Page 86 of Queen's Griffon

A glance at the floor showed both sides equally scuffed. “I don’t know. Left?” The direction that tugged her strongest.

“Okay.”

Simhi marched fearlessly while Avera did her best to hold Griff’s sword with sweaty fingers. She crept behind Simhi and wondered what she’d do when she saw Basil again.

Probably run him through with the blade.

The man her mother, and even Griffon, must have known wasn’t the Basil she’d met. That person was detestable and given what he’d done—and would continue to do—there was only one real option. Still, planning his murder did leave a sour taste in her mouth.

They reached the end of the tunnel and found themselves on the ledge that overlooked the magma lake not far from where Lenno died. The edges were laden with treasure. The dragon’s hoard. To her left, Avera could see the four rocks she’d spotted before.

The Dracova stones.

How she wished she’d never heard of them. They had brought nothing but trouble. Actually, the blame rested squarely on Basil. Had he never removed them from Fraegus Spire, then Zhos would have remained trapped, Verlora wouldn’t have fallen, Avera wouldn’t be here wondering if a dragon would eat her, and perhaps her father wouldn’t have gone mad.

“We went the wrong way,” Simhi muttered.

Avera followed her friend’s glance upward and noticed a jutting tongue of stone. Barely visible on it? Basil and the wheelbarrow holding Griffon.

“I’m coming, Cap.” Simhi darted back into the tunnel, but Avera stared. Not at Basil tipping over the wheelbarrow, but at the bubbling magma.

Avera took a step back as the dragon rose from the lava, the liquid sluicing from its tough skin. She saw every detail from the jutting crest on its head to the flaring holes of its nostrils which huffed steam. Its scales were a red so deep they were almost black. It made little noise but still drew Basil’s attention.

She saw her father glance over the ledge. Could even see his expression of frightened determination as he dumped Griffon onto the rock ledge. But when Basil would have fled to leave Griffon at the dragon’s mercy, he found himself facing off against Simhi.

She stood framed in the cave opening, scimitar out, and while faint, Avera could hear her taunt, “Let’s see you try and take my blood now that I’m awake.”

“Out of the way, girl,” Basil harshly ordered.

“I don’t think so.”

“The dragon comes,” Basil hissed as said beast pushed itself from the magma.

Avera flattened against the wall and eyed it with fear. She’d seen what it had done to Lenno. Only it wasn’t interested in Avera. It grabbed the stone and began to climb toward Griffon.

Overhead, Avera could see Simhi hesitate, the need to punish Basil warring with self-preservation.

The dragon neared the jutting shelf and opened its mouth.

Avera screamed, “Hide. It’s about to breathe flame.”

Simhi moved quickly, ducking into the tunnel. Basil moved quickly as well but tripped. He fell on his hands and knees, then failed to scuttle fast enough to escape the flames that came jetting out of the dragon’s mouth.

Fire bathed the ledge, so bright she had to close her eyes, but she could still hear. Hear Basil’s piercing shriek as he died.

But Avera didn’t care about him. When the brightness of the flames dimmed, she opened her eyes to see the dragon gone andeverything on the ledge incinerated, including the wheelbarrow that had previously held Griffon.

She closed her eyes, but it didn’t stop the tears from tracking down her cheeks. Didn’t stop her from hearing Simhi’s wail, “The Cap’s gone. It obliterated him.”

Gone.

Dead.

Because of her.

How many would die because of her damnable quest?

Avera’s lips tightened as did her resolve. No more. She left the dragon’s hoard and ran into a blotchy-faced Simhi in the tunnel.

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