Ellie watched from the Tidedancer’s shadow as another fishing boat approached the hidden cove. Like the others she’d observed, this one rode low in the water, heavy with the evening catch. Two women and a man worked the oars while an elderly fellow managed the nets.

The burns on her arms throbbed as she adjusted her borrowed servant clothes. She’d need a story; something simple but believable. The fishing crews had been coming and going all afternoon, delivering their catches to the palace above. Some boats seemed understaffed, their crews struggling with the heavy nets.

When the next boat passed close to her hiding spot, she made her move.

“Need an extra hand?” she called, making her way along the cove’s edge. “Saw you struggling with them nets.”

The elderly man squinted at her. “Who’s asking?”

“Sara,” Ellie said, using her mother’s name. “Just finished my shift with Torren’s crew, but could use the extra coin if you’re hiring.”

The man glanced at his struggling crew, then back at Ellie. “You know silver trout? Storm drakes won’t eat nothing else.”

Ellie nodded. “Worked the lake since I was old enough to hold a net.”

“Three coppers for the evening run,” he said. “Mind you do exactly as told. Dragonkin don’t take kindly to mistakes with their dragons’ dinner.”

“Fair enough.” Ellie climbed carefully into their boat, mindful of her hidden injuries. The other workers barely glanced at her as she took position near the nets.

The elderly man—who introduced himself as Roan—showed her their system. “Sort by size here,” he demonstrated. “Biggest ones go to the royal dragons. Smaller ones for the trainees. Any that ain’t silver trout, we keep for ourselves.”

Ellie settled into the rhythm of sorting fish, grateful her years on the Blue Horizon made the work second nature. Her bandaged arms protested each movement, but she kept her expression neutral as she worked.

“You’re quick with them fish,” one of the women said, pausing to wipe sweat from her brow. “Most new ones fumble about.”

“Had a good teacher,” Ellie said, remembering Tyler’s patient lessons. She glanced up at the palace towers looming above them. “How many deliveries you make each day?”

“Three or four,” Roan said. “More when they’re training new dragons. Them storm drakes eat enough for ten men each.”

The boat rounded the cliff edge, revealing the main harbor. Ellie’s breath caught at the sight. Dozens of vessels crowded the water, from tiny fishing skiffs to massive supply ships. Dragons perched on carved stone ledges above, watching the boats below.

“Keep your head down,” Roan warned as a shadow drake swooped low over the harbor. “Best not to draw their attention.”

They tied up at a weathered dock where other crews already unloaded their catches. Servants scurried back and forth with baskets and carts, carrying fish up the endless stone steps carved into the cliff face.

“Here.” Roan handed her a wooden token stamped with a dragon’s head. “Shows you’re cleared for delivery duty. Don’t lose it, or the guards’ll have you in chains faster than a seadrake can swallow a ship.”

Ellie tucked the token into her pocket. One wrong move would expose her as an impostor.

“Sara, help Mira with them baskets,” Roan called, pointing to where the older woman struggled with a heavy load. “Then follow her up to the kitchens. She knows the way.”

Ellie hurried to help, catching the basket before it could slip from Mira’s grip.

“You’re favoring them arms something fierce,” Mira said quietly. “Nets catch you wrong?”

“Something like that,” Ellie said, adjusting her grip to hide her wince.

Mira studied her face. “Well, them kitchen fires’ll help with the ache. Come on then—Cook Marta hates waiting on her deliveries.”

They joined the line of servants climbing the steps. Ellie counted the landings as they ascended, noting how each branch led to different parts of the palace. Their path took them through torch-lit corridors where the stone walls still showed tool marks from their carving.

Steam billowed from massive doorways carved into the rock. The kitchen’s heat hit Ellie like a wave. She followed Mira past rows of cooking fires where servants tended bubbling pots and turned spits laden with meat.

“New girl, eh?” A round-faced woman appeared through the steam, her arms dusted with flour to the elbows. Cook Marta, Ellie guessed from the way other servants quickly stepped aside. “Let’s see what Roan sent us.”

Ellie kept her head down as Marta inspected their baskets. The cook’s eyes missed nothing, categorizing each fish with efficiency.

“These’ll do for the storm drakes,” Marta said. She jabbed a thumb toward a line of workers breaking down larger fish. “Join that lot. You done this before?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ellie set her basket down at an empty station. Her fingers found the familiar grip of a scaling knife, but she forced herself to use cruder movements. A skilled fisherman’s daughter would give her away as surely as her red hair.

“Storm’s coming,” someone muttered nearby. “Can feel it in my bones.”

“That’s not storm weather,” another servant replied. “That’s them dragons stirring things up. Getting worse every day with all this fuss about the wedding.”

Ellie’s knife slipped, nearly cutting her finger. Wedding? She kept working, straining to hear more.

“Hush now,” Marta called sharply. “Less gossip, more fish. Them drakes won’t feed themselves.”

A crash from the corridor scattered conversations as two Dragonkin strode through the kitchen, surveying the workers. One stopped near Ellie’s station, nostrils flaring.

“You smell like the lake,” he said, eyes narrowing.

“Been fishing all day, m’lord,” Ellie mumbled, remembering how the palace servants deferred to their masters.

“Hmph.” He moved on, but Ellie’s hands trembled as she returned to her work. One wrong word, one slip of her cap, and all would be lost.

“Don’t mind them,” Mira whispered when the Dragonkin had passed. “They’re all stirred up lately. What with the princess’s big announcement and all.”

“Announcement?” Ellie kept her voice carefully casual.

“Where you been, girl? Princess Seren’s getting married! To some dragon trainer from out past Crystal Shores way. They say he’s special—got the old blood in him. Being transformed and everything.”

The scaling knife clattered from Ellie’s numb fingers.

“You alright there?” Mira touched Ellie’s shoulder. “Gone white as a ghost, you have.”

“Just . . . the heat.” Ellie retrieved her knife with shaking hands. The burns on her arms felt like they were on fire again. “This dragon trainer—where is he now?”

“Oh, he’s up at Dragon’s Fang Island with Master Kestrel.” Mira lowered her voice. “Heard tell he’s got a way with the big ones. Even that beast they keep chained in the caves.”

A young servant hurried past with a message clutched in his hand. “Cook Marta! Princess Seren needs more supplies at Dragon’s Fang for the training feast. Says they’re celebrating the dragon trainer’s progress tonight, before bringing him back for the grand ceremony.”

Marta swore under her breath. “They expect us to get supplies up that mountain tonight? With a storm brewing?” She pointed at two workers. “You and you—start packing preserves. They’ll have to make do with what we can send.”

“Progress,” Ellie whispered. She scraped her knife against the fish with more force than necessary.

“Aye,” Mira said, clearly enjoying having a fresh audience for the gossip. “Heard tell he’s mastering them dragons faster than anyone expected. Even that black beast they keep chained up. Though some say . . .” She glanced around before continuing. “Some say the changes are happening faster than normal too.”

“Changes?”

“That’s what comes of drinking dragon potions, don’t it?” Another servant joined their conversation, her voice dropping to a whisper. “My cousin’s friend works in the laboratories there. Says they’re turning him into one of them. Scales and all.”

Ellie’s vision blurred. The knife slipped again, this time drawing blood from her palm. She barely felt it through the horror of what she was hearing. Her son—her Pryce—was being transformed into one of them?

“Here now,” Mira pressed a clean cloth into her hand. “You’re having a rough go of it. Come help me with the stores instead. Quieter there, and cooler too.”

Ellie followed numbly as Mira led her away from the busy kitchen and into a storage room lined with shelves. Salted fish and dried herbs hung from the ceiling.

“Sit.” Mira guided her to a crate. “You’ve been pushing too hard with them injured arms. Let me see.”

“No, I—”

But Mira was already pushing up her sleeve, revealing the bandages. The older woman’s eyes widened at the marks of the Sweetsnare’s burns.

“Those ain’t from no fishing nets,” Mira said quietly. Her eyes moved to where Ellie’s cap had slipped, revealing a strand of red hair. “And you ain’t no ordinary servant neither, are you?”

Ellie’s hand moved to the knife at her belt. Mira noticed and shook her head.

“Put that thought right out,” the older woman said. “If I meant you harm, I’d have called the guards already.” She reached up and pulled down a bunch of dried herbs, crumbling them between her fingers. “These’ll help with them burns. Sweetsnare got you, didn’t it? Nasty things, them flowers.”

“You know about Sweetsnares?”

“Know about a lot of things. Including why a woman with warrior’s calluses and a mother’s eyes might be sneaking into Drakemere.” Mira began mixing herbs in a small bowl. “He’s your boy, ain’t he? The one they’re changing?”

A crash from the kitchen made them both jump. Voices raised in argument about the supplies for Dragon’s Fang.

“Yes,” Ellie whispered. What was the point in denying it now? “His name is Pryce.”

“Thought as much.” Mira pressed the herb mixture into Ellie’s hands. “Put that on them burns when you can. Now listen close, ‘cause we ain’t got much time before they notice we’re gone.”

“Why are you helping me?”

Mira’s face hardened. “Because I had a boy once too. Till the Dragonkin decided he had the right blood for their experiments. Never saw him again after the changes started.” She glanced at the door. “Your Pryce . . . they say he’s different. Stronger. The changes ain’t killing him like they do most. That’s why the princess chose him.”

“Chose him for what?”

“For their plans, of course. Crystal Shores sits on something they want bad. Mining crews been gathering equipment for months. But they need a legal claim to the land.” Mira’s voice dropped lower. “What better way than a royal marriage to a local boy? Especially once he’s fully changed—more dragon than human.”

“The villages that fell to them before . . .” Ellie began, remembering Finnegan’s warnings about the Dragonkin’s conquests.

Mira’s bitter laugh cut her off. “All the same pattern. They find something they want—minerals, dragon artifacts, ancient magic—then take it however they can.” She grabbed another bunch of herbs. “They’re clever about it too. Sometimes they use threats, sometimes promises. This time they’re using your boy.”

The storage room door creaked. Both women froze, but it was only the kitchen cat slinking in to hunt mice.

“How long?” Ellie asked. “How long before they bring him here?”

“The formal ceremony’s set for three days’ time, here at Drakemere,” Mira said, her voice dropping lower. “But there’s whispers they might do it sooner, right there at Dragon’s Fang. The changes are happening faster than they expected. Some say he’s already growing scales.”

“Growing scales?”

“That’s what happens when they feed them dragon potions. Transformation takes hold quick—a week at most. Most don’t survive it.”

Ellie’s hands trembled. Not just marriage—they were turning her son into some kind of monster. “This transformation . . . can it be stopped?”

“Don’t know,” Mira said. “Never heard of anyone trying. Most families just . . .” She swallowed hard. “Most just pretend their changed ones died. Easier that way.”

“There’s something else,” Mira whispered. “Something my friend in the dragon caves overheard. The princess, she’s—”

“Mira!” Cook Marta’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Where’s them dried fish for Dragon’s Fang?”

“Coming!” Mira called back. She turned to Ellie, speaking rapidly. “Listen careful. There’s a gate in the lower caves, behind the old dragon sculptures. Guards change at eveningbell. That’s your best chance to—”

“MIRA!”

“Just a moment more!” Mira grabbed Ellie’s arm. “Find Jorr when you reach Dragon’s Fang. He tends the injured dragons. Tell him Mira sent you. He’ll—”

Heavy footsteps approached. Mira shoved Ellie behind a stack of barrels just as Cook Marta burst in.

“What’s taking so long? And who were you talking to?”

“Just the cat,” Mira said. “You know how I get, talking to animals like they’re people. Here’s them fish you wanted.”

Ellie held her breath as Marta and Mira’s footsteps retreated. She waited until the kitchen sounds grew distant before slipping out from behind the barrels.

Outside, the storm was breaking. Lightning split the sky as Ellie made her way back through the winding corridors. She had to reach Dragon’s Fang Island before they forced that marriage, before the transformation took her son completely. But how? The island was likely heavily guarded, and she had no way to—

She stopped. Something Mira had said about the mining crews. They were gathering equipment, preparing for their invasion of Crystal Shores. Supply ships would be making regular runs to Dragon’s Fang Island.

Thunder cracked overhead as Ellie emerged into the rain-soaked night. Dragons wheeled against the dark clouds, their shapes illuminated by lightning. Below, in the harbor, crews worked to secure ships against the growing storm. Including a supply vessel, its deck stacked with mining equipment, preparing to leave for what she hoped to be Dragon’s Fang Island.

Ellie pressed herself against the wet stone as a patrol of Dragonkin passed above. The supply vessel’s crew worked frantically to secure their cargo before the storm hit in full force. Mining equipment filled most of the deck—picks, shovels, and strange machines she didn’t recognize.

A horn sounded from the harbor master’s tower—three long notes warning of the approaching storm. The supply ship’s crew moved faster, shouting to each other over the wind.

“Get those ropes secured!” A burly man—the captain, by his bearing—gestured at the mining equipment. “We leave as soon as this squall passes!”

Lightning crackled overhead. Dragons scattered for shelter, their shapes disappearing into caves high in the cliff face. Even they knew better than to challenge a storm like this.

Ellie watched the crew securing the last of the cargo. Her only hope was to follow the supply ship in the Tidedancer—if she could reach her boat before the storm hit in full force. She’d have to stay far enough behind to avoid detection, but close enough not to lose them in the darkness.

The wind drove rain like needles against her face as she made her way down toward the harbor.

Let the storm rage. Ellie had survived Sweetsnares and seadrakes to reach this place. She would find a way to reach Pryce.

Thunder shook the cliffs as she disappeared into the darkness. The real storm, she knew, was yet to come.