A hum buzzes in my ears—a slight sound that I wouldn’t notice if it weren’t for the sudden silence. No spring frogs peep. No bats make their funny chirping noise. I almost miss the horrible howling. Not quite.
“Cyrus?”
The courtyard of broken-down structures includes a dove house with a domed roof that is half collapsed, the remains of two horse stalls, what was likely an outdoor kitchen, and, of course, the conical tower keep one can see from town.
But no dragons.
Where could he have gone? The wind whips my skirts, and I shiver, hurrying to shelter against the side of the keep. A row of windows sits in another outbuilding that the tower was blocking at first. It is long and huddles right up against the protective wall.
A flash of scales shows in the middle window.
Cyrus.
I rush through the knee-high weeds, then through the long structure’s simple rectangular entrance. What’s left of a wooden door hangs from its hinges and creaks quietly as I pass.
The inside is very dark—no surprise there—and I squint.
“Cyrus!”
Chapter 9
Kaya
Afreezing wind travels from the toes of my boots to the top of my head, and I can’t move. If I could, I would be shivering so hard that my teeth would crack.
In the dark, Cyrus is suddenly standing right in front of me.
Then he shimmers into nothingness. My frozen state retreats from my body and I turn to run, fear eating all my good sense. I sprint out of the structure, through the courtyard, under the archway entrance to the ruins, and across the one sturdy board.
But the wood snaps beneath me. The ancient moat’s thorny ditch rushes toward me and I land hard. Pain branches up my hand and I cry out.
Cyrus flies down to me, scoops me up, and takes off. Tears stream down my face.
“What hurts?” he asks as we fly through the starry night.
“My hand. I think it’s broken.” My pulse thumps in my hand, the sensation particularly strong in my thumb.
“Why did you go in there?”
“I was following you.”
“I didn’t enter the ruins. Did you trail me from town?”
I nod, savoring the heat of his chest and arms through his clothing even as the pain in my thumb screams. “I saw you in the corridor. Inside the castle. You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I’m not lying. I almost went in and decided against it. I was sitting under the double oak just past the stream.”
“But…”
“I don’t know what you saw, but it wasn’t me,” Cyrus says. The wind tears at his hair and he squints down at me.
“There aren’t any other dragon shifters, though,” I say. “And your eyes are the only ones that look like that. Like dragon eyes with the fiery flecks of color and?—”
Pain takes the last of my words and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Cyrus holds me tighter, and soon we are landing outside Delixian’s place. The windows of the healer’s house are dark. No wonder—it’s the middle of the night. Cyrus knocks on the door with his boot.
“Eh, Delixian! We have an emergency!”
