“I am going to fix the humans’ stupid war for them,” was Instinct’s subtle and diplomatic way of bringing up our plans to Mother.

  I had… concerns about that approach, but Instinct had handled Mother well before, so I held back from either asking what the hell she was doing or trying to wrest back control. And perhaps those concerns were unfounded; Mother wasn’t delighted, exactly, but her reaction was nothing like when Instinct wanted to fight the two dragons loitering to the west. Instead she settled in and rumbled, “Are you, now?”

  Instinct shifted a little. She probably wouldn’t appreciate anyone pointing out that the considering look Mother fixed us with made her nervous enough that it bled over to me, so I kept silent. Still, fazed as she was, she forged on.

  “Yes,” she said, drawing herself up. “The humans of my city have failed to stop their enemies from advancing, and their cowardly allies have abandoned them. You would lay everything to ruin if I asked for your help, and I do not want that. So I will deal with it myself!”

  “Hrrrrmmm. And what is your plan to accomplish this?”

  “The human general is very eager for my help,” Instinct said importantly. “And if I do not like his suggestions I can drop stones on groups of the enemy, which is quite fun, or go into their camps at night and lay waste to them! Or I could scare off all their horses, or—!”

  As Instinct’s excitement at the prospect of abundant violence built, completely replacing the nervousness of just a moment ago, she seemed oblivious to the change in Mother’s attitude. It was a combination of subtle changes in posture and expression, but they came together to make her look less considering and more imperious.

  “You would engage these other humans directly?” Mother asked.

  “Yes!” Instinct said, still not seeing it. “That is how I can be most effective. And Mother, I crave violence! It has been too many days since I had a good fight!”

  Too many days?! I blurted into our shared mind. It’s only been two bloody weeks since that battle at the ford!

  “Not bloody enough!” Instinct snapped back at me.

  But my opinion didn’t matter nearly as much to her as Mother’s. Where she’d become annoyed and snippy with me, she wilted a little when Mother said, “No. No, I do not like it. Far too risky.”

  But to my surprise, she didn’t give in! “I must!” she insisted.

  Mother lowered her head, her nostrils flaring with displeasure. “You most certainly must not!”

  Instinct cringed, just a little, and my surprise turned to outright amazement when she still didn’t give in. “It is mine!” she said, and there was just a hint of a growl in her voice. A growl! Toward Mother! I damn near messed myself, figuratively speaking. And Mother was as shocked as I was, even pulling back a little as Instinct continued, her confidence growing with every word. “It is my city! Mine! If I let them take it they will dig themselves in and fester, and my humans will never be able to return safely! I will never be able to return without a fight! And I will not have it back for years and years, and not without far more effort and risk, and far more destruction. I will not let them take it!”

  Mother gave a long, low hiss, and Instinct hissed right back. Mother rumbled, and Instinct, pressed almost flat to the ground, flared her wings and lashed her tail, growling and hissing right back. It was possibly the most impressive display of stupid courage, or possibly blind faith in Mother’s unwillingness to hurt us, that I had ever seen.

  And it bloody worked! Mother’s eyes crinkled in what I could only read as consternation. She pulled back, looking down on us, and the threatening rumble slowly changed to a much more pleasant, almost amused one. “I see that you will not be dissuaded,” she said. “Very well. But on one condition.”

  Instinct peered up at her with a mix of excitement and suspicion. As she slowly rose she asked, “What?”

  “You will not join any battle where you cannot predict your adversaries. You are not invulnerable, as you are very well aware.” Her eyes narrowed, and I could swear that she glared at the scar on our shoulder; the scales lay a little unevenly where Soandel’s late bodyguard Katil had stabbed us. “I doubt any human who does not wield magic can harm you, but you can never know for certain which human that might be. You might simply not have seen them use their ability. So, you will promise me that you will take this basic precaution. You will not go into battle against any human whom you have not observed to the point that you know what to expect. And if you cannot promise me this, then I will do what I must to keep you safe. Is that understood?”

  “That is unfair!” Instinct whined.

  “Fair or not,” Mother replied, and she bit off every word, “that is how it will be. Or you can simply remain with your humans, and I will only have our rivals to worry about. Choose!”

  Instinct met her eyes for a second or two, then looked away and grumbled, “I will be careful.”

  “Do you promise to do as I said?”

  “I promise.”

  “Very good. I shall hold you to that. Do not let me see you return with any new scars, unless you have a very good explanation for how you got them.”

  “I already promised!” Instinct said indignantly. I couldn’t believe that she was still talking back, but she kept doing it, and it kept working!

  “So you did,” Mother agreed patiently. “But you are young, and I, believe it or not, remember what that is like: the temptation to prove yourself at every turn, to establish your superiority over your lessers; the intoxication of spreading carnage unhindered among any who would stand against you; the sheer delight of wreaking terror and destruction, just because you can. It has been long since I allowed myself to indulge, but I remember very well. So do not mistake me: I will expect you to restrain yourself, and to cleave to the promise you just made. Do not disappoint me.”

  “I would not!” Instinct said, getting really annoyed now that the battle was mostly won.

  “I am sure that you would never intend to,” Mother said, stern but still patient. “But there will be many temptations. Be mindful of what you do! Now, let us not speak of this anymore. We have agreed, and it is too fine a day to waste it on squabbles.”

  She’s right, I told Instinct. We should take what she’s willing to give and be satisfied with that.

  “We came here as a courtesy, not to have restrictions put on us!” she replied.

  You’re right, I told her. There really wasn’t anything to argue about there. But you know how protective she is. This was always a possibility. And you did very well! You were right that I should trust you.

  I figured that a little flattery couldn’t hurt, and I was right. “Of course you were,” she said with the arrogant tone she usually used with us, but I could tell how pleased she was at my praise.

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  Really! I said, laying it on a bit extra. I thought she’d absolutely refuse. Then when she got mad, and you got her to back down… I don’t think I could have done that. Well done! Really!

  She was so damn pleased. And yeah, I was intentionally trying to play on her ego to get her to listen to me, but I wasn’t exaggerating. She’d impressed me. She really had. No matter how impressed I was with her, though, I really needed her to fall in line. The restriction Mother had demanded wasn’t bad, because she wasn’t wrong. Throwing ourselves into pitched battles was a numbers game — it was only a matter of time before we came across another Tark, or another Katil, and there was no way of knowing if we’d see them coming or if we’d only realize the danger when something stabbed us in the gut, or hacked us in the neck — or head — or something similarly unpleasant.

  There was only one thing left. We need to— I started.

  Instinct interrupted me, saying, “I know! Do not worry!” Then she turned to Mother and said, “I did not come here to argue. But I did want to ask something of you.”

  “Oh? You did not come to keep your old mother company, then?”

  “No,” Instinct said unhappily. “I would have liked to, but there is so little time! No, I wished to ask that you look after my humans while I am away.”

  Mother’s eyes crinkled, and she tilted her head with amusement. “You were so sure that I would agree with your plan?”

  “I was sure that I would go no matter what you said,” Instinct answered honestly, “and if there were consequences, then so be it. But I hoped that you would see how important this is to me. And you already know how important the Herald and the others are.”

  Mother huffed, then leant down and nudged us in the side with her snout so firmly that we rocked to the side. It was an entirely affectionate gesture, Instinct and I both knew that, but it was a little scary to just be pushed around like that. Mercies, but she was strong!

  “In truth,” she said, and she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, as though there was anyone for a hundred miles or more who might understand what we were saying, “from the moment you told me of your errand, I never expected you to listen. It is immensely frustrating, and immensely gratifying to see you so headstrong so early. As to your request I cannot promise to stay with your humans at all times. You know why. But I can, I think, try to remain with them throughout the night. Will that satisfy you?”

  “That is when they will need it the most,” Instinct grumbled. “It will do. Thank you.”

  “Thank me by listening to me, and by being careful. And whatever you do, dear daughter, do not let these humans think that you are at their beck and call. If they think that they can command you, they will attempt to abuse it, and you will only have to correct them in the long run.”

  “Mother!” Instinct huffed indignantly. “What do you think of me?!”

  “I think that you have a fondness for humans that I have never seen in any other dragon save your father,” Mother said. Her tone was still amused and kind, but now it took on an edge of warning. “I think that you would risk your own safety for the sake of one of their cities, and that you would ask me to watch over your humans as they sleep, when there are rivals abroad. In short, dear daughter, I think that you are willing, at least somewhat, to compromise your dignity for the sake of these amusing creatures you are so fond of. Take care you do not let it go too far.”

  “I would not let some human order me around,” Instinct grumbled.

  “I am sure,” Mother said, more than a little patronizing. “But be that as it may, it is worth saying. I do not wish to speak ill of your father, but he let that favorite of his lead him around by the horns sometimes.”

  It occurred to me, then, that she wasn’t only referring to Sarvalian and the Council. She was talking about Herald! She didn’t say it right out, but I suspected very strongly that she’d either seen, or heard, or just figured out that there was very little I wouldn’t do if Herald asked me to. I was very glad that she hadn’t challenged Instinct directly on that, because with my headmate’s pride there was no good way that conversation could possibly play out.

  Instinct, mercifully, let it go. That, or she missed it entirely, which I doubted. She was a big, arrogant, scaly bitch, and she sometimes had the impulse control of the toddler that she basically was, but she kept doing little things like this that raised my opinion of her.

  We spent a few hours longer with Mother, simply because Instinct wanted to. The sooner we got back to the front, the better, but I wasn’t going to rush her after she’d been so good. We did some flying, practiced some draconic — which Instinct still handled far better than I did — and went and ate a Rift together. It was nice. Mother seemed to appreciate it. And then it was time to go.

  I would have loved to go see my humans again, but we’d spent long enough already. Instead I let Instinct fly while I poured myself across the miles into Herald, explaining the situation to them all as they listened with varying levels of awe and discomfort — Tam, for all that he tried, wasn’t entirely onboard with the whole, “my dragon sister can speak through my human sister” thing.

  Once I was done speaking with the humans, and once we’d put some good distance between us and Mother, Instinct handed back full control without a fuss.

  The flight back to the front took me somewhere between two and three hours, and I arrived early in the afternoon to great fanfare. I got the feeling that they hadn’t exactly counted on me to return, and I loved how much cheering I was met by when I glided in over the camp. There might be mixed feelings about me in the city, but the army had seen my worth; they were firmly on my side. And while I didn’t expect it to become relevant, I was pretty sure that history had shown, time and time again and across time and cultures, that if you had the army on your side you were pretty much home free.

  It wasn’t just the rank and file that were happy to see me, either. This time around, General Sarvalian cleared his schedule the moment I arrived.

  He came to greet me outside his tent, with literal open arms and “Lady Draka! Welcome back!”

  His welcome was exuberant enough to make me suspicious, considering how restrained he usually was in front of his subordinates. And he had plenty of those. He was accompanied by several aides of various kinds as well as two of his tribunes: Verland — who might be his fiance? She certainly seemed to think so — and Veretil.

  “General Sarvalian,” I replied coolly. “I said I’d be back.”

  “So you did,” he agreed, looking like I was a lost favorite toy that had unexpectedly turned up somewhere. “But life has had a nasty way of disappointing me lately. I do take your meaning, though, and you have my apologies for doubting your sincerity. Now, shall we discuss details as you rest? Would you like some food and drink?”

  “Apologies accepted,” I said. I probably could have milked him for something more substantial than words, but there was plenty of time for that later. “And yes. A barrel of water and some meat would be lovely right about now.”

  “As you say!” The general didn’t even need to give the order. Two aides immediately took off, presumably to see to my lunch. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to follow me, we’ve actually had an appropriately sized tent set up in expectation of your return.”

  And so they did! The thing was practically a circus tent compared to the rest of the camp, sixty feet wide with a top fifteen feet high, and the opening was large enough that I could just walk right in without worrying about bringing the whole thing down. Inside was a small field of large pillows and what looked like sacks stuffed with hay for me to lie on, before a table at what should be a convenient height for a standing human or a relaxing dragon. I had no idea how they’d managed it all so quickly, but I felt very accommodated.

  What followed was basically an hour of Sarvalian and his tribunes laying out the situation, which was best summarized as “bad,” and me laying out my restrictions. I didn’t tell them that those restrictions only existed because Mummy Dearest had dictated them; I simply told them that I wasn’t going to risk my life unnecessarily, but that there were a lot of things I was willing to do for Karakan and her army.

  For example: “How sure are you about their positions along the front?” I asked, swiping a claw along the map on the table between us. On it a number of camps were marked, with approximate strengths.

  “They are frustratingly approximate,” Veretil said, his enormous eyebrows crashing together as he frowned.

  “Well, give me Darim and let’s start there, then. It’s a nice, clear day. I’ll stay at a thousand feet. We’ll be perfectly safe, the Happarans will see me and piss themselves whenever they look up, and Darim can report back on their positions, numbers, and if they’re moving.”

  “Pardon, but didn’t you prefer to fly at night when you last helped us?” Versil asked.

  “Well, yeah. I’m practically invisible at night. But that was before I’d wiped out a company or two of them. Now the goal is fear as much as reconnaissance. We can save the night flights for when we know the best tent to drop a quarter ton of rock on.”

  The way they all blanched or shuddered at the thought of being woken by five hundred pounds of rock dropping on them was very satisfying. And I wasn’t joking, either. Dropping rocks on enemy camps had been Val’s first idea when I told my family about bombing the White Cranes, and I’d been itching to try it out.

  “Well,” General Sarvalian said, “Watch Officer Darim is at your disposal. And when you return we can discuss these other interesting ideas of yours.”

  His smile told me that he couldn’t wait to see what a kinetic strike by a dragon might look like.

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