Heath’s face closed up like a stone door. “After you.”
Tamri hoisted her belongings onto her back and scrambled onto Boru, who was bigger than Laini if not nearly as large as Mav. She rested her hands on his jewel-blue neck, careful not to disturb the fine white feathers at his shoulders. Heath climbed up behind her in a single fluid motion and put a hand on her hip to keep her in place. She welcomed the contact for once, with nothing else to hold on to.
Boru’s muscles bunched beneath her, and he leapt into the cold morning air. The ground fell away fast, the wind whipping Tamri’s hair around her face. They circled once around the other dragons still on the ground, and then they were off, soaring up the broad green canyon known as the Fissure, which divided one of the three towering peaks of Vertigon Mountain from the other two. A wide river, the Oakwind, ran along the bottom of the Fissure. Mist rose from the water at this early hour, making the whole canyon look hazy and mysterious.
Heath pointed out each of the three peaks as they flew along the Oakwind’s silver line. The Fissure separated Square Peak, the widest and flattest of the three, on the right from Village Peak and King’s Peak on the left. The shallower Orchard Gorge divided Village Peak from King’s Peak, which was the tallest of the three.
Countless bridges crisscrossed the sky over the Fissure and Orchard Gorge, turning the three peaks into a single vertiginous city. The bridges were constructed of wood and stone and rope, not quite the pure-gold highways of the stories. Still, the mountain was larger than Tamri had expected, and her head spun at the thought of crossing those swinging rope bridges.
Boru turned into Orchard Gorge, which was filled with terrace after terrace of fruit trees bearing plums and apples and little green fruits she didn’t recognize. The workers tending the trees looked up as the blue-and-white dragon flew overhead.
Boru banked sharply, making Tamri gasp, and continued nearly straight up, skimming the tree-covered slopes of King’s Peak to the steep layers of the city proper. People turned to watch as the dragon looped among the bridges connecting the terraces on the lower part of the mountain to those lining Village Peak behind them. Balconies jutted out over the slopes, and the roads looked like staircases as often as pathways. More bridges connected the outcroppings around the midsection of King’s Peak.
“You can still see some damage from the true dragon attack,” Heath said, bringing his mouth close to Tamri’s ear and pointing at a dark scar on the mountainside. “They dug into the Fire access points and destroyed half the buildings in the citadel. We’ve been rebuilding ever since.”
The structures did look new and rather grand. Marble and finely crafted stone had been used more often than wood. Glimpses of blazing gold appeared in swirling patterns on some of the walls and doors.
“What’s all that shiny stuff?” Tamri asked.
“Firegold,” Heath said. “The nobles love to put it on their greathouses. You’ll learn to make it, I expect.”
Tamri was awed by the sheer wealth displayed across the mountain. Even when she craned her neck for a glimpse of Village Peak, where she assumed the poorer people lived, she saw fine stone houses and well-kept terrace gardens. Nothing resembled the gutter slums where she’d grown up.
A white haze hung over certain buildings where more glimmers of Firegold appeared in the décor. Those were the Fireshops, where Vertigon’s native power flowed from the depths of the mountain.
It was cold despite all the Fireshops. Tamri hadn’t put on Gramma Teall’s brown wool cloak before she left camp, and she couldn’t reach it now. She had gotten used to the wind chill while flying, grateful for the warm clothes Princess Selivia had bought her, but the temperature dropped precipitously as they got farther up the mountain.
“You’re shivering,” Heath said suddenly.
“Thought the Fire Mountain would be warmer.”
“It’s still summer.”
Most of the people in the streets below weren’t wearing cloaks at all. They must be used to it, but Tamri wasn’t sure how she’d survive if it got much colder than this.
Heath shifted behind her, adjusting his grip on her waist. “Do you want my coat—”
“What’s that?” Tamri interrupted, wanting to divert Heath’s attention. She pointed to a large stone building, bigger than any other but unadorned by marble or Firegold. It looked like a flat gray box interrupted only by high windows and an arched entryway.
“King’s Arena. It’s a dueling venue.”
“Oh right. Dueling.”
As they continued up the slope of King’s Peak, everything got even bigger and nicer. Elegant shops lined the broad avenues, and prosperous-looking people strolled along cobblestone sidewalks or were carried by workers in curtained palanquins. It was like flying over the most expensive part of the Royal District in Pendark without the canal stench. Vertigon smelled of pine, apple trees, and smoke.
They were getting closer to the crown of King’s Peak. Closer to the castle. The home of King Siv and his Fire Queen sat on a plateau about a hundred feet above the next nearest building. Built of light-gray stone, the castle had three towers, one obviously newer than the others, and the lower part had a new façade, marble trimmed in Firegold, that shone as if fresh from its maker.
A walled courtyard around the castle contained the blackened stump of what had once been a truly majestic tree. A ring of new trees had been planted around it, but it would be years yet before they peeked over the walls.
Boru landed inside this courtyard, and Heath dismounted smoothly.
“You can just fly right in?”
He shrugged. “They know me.”
Still shivering from the cold—and maybe a little fear—Tamri scrambled off Boru’s back and landed a bit too hard on the uneven ground.
Heath reached out to steady her. “Don’t be nervous. They’re—”
“I’m not nervous,” Tamri hissed.
He pulled back his hand as if she’d bitten him. “Just trying to help.”
Tamri wished her first instinct weren’t always to lash out. But Heath didn’t know all the reasons she had to be on edge. She hooked her fingers in the rope holding her sack of belongings on her back and willed her pulse to stop racing.
Heath spoke to Boru for a moment. The dragon bowed his head in a dignified farewell then took off into the morning sky to deliver his Watermight cargo.
Heath led the way up the grand castle steps to a pair of double doors made of that same glowing Firegold substance. It seemed an extravagant display of wealth—and a foolish one. Doors like that would be stolen within a week in Pendark.
A pair of men in blue uniforms guarded the doors. One took a crisp step forward, a slim sword swinging at his hip, and held out a hand.
“Welcome back, Lord Samanar.”
“Captain Jale.” Heath shook the man’s hand, and Tamri noticed a Firegold knot on his shoulder indicating his rank. “I bring a letter from Princess Selivia and a . . . delivery for the queen. Is she free?”
Captain Jale looked at Tamri curiously. He was in his late twenties, and he appeared neatly trimmed and thoroughly respectable. “She and the king are in the dueling hall. I’ll escort you.”
“No need,” Heath said. “I know the way.”