, his eyes red from the smoke and his own tears. “Soldiers. From the Provinces.”

“They just burned your vil age? Why?”

And it was his next words that stopped her heart. “Because of the woman.”

“The woman? What woman?”

The man blinked, let out a breath. He looked so exhausted. “The traveler. She came with two other females.”

“She fought the soldiers?” Vigholf asked.

“Nah. She went with them wil ingly. Alone. I don’t know about them other two. They weren’t with her.” He swal owed, wiped at his brow. “She didn’t fight, yeah? Until the soldiers started burning the place. Then she fought, trying to stop them. That’s when they hit her. Hard. Knocked her out.” His voice caught. “That’s when they set the entire place to burn. My wife . . .” He shook his head. “Guess I should be grateful, though.”

“Grateful?”

“Rumor was they’d burned some other vil ages the past few days, but not before they . . . to the women . . .” He shook his head and blindly walked off.

“We need to go,” Rhona said.

Vigholf looked around and, if these humans weren’t already in a state of shock, they’d have been terrified by the expression he wore. “But these people, Rhona . . .”

“I know. But there’s nothing we can do for them now. And Annwyl’s alone with those soldiers. We have to move.”

“Right. You’re right.” Vigholf took a step, then stopped. “They were looking for her. They knew she was coming.” Rhona headed back to the horses. “We have to move.”

It was easy enough to track the soldiers. They were headed back to the Provinces and moving at a nice clip until late in the evening when they final y stopped for the night.

Vigholf crouched beside Rhona on a hil overlooking the campsite. Together they watched as the soldiers dragged Annwyl from a cage. When they started kicking and punching her, Vigholf had to catch Rhona and hold her.

“Not yet,” he told her.

“We can shift.”

“You don’t think they know how to fight us? That Thracius didn’t give his human soldiers enough insight to bring a couple of us down during battle?

We wait.”

A Sovereign picked Annwyl up by her throat. Based on the elaborateness of his armor and the horse-hair crest on his helm, he was the commanding officer. Motioning to at least twenty of his men, he walked to the only tent that had been set up, dragging a barely conscious Annwyl with him. The men, laughing, fol owed.

“Now do we move?” Rhona asked.

“Now we move.”

They began down the hil , staying low, using the tal grass to shield them. They’d stay human to start and only shift if they deemed it necessary.

But, as they moved, a crow sounded behind them and Rhona instantly stopped.

“What?” Vigholf whispered. “What is it?”

Taking a breath, Rhona let out a similar crow caw and there was an answering response. With a nod, Rhona kept low but ran to her right and slightly up until they spotted a large tree. They went around it and Rhona instantly wrapped her arms around the young She-dragon standing behind it.

“Branwen.”

“Cousin Rhona?” Branwen whispered. “What the hel s are you doing here?”

“Come to get you and your wayward queen. Are you al right?”

“Yeah, fine. I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“Hel o, Vigholf.”

Vigholf smiled at the human girl who spoke to him. She’d matured a bit since Vigholf had last seen her. Grown into a right little cutie. But a cutie that could tear a head off with her bare hands based on the size of her. “Izzy. In trouble again, I see.”

“Only a bit.” She nodded and smiled at Rhona. “Hel o, Rhona.”

“Iseabail,” Rhona said coldly, turning from her. “You two stay here. We’l take care of the—”

“We have our orders,” Izzy said. “You can come with us or you can stay here and watch. But we’re moving.” She nodded at Branwen. “And we’re moving now.”

Rhona glared at the pair as they quickly and quietly headed off down the hil . “Damn brats.”

“Damn soldiers,” he reminded her. “We fol ow?”

“It’s not like we have any choice,” Rhona said, pul ing out her spear and letting it expand until it was the size she wanted it. “Now let’s go kil some murdering bastards.”