Rodgardae had thought that the hard part would be convincing his siblings that Lord ver Kleelan wasn’t simply insane. None of their scouts had seen an actual urshvalkin (at least not and lived to tell about it) and that was unfortunately the most believable part of his story. He also thought the hard part would be to change the minds of all the admirals and Admiralty of Watt, who agreed with his sister that their best offense was a good defense.

He had thought all those things, and he had been wrong.

His sister swayed by his side, her gray curls popping out from her hat brim. “Do you see what I see?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes,” Rodgardae said, and meant to say more, but what was there to say?

“That is a damn big dragon,” Doctor Worthan said, following with a long low whistle of admiration.

Rodgardae figured that was definitely something that could be said about the dragon in front of them.

They had all agreed to meet at the Admiralty’s office the morning following their meeting at the Hoolarée, and ver Kleelan said he would send word for a “friend” to meet them there. Since Rodgardae’s sister was ensconced there with the rest of the upper level officers, it was the best place for Rodgardae to make his proposal since she would feel more relaxed in her own territory. How she had never manifested as a queen herself, he would never know.

When they got there, a very pale young man with a riot of bright yellow curls falling down over his shoulders was loitering by the door and causing the guards outside the main entrance to eye him distrustfully. Rodgardae had not blamed them, for as young as the man was, probably no more than twenty years old, he was almost seven feet tall and built like a bear. He probably weighed more than he and Mani put together.

“I’ve seen him around,” Mistress Seraphinite had said, looking at the youth who was talking in low tones with ver Kleelan.

Then the boy had gone to stand in the middle of the street, dropped his heavy cloak to reveal that he was stark naked only long enough to twist into his dragon form.

His giant dragon form.

Rodgardae’s sister had come running out a few moments later, obviously alerted by the guards, and they all stood on the broad stoop of the building, staring at the strange dragon who was easily four times as tall and long as Rodgardae’s own dragon form, yet definitely not any kind of queen.

Lord ver Kleelan strolled over. “The giants of Khzern are truly amazing to behold. He’s not even full-grown.” He looked like he was showing off his prized puppy.

“Who in the blasted hell are you?” Rodgardae’s sister snapped, looking Lord ver Kleelan up and down. “Are those consort braids?” She turned her incredulous expression on Rodgardae. “What did you do now?”

“This isn’t my fault!” Rodgardae said impulsively, only to hear Mani laugh from behind him. Drawing the tattered remains of his dignity together, he glared at his sister. “Admiral Leonteinparre the Elder, this is Lord ver Kleelan, of Kaaltendt, and I have no fucking clue as to why he’s wearing his hair like that.”

“Did you bring that damn big boy here?” his sister asked point-blank.

Lord ver Kleelan lit up with a wide smile. “I did! He’s how I know that Emperor Rhezv has at least one urshvalkin.”

Everyone looked away from the giant to ver Kleelan, but Rodgardae’s sister turned back to him. “Admiral Leonteinparre the Younger, you better have a good explanation for this.”

Rodgardae gave in to the impulse to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I don’t, not really, but as you can see, we have someone in contact with Khzern, along with important military intelligence regarding the emperor’s fleet.”

“Dare I ask how?” She squinted at him, which made her look so much like their father it was almost funny.

Mani shifted to stand beside Rodgardae, who sent him a silent thank you. “I think the better question, Admiral, is why,” Mani said with flourish that ended with pointing at Lord ver Kleelan.

His sister finally turned back to him. “You stink like a feral.”

“I’ve lived around ferals for years, I do apologize.” He did not sound apologetic at all.

“Where are you from?” She bared her teeth, but he looked up as if thinking deeply on the question.

“Do you know, that if you go far enough to the west, you end up in the east?”

She frowned at him, and Rodgardae discreetly shuffled back a little, pushing into Mani to keep them out of it for the moment.

“Of course I know that the world is a sphere. Every dragon knows that!”

“We know that, but we don’t do it often. When I left my ancestral home, I headed west.” He waved a hand at the Khzern giant, who was at that moment sitting placidly taking up most of the street and looking very much like a draconic pigeon.

“And that’s where you’ve been for however long, wing-slapping with ferals?”

“What? No! The Khzern aren’t ferals.”

His sister looked out at the giant, who seemed to be going to sleep, and back at ver Kleelan. “I believe you, but you need to quickly get to the part where you brought a Khzern giant — who’s barely more than a boy, don’t think I didn’t notice — and plopped him on our doorstep.”

Rodgardae knew it was time for him to intervene. “It was my suggestion. He has his own agenda, but I convinced him that ours might match it well. Perhaps we can take this inside?”

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Lord ver Kleelan looked out toward the Khzern giant and said something in a clicking, melodious language. The dragon nodded, then tucked his head under a wing to very obviously take a nap. Everyone still on the street were all looking at each other, but it was clear that the giant was not going to move and also could not be moved. Carriages started to back up and turn around, and the regular noises of the city slowly returned. Rodgardae was certain, though, that news of a Khzern giant basically roosting in front of the Admiralty’s offices was already spreading across the whole of the city. It would be front-page news by nightfall.

With a sigh, he followed his sister inside, Mani next to him and ver Kleelan behind him. Worthan, Wildt and Mistress Seraphinite took up the rear of their little parade. When they got to a conference room, his sister sat pointedly at the head of the table and motioned for the rest to take a seat. A couple of aides came in promptly with trays of coffee carafes and cups that were far too delicate to be standard issue. His sister poured herself a cup with no finesse and took a large swig of it like a sailor. Rodgardae frowned at her but she rolled her eyes at him.

Mani poured cups for both himself and Rodgardae, while ver Kleelan ignored the coffee entirely.

Worthan held his cup in both hands but leaned forward eagerly. “How old is he, exactly?”

“Foösh? He’s thirty-eight years old,” ver Kleelan said as if it was obvious.

Everyone stared at him.

“He’s no more than twenty,” Rodgardae’s sister countered.

“Oh no, he’s definitely thirty-eight. It’s just that giants live unusually long lives, even for dragons, and so mature later. He won’t be considered fully adult until he’s fifty, at least. Right now he’s in what Khzerns call ‘the in-between.’ More than a teenager, less than an adult. He’s here under my supervision to help rescue my niece.”

Rodgardae’s sister frowned again and put down her coffee. “Your niece?”

ver Kleelan waved a hand at Rodgardae, who glowered at him for a moment, but then explained the story of Agadart ver Kleelan’s kidnapping. He left off the whole blasphemy that Lord ver Kleelan claimed about her being the heir of Princess Beatra, though, because he knew that would set his sister’s temper off like a firecracker.

“I read about that trial for Baron Stewardt,” she said. “I wondered what happened to his wife after she turned on him. Lucky to get out of that with her life and her head.”

“My family is good at surviving against long odds. It’s how we managed to get through Maganrad’s Culling mostly unscathed, despite our draconic lineage. We lost a lot of land and prestige but the family line continued.” Mistress Seraphinite spoke primly and looked straight ahead, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Rodgardae’s sister nodded respectfully at the mention of the great horror of Kaaltendt’s history. She focused on ver Kleelan again. “I understand that. However, it does not explain how you knew that she had been sent into the Dragon Maids Corps, much less how you found out she was kidnapped since that did not happen until after we arrived in Suychet.”

Lord ver Kleelan looked solemn and serious for the first time since Rodgardae had the displeasure of meeting him. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, clasping his hands. “Despite decades of separation, I have always maintained an irregular correspondence with my brother, Lord Stigar ver Kleelan. It had to be kept secret as it would reflect poorly on the family if it was known, especially after Queen Theaedra scratched through my name. However, as soon as the scandal of Baron Stewardt’s treason broke, he sent word for me to return.”

Mani hummed. “To steal Lady Agadart away from the queen, if necessary, I take it?”

ver Kleelan nodded. “Hence my request to bring Foösh with me. He’s very loyal and his family owes a life debt to my liege. If we had to grab my niece and run, well, he’s much faster with that wingspan than I could ever hope to be.”

“Your liege…and who would that be?” Worthan, surprisingly, was the one who asked. Rodgardae’s sister just looked like she had eaten a sour fruit.

“She is not someone who wants her identity bandied about, but I am her consort, and she is my liege, and you will get no further information out of me than that.”

No one liked that answer, but it was clear that it was all he was going to say on the matter.

“Your unwillingness to name your true loyalties makes you suspect, surely you understand that?” Rodgardae’s sister said with a false veneer of pleasantry.

“I do. But as I explained to the younger admiral here, your opinion of me is immaterial. I am here to save my niece. Even if my brother had not charged me with doing so, it would be my only goal here, for many reasons. I do not care much about your wars.”

“Our war will become everyone’s war if the Isle of Watt falls, Lord ver Kleelan. Emperor Rhezv has made no secret of that.”

“Your liege is Wattish, isn’t she?” Mani spoke up. “She’s Wattish and she’s your mate.”

Rodgardae looked at him in surprise, then over at ver Kleelan, whose hair was up in an ancient style that very literally announced that he was a consort to a Wattish dragon of noble descent. ver Kleelan looked at Mani as if he had spoken gibberish, but then his expression cleared and he nodded. “She is old and flew into the Barrens a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down.” Rodgardae’s sister sighed. “We’ve had our share of draconic adventurers over the past hundred and fifty years. The price of being a hunk of rock in the middle of a massive ocean.”

“Did you know in Khzern the lifespan for dragons is five hundred years, not two hundred?” ver Kleelan said with a smirk.

“How?” Doctor Worthan asked, entranced.

“I’d rather get back to why we’re even having this meeting, if Consort ver Kleelan here is damned and determined to go haring off after his niece anyway.” Rodgardae’s sister spoke authoritatively, drawing everyone’s attention back to her.

“Admiral the Younger here had a proposal that I found interesting.”

“Admiral Leonteinparre the Younger,” Rodgardae snarled at ver Kleelan until Mani put his hand on his shoulder.

“I’m open to hearing it, obviously, since we’re all sitting here anyway,” Rodgardae’s sister said calmly, although Rodgardae (and probably every other dragon in the room) could tell that her patience was fraying.

Rodgardae took his cue and spoke up. “To cut to the chase, I think we should use Consort ver Kleelan’s intelligence about the Iskaryyvan forces to launch our own offensive attack.”

“Oh, not this again.” His sister rubbed her eyes. “RoRo—”

“I would appreciate it if everyone would stop saying ‘consort’ with such disdain. I am a consort, and I’m proud of it, same as Consort Roki sitting next to his mate over there,” ver Kleelan snapped.

Rodgardae’s sister looked at ver Kleelan with some small amount of respect for the first time. “Our apologies, Consort ver Kleelan.”

He sniffed haughtily, but then pointed at Rodgardae. “I am not opposed to his suggestion, if only because I know that getting to Agadart is going to be damn difficult as it is. It’s already been over a week since she was taken, and the longer this goes on, the more at risk she is. If you all launch a massive attack, it might be distracting enough for Foösh and I to get to her.”

“Do you even know where she is being held?” Rodgardae’s sister leaned forward.

“She was on an urshvalkin for a while, but I suspect she’s transferred to a different ship now, headed towards us.” ver Kleelan looked out the window as if he could see an armada in the distance.

“How would you know that?” Rodgardae asked pointedly.

“Which ship, then? If you know so much.” His sister talked over him.

“Oh, that’s easy. She’ll be put on the emperor’s flagship.”

Everyone was stunned into silence again by that, but ver Kleelan shrugged, looking specifically at Rodgardae, as if daring him to reveal the madness that Rodgardae knew lurked under the feral’s hide.

Because, of course, if Agadart was the heir of Princess Beatra, if she was the queen of Watt merely waiting to manifest, then of course Emperor Rhezv would have her on a short leash.

Consort ver Kleelan grinned at him, all pointed teeth.

“I’ll need proof of the validity of the intelligence you provide, but if it is true that the emperor’s flagship is in motion and headed our way…well.” His sister sighed and caught Rodgardae’s gaze. “Then our time has run out.”