Page 29 of Kingdom of Locks

Amell nodded. “I think I’ve only seen an elder once before, when I was a child.” He frowned. “Do you remember that, Tora? One came to meet with Father in Fernford.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Tora said. “Wasn’t it when the prison was being built?”

“Was it?” Amell shrugged. “I don’t remember the occasion.”

“It was,” Tora said, with growing conviction. “They were intrigued by the methods being discussed for containing magic. I suppose they’ve never had any call to do so among the dragon population. They’re supposed to always be very harmonious, aren’t they?”

Amell snorted. “Not to mention they’re much too powerful to be contained by anything.”

“Father will be mortified to have them come and witness our disaster,” Tora said with a grimace.

Amell’s eyes had been latched on to the dragons, but he shifted his gaze to the ground at their feet, searching for his father’s familiar figure. The king was standing before the creatures—which were at least six times his height—his posture straight and his expression calm. But Amell wasn’t fooled by these signs. He was sure Tora was right, and he winced in sympathy for the chagrin his father must be feeling.

“Should we go and greet them?” Tora asked suddenly. Her voice brightened. “Meeting a dragon can never be considered completely danger-free, can it? Maybe today won’t be a total loss.”

A slightly strangled noise from Amell’s right alerted him to Furn’s feelings on this foolhardy attitude from one of his charges.

“Dragon’s flame, Tora,” Amell said mildly. “I don’t know what’s put you in this humor, but the sooner we can return you to your own guards, the better. Poor Furn’s heart can’t take the strain of being responsible for two graceless fools.”

Tora laughed lightly. “Oh, I’m sure he’s fine. Aren’t you, Furn?” Without waiting for a response, she spurred her horse forward, toward their father and his distinguished guests.

Amell threw his guard an apologetic look. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her today.”

“Don’t you?” Furn asked, sounding a little helpless. “I was hoping you might be able to explain it to me. To be frank, Your Highness, I thought I had my hands full with you. Princess Tora’s guards have my pity.”

Amell smiled, but he couldn’t help shaking his head as well. “She’s definitely not quite herself.”

Not wanting to be left out of an event as notable as a dragon visit, he abandoned further discussion in favor of following his sister, swinging down from the saddle once he was within hailing distance of his father.

King Bern was speaking when the pair approached, but he paused, turning to welcome them with the formality favored by dragons.

“Tora, Amell,” he inclined his head toward the dragons, “we are honored by a visit from Tanin and Idric of the dragon colony. Mighty Beasts, these are my offspring, Her Royal Highness Princess Tora, and His Royal Highness Crown Prince Amell.”

The dragons both transferred their unblinking gaze to the newcomers, and Amell tried not to fidget. He felt almost hypnotized as he looked back at the closest one, whose scales, seen up this close, were a deep burgundy. Bearded ridges ran along its temples, and its tail was tipped with a cluster of spikes that made Amell swallow nervously in spite of himself.

“Greetings, Mighty Beasts,” he and Tora chorused together, in accordance with custom.

The burgundy dragon looked back at King Bern, apparently losing interest in the prince and princess.

“Our questions have been answered. I trust you will have all success in containing the risk you are facing.”

With this faint sentiment of goodwill the royals had to be satisfied, because the dragons suddenly tensed into identical crouches. A moment later they’d launched themselves into the air with a rush of wind so powerful the trees at the edge of the prison clearing were momentarily bent sideways.

To King Bern’s credit, whatever mortification he felt, he didn’t show it, either during or after the dragons’ visit. He turned to his son and daughter, his expression a little stiff.

“I suppose I should have expected a visit from the dragons, but I confess I didn’t.”

“What did they want, Father?” Amell asked.

The king’s expression gave little away as he answered. “To understand how such an event occurred.” His tone turned brisk. “Which is what I would like to know, as well.”

“Did the interrogations yield anything interesting?” Amell asked.

His father sighed. “Not really. If the breakout was the result of a concerted plan by those inside, they’re hiding it well. None of the enchanters who accompanied us from Fernford have the ability to detect when someone is lying, but I will request such a person be sent by one of the other kingdoms. I don’t expect much from it, though. The captain of my guard doesn’t believe the recaptured fugitives were lying about how unexpected the explosion was, and even without magic, he’s experienced in such matters.”

“Dragons can all tell when humans are lying, can’t they?” Amell mused, thinking of Furn’s comments. “Shame we couldn’t have asked them to have a look over the prisoners while they were here.”

“Amell,” said King Bern sharply, sounding genuinely alarmed.

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