Ryadni tugging the rope set off a string of vibrating alarms on all the floors below, even though she couldn't hear them. She didn't take her eyes off the dragon. Its scales gleamed like a thousand tiny jewels, reflecting the midday sun. Its vast wings were black against the brilliant blue sky. Slim legs folded beneath its body, ending in sharp talons.

Dragon attacks weren't common even after Khaus and Astrayas's catalytic fight those years ago. Humans' attacks remained the bigger worry. Dragons never sought deliberate decimation of entire villages, murders of children or pillaging of resources. But their fights could not be reasoned and had a massive area of destruction.

The shuffle of footsteps from the ladder below reached her ears. Someone climbed the ladder to join her.

Her eyes never left the dragon. Cold sweat broke over her body. Raiding strongholds of bloodthirsty warlords or seeing the aftermath of her teammates' capture had little effect on her, but hearing the screech of a dragon, even though this one had a higher pitch and smaller body, brought all the unpleasant memories flooding back. Her hand reached back and clutched the dagger. It would do as much damage as a leaf on human skin, but it gave her some comfort.

She shifted over to make space. The dragon soared over their hideout, huge wings beating gusts of wind onto the ground, and continued eastward. Her new partner sighed with relief. Ryadni released her grip on the dagger's handle, grateful for the cramped space allowing her to hide her shaking hand.

It gave another scream before blending into the distant sky. The cry made her saliva turn acidic and her stomach churn. For a few seconds, she could smell the acrid scent of dragon blood congealing over open fires. Her chest tightened, squeezing the air from her lungs. She closed her eyes and counted to ten.

"Which one is it?" asked Thecor, the medic-in-training. Ryadni jumped. Taking a few moments to swallow the lump in her throat and to steady her voice, she pretended to be focused on keeping her sight on the faraway creature, even though it was so tiny now it was barely visible. The glare from the rising sun made it too painful to continue.

"I've never seen it before," Ryadni said. Her voice was calm, to her relief. She blinked the glare from her eyes. "It's smaller than any of the ones we've encountered."

She blinked again. A dark circle stayed in her centre of vision and she couldn't see anything else. The pressure around her chest began to ease and she could breathe normally again.

"You tell Pallas. I'm due to take over from you anyway. He'll want a report."

She reached behind her, her hand still shaking a little, and pulled the alarm again, twice, signalling the all-clear. She passed the dagger to Thecor and swung over the edge, dropping weightlessly through the air. Her dark hair lifted from her head. Her feet met the ground with barely a sound.

Releasing a breath she didn't realise she was holding, Ryadni made her way down the stone steps again. The silence during this time of the day was eerie. Seldom had she been back in the dungeons during a dragon sighting as she spent most of her time raiding or on lookout. Seeing the quivering children clutching each other beneath the bunkers on the bottommost level brought back unpleasant memories of being helpless and vulnerable. One by one, the adults released the children back to their parents or guardians. Ryadni studied the metal-enforced beams and sturdy stone walls, averting her eyes from the crying and kissing.

Ryadni rolled her shoulders and then flexed her head left and right, popping the joints. Her muscles ached. The price of the night raid and six hours of being on lookout was catching up with her. Her eyes burned and a dull ache remained in her chest after hearing the new dragon's cry. But she was determined to defer rest. The cool air of the deep underground made her clammy skin tingle. Pallas wasn't amongst the adults guarding the children.

He wasn't in the kitchen area either. Ryadni continued her search, finally hearing the familiar deep, calming voice coming from the infirmary – the fancy term given to the old storeroom for the brewery. The ground was covered with chipped tiles. Weak light from oil lamps danced on the wall.

Jocas, a past-middle-aged skinny woman with greying brown hair, spoke to Pallas in a serious undertone, but her face betrayed little emotion. Ryadni had never seen her without the emotionally-detached expression whenever she or another teammate was being treated for injuries. It was the only way anyone could deal with the deaths and atrocities that had struck this land since the dragons descended, but Jocas's line of work had drained her dramatically, both physically and emotionally. The lines on her face increased every time Ryadni saw her.

They came to an inaudible agreement and Jocas left, her head held high.

"Pallas."

The Duke of Frone – although he insisted that nobody addressed him by that name – smiled when he spotted Ryadni. Striding across the room on legs too thin to support such a tall frame and sporting trousers that hung well above his ankles, Pallas met her at the door of the infirmary.

"Ryadni." He spread his hands wide in welcome. His hair, like Jocas's, was greying too, and he was at least a decade younger. Ryadni nodded curtly, her eyes darting at Jocas's retreat.

Pallas glanced over his shoulder, following her gaze.

"She's worrying about Sumair. Her paranoia and anxiety are getting worse and the medications aren't working. We may need some new herbs."

"Another raid?" Ryadni's ears perked up. "Where?"

"She'll let us know where the right herbs grow and then I'll brief the Raiders."

"I'll go."

Pallas shook his head.

"You've just done one. I can send another one in your place. You need your rest."

"We're three down, Pallas," Ryadni said. "And I'm your best one. I can go – I don't need much sleep."

"You do," he said. Ryadni opened her mouth and snapped it shut without a word. Her hands curled into fists. "You are one of my best, which is why I can't afford a mishap and lose you. There will be time before I send the Raiders again. Get some rest and if you're fully recovered, you will go then. But not right now."

"Fine," she said with a scowl. "I'm here to report. A new dragon was spotted."

Pallas's jaws tightened.

"Which one? Hesprus?"

"No, this is a new one." The image of the gleaming dragon soaring overhead came back vividly. "Smaller, slender. The scales are much brighter, almost like fragments from a mirror. Its legs are silver. I've never seen it before."

"That'll be Cheoni the Benevolent," Pallas said. He paused, lips pressed together. "Scales that scatter sunlight, with limbs of silver. There's no doubt."

"Will it join the fight?"

"The situation is definitely getting desperate if even Cheoni descends from the clouds. It hasn't been seen for centuries."

Ryadni could still see, in her mind, Cheoni's huge, magnificent wings spread across the sky; its gleaming armour shone like crystals. Its graceful neck arched against the sun and its mouth opened wide in a screech. The colours morphed; the multi-coloured scales darkened until it was dark blue and thick. Silver, elegant limbs lengthed to muscular arms and legs, ending in devastating claws. Cruel horns spiralled from the top of its head. Malignant liquid yellow eyes glared down at her, promising fire and death.

"Are you all right?"

Ryadni flinched, suddenly realising that Pallas had caught her in one of her moments again. Her body was covered again drenched in a cold sweat and her heart raced beneath her ribs. Her breathing came laboured, barely giving her relief.

"I-I'm fine."

His dark eyes told her he knew she was anything but. She stared back, her chin jutted out.

"I said I'm fine." Ryadni wiped her forehead and knew that her sleeve came away soaked. Pallas definitely saw through her despite the dim lighting in the infirmary. "Don't... don't tell Jace."

"I'm not worried about Jace, Ryadni."

"There's nothing to worry about from me, either."

"You know you can always talk to me."

"I know," she said abruptly. Not that she would. With another curt nod, she turned and left.

Sleep, she just needed sleep, she told herself. But she had one more stop to make. She passed people carrying oil lamps as she made her way to the sleeping chambers. Little dots of bright light swung to and fro like fireflies at night. Daylight hours – not that there ever was any daylight in these underground dungeons – were often busier. Labourers, woodsmiths, metalsmiths, and other household workers resumed their duties after the all-clear. She passed working areas filled with the sound of movement, clangs, and low-volume chatter. Children began their literary and numeracy classes at Pallas's wish in hopes of preserving future generations of hope. Sometimes Ryadni felt Pallas was the only one who could see a way out of this world they lived in now.

Ryadni wasn't so optimistic. Pallas's little world underground was fragile and relied so heavily upon the people trusting each other and the success of Raiders and lookouts. One mishap, one miscommunication, and then it would all be over.

And yet Pallas still insisted on playing school and happy families.

Even if his plan succeeded and they all survived when the balance was restored, the people wouldn't revert back to how they were before. Things had changed since the dragons' descent, since Khaus was killed, and since people openly destroyed each other for selfish gains. Societal laws and morality played no role now.

And Ryadni knew she was no better. But Pallas didn't know that. And hopefully, he would never know.

She found Jace stock-counting in the kitchen. Ryadni leant against the heavy wooden shelves. Jace's hair thinned over the years, but he still hummed and talked to himself when he inspected the goods, sniffing the contents to check for malodours, and checking off his list. His oil lamp burned low, forcing him to squint.

"What's wrong?"

Ryadni stiffened. Jace returned the next two jars of pickled vegetables and turned to face her. His big belly had disappeared and he had the same lean, thin build as all the other adults who had just short of enough to eat and too many hours of labour. Seeing Cheoni the Benevolent put Ryadni more on edge than she'd care to admit, but she didn't realise it was that obvious.

"I'm fine," Ryadni found herself saying for the fourth time that morning. She uncrossed her arms and hid her shaking hands behind her back. She avoided his shrewd gaze, feigning half-interest in several jars of pickled eggs.

His lips pursed beneath his moustache.

"Do you think this game of happy family will go on forever?" she said in a quiet voice.

Jace surveyed her. "I like it here. This is the closest to civilisation as we're going to get in the near future."

"It's all pretense."

"If there's something you want to tell me, Aeris..."

"Don't call me that!" she snapped, glaring at him, and then averting her gaze again. "I'm just tired. I've had a raid and a morning watch. I've been up for twenty hours. I just... I need some rest. That's all."

"If you say so. Ryadni."

"I do. Good night – or whatever."

She made her way out, looking left and right carefully. Good, there was nobody about. No-one had heard Jace call her by her old name. It must stay that way.