All four of them dropped belly first onto the ledge and peered over the rim.

“What did you do?” Misola hissed. Piscalo, however, was too busy getting shoved in the side by Jikkol, who had just slithered off the wall, to answer.

“Move over,” the snub-nosed dragon whined.

Gresset’s head snapped around, but instead of turning toward their hiding place, he looked outside his cave.

“The boy is gone,” the massive green snorted.

“Of course he is,” a lighter voice responded, high and sharp. “What did you expect?”

Piscalo leaned forward. Gresset was supposed to be alone. Who was he talking to?

The green brood lord clacked his teeth together and on a dragon that size it was like a thunderclap. “I expect him to obey!”

A smoky gray brushed by Gresset, his equal in length if not in bulk, seemingly unbothered by his outburst. “Do you? Then you must be twice disappointed this day.”

The four of them gasped in unison, and Piscalo’s jaw swung on its hinge. Syldrae? His lies couldn’t possibly have drawn her out? Could they?

The slinky gray was making herself quite at home, prowling around the cavern.

“Still live in filth I see.”

Gresset stayed at the entrance, as if he didn’t wish to share the space with the female dragon. “I feel no need to make my dasha move dust from one pile to another if that is what you mean.”

“A pity. I shall have to make mine clean me then. You are lucky I am in an adventurous mood.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Gresset’s head tilted, and he flicked his tongue. “You speak in twists.”

Syldrae fluttered her wings and then settled to the floor, tail tucked twice around. “Come, Gress. We both know that there is no boy.” Rows of dagger teeth pulled to form a smile. “Although I did enjoy the show you put on. It made me feel young again.” Her head lowered, nuzzling the rock. “Now come. You have invited, and I have agreed. Let us warm this stone.”

If Piscalo thought his jaw couldn’t get any more open he was wrong. He could have stuffed both his feet and hands in his mouth it was open so big. She thought what?

Gresset seemed just as shocked, moving not a muscle in response.

Syldrae gave a small titter at the stiff-backed green. “Has it truly been so long? It seems your romp with Ursha the Red has been much exaggerated.” Foggy lids slid over her massive eyes. “Don’t worry, dear. I shall rid you of your filth.”

Piscalo had seen the remains of a cavern once after a bout of lovemaking between dragons just after their third molting, both only twice the size of Zalc. The rock had been covered in soot, all life burned away. The stones had not just been warmed in the act but boiled until they were red hot, and it was in that fiery inferno that the dragons coupled. He couldn’t even imagine the blaze a dragon the size of Syldrae would create.

Piscalo jumped up, mouth open to scream, but he was quickly yanked down by both dragons and Misola.

“Shhhhhh!” they said.

His eyes darted between his friends. “We have to stop her,” he whispered desperately. “We can’t let her breath on them!”

Misola’s face loomed closer. “On what?”

Zalc shoved her aside. “Why not? The plan was that Gresset would when he came back mad, and he hasn’t yet.”

“But Syldrae wasn’t supposed to be here!” Piscalo cried, louder than he probably should have. “I don’t want to risk—”

FWOOOSH!

Heat seared Piscalo, and he stumbled back from the ledge with a cry. He tripped, his head hitting the stone floor, making his ears ring. His vision was filled with lights, and he blinked his eyes, but they didn’t go away. It was then that Piscalo recognized what he was seeing: a multitude of lit burning bulbs attached to the ceiling and sides of the cave, some even spreading like fingers into the tunnels. He eased himself into a sitting position, his pain forgotten as he looked up at the fruits of his plan. Zalc and Jikkol had done it. They had used all the bulbs Piscalo had brought in the sacks and stuck them to the rock with gum root sap. Now heated, those lights wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

The sensation of success was short-lived though, for Gresset’s giant head lifted over him, blocking the view.