I blushed and wasn’t sure why. “Be careful,” I said.

Part of me wished I had hugged Tristan, but it would have been awkward beforehand and was impossible now. We hadn’t been alone at all since he’d tried to kiss me, and it felt like both of us were waiting for an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked yet.

Hunter mounted his horse with more ease than I’d expected and the two of them rode off, with Mr. Ogden bouncing in the cart behind Tristan.

Chapter 21

Jane and I wandered around the village killing time. We hardly talked at all, but I could tell by the way she had to stay in constant motion—tapping her foot, fiddling with her dress—that her thoughts were circling around Hunter. I knew it was hard for her to keep all that anxiety inside. She wasn’t talking about him because she thought it would be painful for me to hear about her feelings for him.

After two hours had gone by, a lot of the villagers crawled up on their roofs in hopes of seeing the dragon in the distant sky.

Tristan had explained the way of dragons to us before he’d left. Dragons were slow moving and awkward while walking because their wings and tails dragged on the ground—thus the name, dragons. That’s why they always stayed put in their lairs unless they were hunting or frightened. If startled, they took to the air at once, where they had the advantage of height and speed at their command.

So when Tristan and Hunter got close enough to the dragon’s lair that it could smell the pig, we should be able to see the shape of the dragon take off into the sky.

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As the villagers climbed the inn’s roof, I heard tidbits of conversation, people discussing Tristan’s odds of success like it was a football match.

“The bloke’s no archer. He hasn’t a chance.”

“I hear he has magic. Something to do with a pig.”

“Pig magic? Can’t be powerful. I reckon he’ll be dead before we can toast his victory over the cyclops on the morrow.”

All of it made my stomach turn. Still, I wanted to see the events for myself. I’d rather see it firsthand than have to ask the villagers what they’d seen. I left the inn and headed for the church. It had the highest roof and was the only one in the village that wasn’t thatch.

Someone had pushed a ladder against the side, and several people—including the priest—were already on top.

Jane followed me up, all the while telling me that we shouldn’t be up here because there were no building codes in the Middle Ages and the roof was likely to col-lapse. Luckily, I’d had practice ignoring her.

I took a seat next to the priest. He was reciting something in Latin; I hoped it was a prayer for Tristan. I pressed my arms around my knees and stared in the same direction that everyone else was looking. Jane sat next to me. We didn’t talk.

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The sun kept creeping across the sky. Certainly it had been long enough, hadn’t it? The villagers had stopped their noisy chatter and were looking above the tree line in earnest. Now their predictions were given in hushed tones, perhaps out of respect for us. “Did misfortune be-fall them before they reached the lair?” one asked. “Perhaps they’ve turned back,” another said.

“Or the dragon killed them without ever having to take flight.”

Jane looked dully at the horizon. Her voice was no more than a whisper. “This is my fault.” I turned to her, surprised. “Your fault?”

“If I hadn’t taken Hunter away from you, then you wouldn’t have wished for a prince to take you to prom.

You’d be going with him and he’d still be alive.” She looked blankly at the sky, the spirit drained from her.

“He’s still alive,” I said.

She shook her head. “We haven’t seen the dragon take flight. That means it was never frightened. He didn’t . . .

I shouldn’t have . . .” She let out a ragged moan. “I made Hunter come here.”

I took her hand, trying to keep her worry from spinning out of control. “Tristan has been living here for eight months. He knows how to take care of himself. He won’t let anything happen to Hunter.” 316/431

She squeezed my hand. Her breathing came in labored spurts. “You really think so?”

“If we never see the dragon in the sky, it only means they thought of a way to kill it before it took flight.

They’re probably already on their way home and they’ll laugh once they see us all up here on the roofs.” I glanced down at the ground. “Or they’ll yell at us because they didn’t have building codes in the Middle Ages and sitting up here is dangerous.” Her grip on my hand loosened. “You’re sure?” I didn’t have time to answer. The crowd around us gasped. My gaze shot to the sky, and there in the distance was the outline of a dragon, wings beating, rising above the trees. It was too far away to make out any detail. I could just see the enormous wings, long neck, horned head, and the tail that curled slightly as it flew.

The priest beside me broke out into a new chant. Latin words tumbled over one another in loud succession. I squeezed Jane’s hand back. The dragon paused in flight, its wings only moving slightly as it hovered, then it swooped back downward.

None of us breathed. None of us spoke. We waited. I said my own prayer, repeating Tristan’s name over and over again in my mind.

The dragon rose back up above the tree line and I could make out the shape of something in its mouth.

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Four legs stuck out—was it the pig? It looked too big for a pig. The legs were too long. Then I realized what it was. A horse.

Something had gone wrong.

I squinted at the dragon. Had there been a rider on that horse before the dragon grabbed it? Was there one on it still? I couldn’t tell. A slow moan came from my mouth, a moan I couldn’t stop.

The dragon tilted up his head and the entire horse disappeared into his mouth. The next moment a blast of light appeared where the dragon’s head had been. A clap like thunder went through the sky, and the dragon plummeted straight down, leaving a trail of black smoke to show where it had been.

The crowd around me lifted up their arms and cheered. Some even stood up and clapped, yelling,

“Long live Sir Tristan, the brave! Sir Tristan, the mighty dragon slayer!”

Jane turned to me, her face flushed with excitement.

“They did it. The dragon ate the pig.” I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say, or if I should say anything.

“Look at you,” she said with a relieved smile. “You were as afraid as I was. You’re white as a ghost.”

“Am I?” I told myself that I was wrong, that it had been the pig and not a horse, but my stomach still felt 318/431

like it had torn open. Tristan and Hunter had both left with bags of black powder in their saddlebags. Had the dragon discovered them before they had a chance to tie the bags onto the pig?

Which horse had it been? It had been so far away—but the shape had seemed dark. Hunter’s horse had been dark brown, Tristan’s a lighter color. Besides, Tristan’s horse had a cart attached. There had been no trace of that in the sky.

The priest said, “Everyone must get down so I can ring the bell. Ten rings—the death of a monster!” Another cheer went up, and the villagers headed for the ladder. The discussion now turned to the castle feast. What dancing and eating there would be!

I wanted to yell at all of them to stop it, that they didn’t know what they were talking about, that something horrible had happened. I didn’t. There was no point in frightening Jane. No sense in telling her I thought Hunter wouldn’t return to us.

We climbed down from the roof and walked back toward the inn. “What should we do while we wait for the guys to come back?” Jane asked me.

I shook my head, unable to speak.