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which was as unwanted as any thought of fate.
    He hadn’t noticed a woman the way he noticed her in . . . He couldn’t recall a more visceral, compelling attraction.
    â€œWhat?” His question was gruff. Had he spoken that way before the Council, the two representatives from each clan would’ve known a barb had struck home, or a protest had been met with his frustration. It was another rarity he shared with only the Pet.
    â€œThis mark.” She tipped another arrow into the light. “What does it look like to you?”
    Mal examined it more closely. Shining in the last of the light was an engraving. “The Pendray representation of the Great Dragon,” he said, the hairs on his forearms prickling.
    â€œExactly. An Earth Mother. Fat and fertile. Yet winged with a tail. Breathing fire.”
    Examining the arrow in his hand, Mal found another engraving. “This one’s Garnis. Thin and long, like the Chinese interpretation.”
    Sure enough, each of the arrows was marked with a clan’s differing vision. Somewhere throughout the centuries, the idea of Great Dragon—their creator, their mother and father combined into one—had splintered until no clan could agree on its true likeness. They could find less vital topics to bicker about on any given day, but the image of the Dragon brought out fierce tempers. The most level-headed of their kind still mustered loyalties enough to argue the point.
    â€œWhich do you believe?” he asked. “Since you’re so intent on believing in myths and superstitions.”
    â€œNone of them are real, so it would be a waste of breath.”
    He handed the arrow back and watched as the Pet reverently returned it to the unassuming quiver. “None of them are real?”
    â€œWe split into five pieces. Do you think any one clan got it right?” She stood and shouldered the quiver. It looked good across her back, the weapon of a fey creature from another era. “I’m done here.”
    â€œThen you’re ready to return to Greece?”
    â€œI’d rather resume—”
    Her answer was cut short by the sound of footsteps. She dropped low against the wall. Mal turned—just in time to avoid the downward arc of a huge, glittering sword.
    *  *  *
    The Pet hadn’t known she could move so quickly. Just because she had been raised by a Garnis family, with their superhuman reflexes and animalistic senses, didn’t mean she was blessed with their special skills. Her instincts said that didn’t matter. Three Pendray wearing the collars of Cage warriors leapt over the wall in the throes of berserker rages.
    She jumped almost straight up, landing in a crouched balance on the top of a wall. A sharp spike of glassy rock pierced the sole of her boot. Malnefoley had fallen backward, scrambling crablike away from his attackers. Had he not reacted so quickly, he would be dead—his head severed forever from his body. The glittering metal meant the Pendray wielded a Dragon-forged sword. Its metal had been honed in the fires of the Chasm. Decapitation by such a weapon was the only way to kill a Dragon King.
    The Pet jumped off the wall and onto the back of one of the Pendray. With her knees on his shoulders, she clamped her thighs and squeezed. His rage was so intense that he resembled an angered wolf, spinning and snarling. He flailed back with his arms, trying to dislodge her. She wrapped her forearm around his eyes. His bellows were more powerful than an animal’s howls, like a bear ready to swallow her whole. She used her brass knuckles to repeatedly punch his temple. He staggered, then caught her around the waist and flipped her onto the ground.
    She landed on her side. The wind gusted out of her lungs. She reached behind her back and grabbed one of the seemingly fragile arrows.
    The Pet exhaled and strove for calm. If the arrows were strong enough to serve as Cadmin’s weapons in