Free Dragon Flight by Jessica Day George Page A

or Amacarin might eat him.”
    Marta had named her monkey Ruli, and even as we spoke Ruli was probably tearing apart our cave. Hescreamed constantly, shredded any parchment he could get his little hands on, and urinated on anyone who offended him.
    And he was very easy to offend.
    Grimacing as we reached the top of the stairs, I said in a low voice, “We may have to uncollar each dragon by hand.”
    “But first, the king,” Marta said.
    Judging by the rumpled clothes and disarranged coiffures of the others waiting to see Nason, some of them had slept there at least one night. I gave Marta a despairing look. She tossed her braids over her shoulder and marched to the wide doors at the opposite end of the room, dragging me and the basket along with her.
    “We’re here to see his Effulgence,” Marta told the guards at the doors. Her voice was bright, confident, and she showed not the slightest bit of notice of the outraged stares of the other people waiting. “Laan no tishbaln verr Nason-e,” she said, repeating our goal in Citatian. Luka had coached us in a few phrases, but assured us that the king spoke Feravelan as well.
    The guard pointed to some chairs. “You wait,” he said, smirking. “Wait long time maybe.”
    “No,” I said loudly.
    “Have to,” he said, smirking even more gleefully. “Wait, wait, wait.”
    Marta drew a deep breath. “We have to wait?” Her voice rose an octave on the last word. Lower liptrembling, tears welled in her big blue eyes.
    Stifling my admiration, I stepped into the fray. “You’ve made her cry,” I snapped at the guard, patting Marta’s back. “You awful man! And imagine what the king will say when he finds out that you kept us waiting here … kept
him
waiting for us to bring his new clothes!” I swept an arm around the room. “We shouldn’t be here at all! Look at these people! Peasants with land disputes! Common merchants! Gah!”
    The flood of words gave the guard pause, then his brow cleared and he gave me an appalled look. “King … wait? King … ask for … clothes?” He pointed at the basket.
    I whipped back the lid to show him the satin coat, while Marta continued to blubber in fine style. “Yes,” I said, pointing to the embroidery of the coat. “The king’s new coat,” I said loudly and clearly, as though speaking to an idiot. Then I put the lid back on and patted Marta’s arm this time. “Don’t worry,” I soothed, still in a voice that carried. “We’ll tell the king this man wouldn’t let us see him.”
    A moment later we were ushered through the door and down a short corridor. We found ourselves standing before another pair of guards, very large men holding unsheathed scimitars. The doors that they guarded were plated with gold and inlaid with lapis lazuli and onyx.
    “We have brought the king’s clothing, as requested,” I said boldly, before Marta had to start crying again.
    The guards were so alike that I thought they must be brothers, if not twins, and now they raised their eyebrows in perfect synchronicity. They looked at us, then at each other, then at the basket. Once more, I pulled off the lid to reveal the contents.
    At last they stepped aside to let us pass through the golden doors and we were ushered into the presence of King Nason of Citatie.

White As Bone
    No stranger to courts and kings, and wanting to keep up my brash pose, I took several steps into the throne room before I noticed the silence and the emptiness. I drew up short, looking around the cavernous room with its dim lamps reflecting off marble pillars and gilded chairs that no one was sitting on.
    Then Marta made a small noise and let go of her end of the basket, and I saw the dragon.
    Curled at the far end of the room, just behind the throne of hammered gold, was one of the largest dragons I had ever seen. His body was easily as big as a good-sized cottage, and his neck and tail made him even longer and more imposing. It was hard to tell, because he was coiled