something else.
Nerra paused as she caught sight of a clearing that looked as though something large had been in it, branches broken, ground trampled. Had it been a boar, or maybe a pack of them? Was there a bear about somewhere, large enough that maybe the hunt was needed after all? Nerra couldn’t see any bear prints among the trees though, or indeed anything at all that suggested something had come through on foot.
She could see an egg though, sitting in the middle of the clearing, rolled onto one side on the grass.
She froze, wondering.
It can’t be.
There were stories, of course, and the castle’s galleries had some petrified versions, devoid of any life.
But this… it couldn’t really be…
She made her way closer to it, and now she could start to take in the sheer size of the egg. It was huge, big enough that Nerra’s arms would barely have fit around it if she had tried to embrace it. Big enough that no bird could have laid it.
It was a rich, deep blue that was almost black, with golden veins running through it like streaks of lightning across a night sky. When Nerra reached out, ever so tentatively, to touch it, she felt that the surface of it was strangely warm in a way that no egg should have been. That, as much as any of the rest of it, confirmed what she had found.
A dragon’s egg.
That was impossible. How long had it been since someone had seen a dragon? Even those stories were of great winged beasts flying the skies, not of eggs. Dragons were never helpless, small things. They were huge and terrifying and impossible. But Nerra couldn’t think what else this could be.
And now the choice is mine.
She knew she couldn’t just walk away now that she’d seen the egg here, abandoned with no sign of a nest the way a bird would lay its clutch. If she did that, the odds were that something would simply come and eat the egg, destroying the creature within. That, or there would be people, and she had no doubt that they would sell it. Or crush it out of fear. People could be cruel sometimes.
She couldn’t take it home with her either. Imagine that, walking through the gates of the castle with a dragon’s egg in her hands. Her father would have it taken from her in a heartbeat, probably for Master Grey to study. At best, the creature within would find itself caged and poked at. At worst… Nerra shuddered at the thought of the egg being dissected by scholars of the House of Knowledge. Even Physicker Jarran would probably want to take it apart to study it.
Where then?
Nerra tried to think.
She knew the woods as well as she knew the path to her chambers. There had to be somewhere that would be better than simply leaving the egg in the open…
Yes, she knew just the place.
She wrapped her arms around the egg, the heat of it strange against her body as she lifted it. It was heavy, and for a moment Nerra was worried she might drop it, but she managed to clasp her hands together and start off through the woods.
It took a while to find the spot that she was looking for, looking out for the aspen trees that signaled the small space where the old cave was, marked out by stones that were long since mossed over. It opened in the side of a small hill in the midst of the wood, and Nerra could see from the ground around it that nothing had decided to use it as a resting place. That was good; she didn’t want to take her prize somewhere it would be in fresh danger.
The clearing suggested that dragons didn’t make nests, but Nerra made one for the egg anyway, collecting twigs and branches, brush and grass, then weaving all of it slowly into a rough oval on which she was able to rest the egg. She pushed the whole thing back into the dark half of the cave, confident that nothing would be able to see it from outside.
“There,” she said to it. “You’ll be safe now, at least until I work out what to do with you.”
She found tree branches and foliage, deliberately covering the entrance. She took rocks and rolled them into place, each so big she could barely move it. She hoped it would be enough to keep away all the things that might try to get inside.
She was just finishing when she heard a sound and turned with a start. There among the trees was the boy she had glimpsed before. He stood there staring at her as if trying to work out what he’d seen.
“Wait,” Nerra called out to him, but the very shout was enough to startle him. He turned and ran off, leaving Nerra wondering exactly what he had seen, and who he would tell.
She had a sinking feeling that it was too late.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Princess Erin knew she shouldn’t be here, riding through the forest on the way north to the Spur. She should be back at the castle, being fitted for a dress for her older sister’s wedding, but just the thought of it was enough to make her wince.
It brought too many thoughts of what might be waiting for her next, and why she’d left. At the very least, she would rather be riding here in tunic, doublet, and breeches than standing there playing dress-up while Rodry made fun of her with his friends, and Greave moped about, and Vars… Erin shuddered. No, better to be out here, doing something useful, something that would prove she was more than just some daughter to marry off.
She rode through the forest, taking in the plants along the side of the path as she passed, even though those were more Nerra’s fascination than hers. She rode past broad oak and silver birch, seeing the shadows they cast and trying not to think about all the spaces those shadows gave for someone to hide.
Her father would probably be angry with her for coming out without an escort. Princesses needed to be protected, he would tell her. They didn’t wander off alone into places like this, places where the trees seemed to close in and the path was little more than a suggestion. He would be angry at her for more than that, of course. He probably thought she hadn’t heard the conversation with her mother, the one that had sent her off practically running for the stables.
“We need to find a husband for Erin,” her mother had said.
“A husband? She’s as likely to ask for more sword lessons,” her father had replied.
“And that’s the point. A girl shouldn’t be doing such things, putting herself in that kind of danger. We need to find a husband for her.”
“After the wedding,” her father had said. “There will be plenty of nobles there for the feasting and the hunting. Maybe we can find a young man who will make a suitable husband for her.”
“We might need to offer a dowry for her.”
“Then we will. Gold, a dukedom, whatever is most suitable for my daughter.”
The betrayal had been instant, and absolute. Erin had strode to her room to gather her things: her staff and her clothes, a pack full of supplies. She had sworn to herself then that she wouldn’t be coming back.
“Besides,” she said to her horse, “I’m old enough to do what I want.”
She might be the youngest of all her siblings, but she was still sixteen. She might not be everything her mother wanted—too boyish with her dark hair cut at shoulder
