Smoke fills the air and stains the sky a bruised mottled brown. Everywhere the stench of soot and ash, of homes razed and burnt flesh. The smell coats my tongue with a film. No matter how many times I spit, I cannot rid myself of the taste of death.

I may never eat meat again.

Plaintive wails haunt the walled city like eerie music. Somewhere, a child cries. The noise is muted, yet somehow more terrible for all its softness. Grief's melody is a razor so sharp you don't feel the cut, you just bleed.

The doorway to King's Hold is charred, but intact. The man I'm following motions to one of the guards, and they pull the massive slab aside. Acid burns my throat at what I see beyond.

Pristine corridors, safe behind feet of solid rock, show none of the damage outside. Even the air is cleaner here. I clench my fists to keep from doing something stupid, ending this chance before it's even been offered.

The entryway divides into two branches. We take the left. Murals and mammoth embroideries adorn the walls. If I didn't know better, this could be a museum or rich English castle straight out of the history books. But I do know better. We come at last to a door carved with images of birds. My escort turns. His long, thin face is as hard as the wood and stone around him.

"King Philippi would see you right away."

Such an elegant name for a monarch who would leave his people to burn outside while he sat safe and unharmed here in his fine palace. I shouldn't be surprised. Tor said I would hate what I found here, and he was right.

I grind my teeth and nod, and my escort gives an elaborate knock before opening the carved door. Two guards wait on the other side. One of them motions for me to follow as they turn without a word. It's only when I'm halfway down the long, deep red carpet that I realize my escort is no longer at my side. I'll face the King alone.

"His Majesty, King Philippi!"

Someone bangs a staff on the floor. The King enters from the right. I know him as soon as I spot his dark, soulless eyes. They're as black as the cinders of his city, flat and empty. Even the flashing gemstones on his braided crown can't brighten his countenance. The padded throne merely counters the hardness of the man who settles on it.

"You are Buteo?" He blinks, eyes laser focused on me and nothing else, like a bird of prey.

"I am."

"I need you to kill the beast, Agrihan."

Right to it then.

Okay, I can play this game. "What recompense?"

Philippi's eyes narrow a fraction. "For security. Peace of mind. For the good of the people. For the pure joy of the kill."

I ignore his sarcasm. "A hundred gold pieces for a dragon." My price is high, but not by choice. This is the payment I must bring to Tor. "Writ and sealed."

The King sits back in his throne, rubbing at his beard. "You've killed many others?"

"Just one." Not exactly a lie.

His eyes narrow again, then relax. He nods. "So be it."

He waves a hand, and one of his attendants runs to gather what he'll need to provide me a promissory.

"How often does he strike?" Might as well make good use of my time.

"In the past, each new moon."

When it is darkest. The beast is cunning.

"Lately it's been more frequent. Once a week. Never on the same day."

Cunning and desperate. A lethal combination.

"He's hungry."

I find I agree with the King's observation. Something changed, and the beast was left wanting. The city, with all its people and herds, is an easy mark—ripe for the picking. The dragon attacked just last night. He razed the upper reaches, taking sheep, horses and people without discrimination. Six are dead. Fifteen others missing. Moreover, the people who live outside the walls are in terror. The underground shelters they've dug are only good if they know when to hide. With the monster changing his habits, they're vulnerable.

I have a week, maybe less before he strikes again.

"Can you do it?"

Philippi stares daggers at me, as if he can pluck the truth out of my head like a grape and grind it between his teeth.

I've asked myself the same question. Always, the same answer fills my mind.

For Sadie.

"Aye."

The King's attendant returns with a parchment and quill. Philippi signs with a flourish, rolling the paper and holding it out for hot wax before pressing his ring to seal the deal. The attendant scurries over, stretching out his hand as if he fears actually touching me. Perhaps he worries I'll taint him. I snatch the promissory and stuff it into my bag.

Philippi leans forward as I tie the flap shut. "To receive the gold, you must bring back proof the beast is truly dead."

A finger of cold traces its way along the base of my neck.

"Agrihan's head." Philippi's grin is feral.

My hand twitches on the satchel. I could reach in now and toss the writ back at him. Walk away.

Philippi's eyes burn with cold intensity. He's testing me.

"Impossible. I could never carry it."

The King's cheek twitches in irritation. "You need not bring his whole head." His eyebrows lift. "Just the eyes will suffice."

"And a tooth." The attendant adds with a giggle.

Philippi spears the man with a glare, but nods his head. "And a tooth. Then the gold is yours."

He speaks as if the killing of a dragon is easy. If so, someone would have slayed the monster already.

I crack my neck. No turning back now. I have a promise to keep, and the reward awaiting me is richer than any gold.