Arturo waited outside the boss’s office, bobbing his head to the beat of his music.

  Three weeks had passed since the battle, and things were a total shitstorm on this side of the river. Callo del Sol lay in ruins, especially the north half of the hotel, which still couldn’t decide if it wanted to topple over.

  Phones rang around the loft, and exhausted workers scrambled between their desks, relying on extra coffee to keep them on their feet. It looked less like a revolution at this point, and more like a typical office space in Koreldon City.

  Hundreds of people had lost their jobs in the battle, and they all looked to Kyzar for answers. How long until the roads were open? What about the broken roofs or the rubble in the parking lots? Where could they work in the meantime?

  Kyzar could have ignored them, of course, but that would be a mistake. You needed civilians to turn the gears of war, and those civilians would all skip town if they couldn’t make ends meet. Some might even defect to Unida’s side if they got too desperate.

  The wooden floors groaned behind him, and Arturo spun to see a massive half-dragon approaching. He had dark green scales, and he wore a sleeveless black shirt that showed off his muscular arms.

  “Hey.” Arturo lowered his headphones and nodded up at the newcomer. “You’re Zukan, right?”

  Zukan gave him a formal nod. “My brother asked me to meet him at ten thirty.”

  “You too, huh?” Arturo felt his shoulders relax; at least this meant he probably wasn’t in trouble. “Any idea what he wants?”

  “I’d suspect he has new orders for us.”

  “Great.” Arturo leaned back against the wall. “Can’t be worse than repair duty.”

  Zukan gave him a curious look. “I thought you were a sigilcraft expert?”

  “Oh, I am. But the stuff on Callo del Sol is a total clown show. We really need to burn it all down and start from scratch.” He held up his hands in defeat “But nobody wants the expert’s opinion. They just want it fixed.”

  The dragon hummed in consideration. “Yes, I could see how that might be frustrating.”

  They waited in silence for a few more minutes, then the door to the office swung open on its creaking hinges. A woman with a black ponytail stepped out into the main loft, gesturing a finger over her shoulder. “He’s ready for you guys, now.”

  Zukan ducked his head as he stepped through the open doorway, and Arturo limped a few paces behind him. Kyzar’s office was a glorified supply closet, with a simple wooden desk in the center, and a row of metal filing cabinets around the edges. The curtains hung halfway open, revealing a glimpse of Tureko’s skyline in the morning sun.

  Kyzar leaned forward in his padded leather chair, resting his elbows on the desk. Arturo had never seen the Unmarked leader up close before, but he looked like an older, less muscular version of Zukan. A black patch covered his left eye, a souvenir from his fight with Zakiel.

  “Shut the door,” he said. “Then make yourselves comfortable.”

  Zukan closed the door and loomed over the offered seat like a soldier waiting for orders. Arturo just shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to keep his weight off his wounded leg.

  “Congratulations, Zukan.” Kyzar retrieved a crisp white envelope and slid it across the desk toward his brother. “You’ve just been accepted to Koreldon University.”

  Zukan frowned down at the paper. Well, Arturo thought it was a frown, but it was hard to tell with dragons. Every expression looked like a glare or a sneer. “I wasn’t aware I applied.”

  “You didn’t,” Kyzar said. “I applied for you.” Zukan opened his mouth to protest, but Kyzar held up a clawed hand. “I know, I know. But we need to look at the bigger picture here. Let’s say we defeat the Grevandi tomorrow. What then? We’ll never have peace while our cousin rules this nation.”

  “I don’t understand,” Zukan said. “What does that have to do with me?”

  Kyzar turned his golden eye toward Arturo, then back to his brother. “I’m saying this war only ends one way. Creta needs a new Dragonlord. Someone who can earn the respect of both factions.”

  “That should be you,” Zukan said. “You’re the older brother.”

  Kyzar shifted his eye patch and rubbed at the wound beneath. “My place is here.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  “So is mine.”

  “Yes, but I need you to get stronger first.”

  “I’m the strongest Apprentice in Creta.” Zukan’s tone wasn’t boastful; he was simply stating a fact. He’d held his own against dozens of Grevandi in the battle, and he’d beaten most of his peers in the dueling ring. He might even be better than Relia Dawnfire.

  “Exactly,” Kyzar said. “That means you’ll grow stagnant if you stay here. The Artegium is one of the best schools in the world. Your peers will force you to advance quicker.”

  Arturo cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt, but this feels like a private talk. Why am I here?”

  Kyzar met his eyes again. “There aren’t many dragons in the Artegium, and Zukan’s bound to have enemies there. He could use a friend—someone to watch his back and show him around.”

  Arturo blinked. Whatever he’d expected from this meeting, it sure as hell hadn’t been that. “You know I graduated last year, right?”

  The older dragon nodded. “You’ll be studying combat this time.”

  “Look . . .” Arturo rubbed the back of his neck. “I appreciate the faith and all, but I already applied to the combat program once. I failed admissions. The mana portion, I mean.”

  “I know your story,” Kyzar said. “Including the part about your undeveloped channels. But a lot can change in four years. Besides, we both know you’ve thought about going back to school. This is your chance to get what you want, while still supporting our cause.” The Artisan leaned back with a casual shrug. “Or you can go back to fixing broken sigil grids. The choice is yours.”

  Arturo thought back to the recent battle, and the memories were as sharp as the pain in his right thigh. He’d been ready to prove himself in his homeland, but those last few fights had served as a brutal reminder of his own limits.

  If he wanted to survive down here, he would need more experience, better tech, and stronger techniques. A few more years in the Artegium might be just the thing.

  “Alright,” Zukan broke the silence beside him. “If these are your orders . . .”

  Kyzar shook his head. “It’s not an order. It’s what must be done. For Creta”

  They both turned to Arturo next, and he gave a slow nod. “For Creta.”

  ~~~

  Valeria Zantano stepped off the dock into an aluminum fishing boat. The vessel rocked beneath her weight for several seconds, but it leveled out as she lowered herself onto the cushioned vinyl seat.

  As the Dragonlord’s Spymaster, she’d attended her share of secret nighttime meetings. There were some tasks she couldn’t trust to anyone. Not even her most loyal Fangs.

  What would happen if her brother discovered this meeting? She honestly couldn’t say. He might be forced to kill Valeria’s contact. Perhaps he’d even be forced to kill Valeria herself, depending on the severity of the oath to Elend Darklight. She hadn’t been there when he’d sworn it, and no one else had heard the words.

  Even if she had been there, she couldn’t claim to understand a Grandmaster’s intention. Especially with Elend Darklight, who was clearly an expert in this field. That had been her brother’s first mistake; he specialized in combat and raw power, but he’d tried to beat a dream artist at his own game.

  They’d had Darklight at their mercy for weeks. They should have killed him when they had the chance, then dealt with the consequences later. But no . . . her brother had done the ‘reasonable’ thing.

  Such tactics only worked against reasonable opponents.

  Valeria had altered her appearance tonight, hiding her hair, and making her features look more dragon than human. Technically, any Master-level dragon could shapeshift in this way. It was a remnant from the Primordial Age—a time when aspecting meant something more than just altering your soul’s mana.

  She guided the boat across the river, using subtle pushes of her mana against the water. It was well past midnight, and she’d expected to see another boat by now. Instead, she saw a man sitting cross-legged on the water’s surface. The wind blew in heavy gales from the east, but the river remained still around him.

  A water artist? Either that, or he’d consumed a vial of water mana and learned this one technique. That seemed like overkill for this meeting. Then again, the Sons of Talek had always liked theatricality.

  The figure took his time getting to his feet. His soul showed an Artisan’s power, but souls could be veiled. Veleria was veiling her own power at this very moment. After all, what use was a physical disguise when Creta only had two Masters?

  The man stepped closer, revealing his face in the moonlight. He wore his black hair back in a knot, and his features looked more Shokenese than Cadrian. A thin black beard framed his face, but he couldn’t have been older than twenty.

  “Your name?” His tone was curt and swift as an assassin’s blade. Yes, he must be a Master. No mere Artisan would dare speak to her like that. Twenty was young for a Master, but Shoken had a wealth of secret knowledge when it came to mana arts. Some claimed they were even stronger than Espiria.

  People called her brother a tyrant, but the Shokenese Empire had once colonized half the world and hoarded vast libraries for themselves. Now, in this ‘civilized’ age, they frowned at anyone who sought even a small piece of it.

  Valeria let her features fade back to their normal appearance. This man was obviously her contact, so she had nothing to hide from him. Green mana flashed around her as she transformed. Black hair fell around her shoulders, her face flattened, and her skin regained its human-like softness.

  “Valeria Zantano,” she said. “Spymaster of Creta, and Left Wing of the Dragonlord. I’m calling in a favor for my brother.” Her words were technically true, even if her brother had forbidden this meeting. A good Wing didn’t just listen to her lord’s commands; she saw to his needs. She even kept secrets when it was necessary.

  Elend Darklight might be untouchable now, but the same wasn’t true for his students. They’d all left their lives of luxury to invade a poor nation and hunt her people for sport. They’d aided Kyzar’s band of insurgents and left hundreds of dead bodies in their wake.

  Valeria could ignore all that if she had to. It was a cruel world, after all. But Akari Zeller had killed her only son. For that, the girl had to die.

  “A pleasure to meet you.” The man pressed his hand to his palm and gave her a shallow bow. “My name is Sozen Trengsen. I think we can help each other.”