“The Hoarder of Crowns is coming for us, Shen’al. He can smell the coffers.” Doravan drew the last stroke on his updated map of the Western Continent. The young king Eremis of Mengor had just annexed the Tribes of Fire, and the rich volcanic soil of the coast was now feeding directly into Mengor’s wealth.

  Doravan’s dragon friend, Shen’al, snorted. “We can take him.”

  That wealth would draw the attention of the dragon Ka’ran’ere’geth until Mengor was nothing but ashes and smoke. No one knew why the giant Southern dragon had come to their part of the world; the great Mountain Sea separated his kind from their coalition of kingdoms. But now every conqueror cowered in fear; if he grew too big, Ka’ran’ere’geth would take his crown and throne.

  The treasurer of Mengor, Vimos, sighed and shook his head. He tallied a sack of two hundred gold pieces in his ledger and set the sack aside. “I warned Eremis that this would happen.”

  “Like he would listen to you, Uncle.” Doravan stripped his old map from the wall and replaced it with his new one. He shuddered at the idea that it might be the last map he ever made. “Eremis is as thick as a mud pit and greedy as a dragon.” He nodded to Shen’al. “Definitely greedier than our present company.”

  The dragon nodded. “Obviously.”

  “Your aunt is right, Doravan,” Vimos said. “You should have become the treasurer when Eremis became king. He’s always liked you; if anyone could put his head on straight, it would be you.”

  “Surgical intervention couldn’t put that child’s head on straight.” Doravan crossed his arms.

  Vimos chuckled. “Child? Isn’t he older than you?”

  Doravan didn’t answer. They were only a year apart, but Eremis had less life experience than a peasant child with no apprenticeship. “He is reckless and self-absorbed.” He paused, his mind churning with ideas that brought a smile to his face. “Uncle, we could redistribute the gold ourselves. He never checks your ledgers. We could send it to those who need it. Better yet, we could alter the tax law. Or we could begin paying the new slaves from the Tribes. Or we–,”

  Vimos looked up and frowned. He pointed his horsebone pen at Doravan. “None of that, Doravan. I found you a place in this castle only if you never did that again.”

  Doravan bowed his head. He should have known better than to speak. “I apologize, Uncle,” he said mechanically. A long silence blanketed the room, and Doravan could feel Vimos’s eyes on him.

  Shen’al ruffled his wings and breathed a plume of smoke. “I’m starving. Get me a goat or something; I haven’t eaten in a week.”

  Grateful for the diversion, Doravan nodded to his uncle and slipped out. The tension dissipated into thin air as he and Shen’al sped down the castle hall and away from the treasury.

  “What did you have to bring that up for?” Shen’al hissed. He ducked as they entered the main castle wing; the arches had been designed for men, not for horse-sized dragons. “I thought you were over all of the con man stuff.”

  Doravan’s brow furrowed. “I wasn’t conning anyone. Uncle Vimos just doesn’t know everything that I do. He’s had the luxury of having an income his whole life, and I thought maybe he would realize that some things are more important than his stupid integrity.” Sometimes he admired that unfailing trait of his uncle, but most of the time it just limited their options. Especially with the entire Mengorian treasury in their hands.

  Shen’al wrinkled his snout. “Sure. I saw that conniving look in your eyes. You don’t have to con Eremis to mislead him, but that’s exactly what you would do.”

  “We have to find some way to empty the coffers.” Doravan led Shen’al towards the palace pastures; hopefully there were plenty of goats set aside. “If we don’t get it out of the king’s hands, Mengor will be destroyed.”

  Shen’al huffed. “I told you I could take him. And if I can’t, let’s run away or something.”

  Doravan stopped, and Shen’al slowed to watch him. Doravan’s fists tightened; he took a deep breath. “No. We stay here.”

  Shen’al groaned. “Whatever. We can talk about it after I eat.”

  An airy, carefree voice floated down the hall. “Dor? Is that you?!”

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  Doravan chuckled and shook his head. Shen’al groaned. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” He leaped out the castle door and swooped into the air.

  Doravan turned around and bowed. “Your Majesty.”

  King Eremis clapped Doravan’s shoulders. “‘Your Majesty’?! Are we friends or not, Dor? Why not just call me Eremis like old times?”

  “Old times, huh?” Doravan straightened himself before Eremis could do it for him. He hadn’t had a real conversation with Eremis since his coronation nearly a year ago. Somehow he looked more self-satisfied than ever, and leaving his hair long and stringy completely undid every advantage his royal attire and crown gave him.

  “Speaking of friends,” Eremis continued, “I need a teeny, tiny favor from you.”

  Doravan’s eyebrow shot up. “You’re not one for teeny, tiny favors.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, Dor. I just need you to talk to your uncle for me.”

  Doravan sighed. “He’s not exactly pleased with me at the moment.”

  “Oh, rubbish. He’ll listen to you anyway, won’t he? I’m a little desperate. I need him to lie to my guests at the Conqueror’s Feast this week.”

  Doravan blinked. Eremis just stared at him, expectant and hopeful.

  “You …” Doravan squinted, trying to piece together what Eremis had said. “Conqueror’s Feast? What guests? Why?” He shook his head. “No. Impossible. Getting my uncle to lie is like–,”

  “Getting a dragon to abandon his hoard, I know.” Eremis grabbed Doravan’s hands. “Please listen! I can’t have anyone knowing about all the money we’ve pulled in from taxes and annexing the Tribes. I’ve invited all of the neighboring monarchies and rulers to this feast. I just know they are going to demand I share my wealth with them. Coalition wealth shares and all that.”

  “Good luck convincing them you don’t have anything. You might as well not invite my uncle at all.” Doravan paused, the wheels turning in his head again. He looked behind him at the palace pastures; he didn’t see Shen’al coming back, so he turned again to the king. “But you could deceive my uncle.”

  Eremis nodded, expression widening eagerly.

  Doravan ducked close to Eremis and lowered his voice. “Let me take a majority of the gold.”

  Eremis raised an eyebrow, but didn’t protest yet.

  “I’ll hide it,” he said. “Just tell my uncle we’ve distributed it to the beggars and some churches or something. Then the ledgers will always show that you are both benevolent and–well, not wealthy.”

  The king mused. Then a mischievous grin spread over his face. “I knew you would come through for me, Dor. I’ll tell your uncle. And take a share for yourself while you’re at it.”

  Doravan paused, praying Shen’al and Vimos would forgive him someday.

  Shen’al swooped in just then, landing with clacking claws on the cobble outside. He licked his lips and sighed gratefully. Then he looked at Doravan and Eremis, seeming to calculate the situation.

  “So,” he said, “what have you all been talking about?”

  Eremis grinned. “Just catching up, Small-all.”

  The dragon growled. “Shen’al.”

  The king waved him off. “Whatever it is. Thank you again, Dor. Bring your uncle to my office tomorrow.”

  Doravan bowed, hoping Eremis wouldn’t see the concern growing on his face. The king walked away.

  “He never has time to talk to you.” Shen’al frowned and crept up to Doravan’s side. “What happened?”

  Doravan spoke slowly. “I think I may have just saved our country.” He sighed, knowing he should feel relieved, but his stomach knotted. He was going to con everyone. He turned and walked away; he needed to lie down.

  Shen’al blocked his path, tail twitching anxiously. Smoke rose from his nose, and Doravan waved it away.

  “From the Hoarder?” Shen’al’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

  Doravan ducked under Shen’al’s wings and kept walking. “What I had to do.”

  “You’re going to steal all that gold!” Shen’al swung his tail and wrapped it around Doravan’s torso. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Why not?” Doravan snapped. Then the lie slipped from his tongue like a snake. It felt so good to let that all loose. For his uncle’s sake, he had been keeping it all in for over two years. “I’m not stealing it, Shen’al. The king gave me permission to distribute it to the kingdom.”

  Shen’al blinked. “Eremis? That king?”

  Doravan nodded, and the dragon let him go. “He told me to bring my uncle to his office,” he said. “We’re going to record it in the ledgers, and you can see for yourself.”

  Shen’al grunted and walked past Doravan. “If you’re lying to me, I will eat you alive.”

  “That’s against the Code of the Western Dragons,” Doravan said dryly. “You legally have to wait until I’m a corpse.”

  “Fine, I’ll eat you dead, you big liar.” Shen’al looked back at him, his skepticism now replaced with a pleasant grin. “Or … maybe not a liar anymore. Your uncle will be proud of you for doing this the honest way.”

  Doravan swallowed a lump in his throat as his dragon companion walked away, and all the blood rushed to his head. He might get executed for this.