Night dreamer needed proof, and he needed it before the elven court closed its doors. He wanted the throne of the last hidden kingdom. His father had ruled it. Dragon blood ran in his veins, but blood alone meant nothing to the court. They demanded evidence. Without it, they would call him a liar and send him away. He stood inside the small cottage where a woman named Kael Orvyn kept her fire burning. Her patched jacket smelled of smoke and old leather. She had guided travelers through the dangerous groves for thirty years. Night dreamer had paid her to lead him to the dragon's old trial ground. He folded his purple wings tight against his back so they would not knock her shelves. "The court sits at dawn," he said. "I have nothing to show them." Kael dragged her machete across a tabletop she had carved with trails. "You have wings. Show them the wings." "Half-bloods have wings too. Wings are not proof of the royal line." His voice cracked. "They will laugh and vote me out." Kael stopped carving. She crossed to a chest and lifted out a shirt of chainmail. The rings held a dark, fire-scorched finish. Heat had tempered them into streaks of orange and black. "My grandmother pulled this off a dead prince in the trial cave," she said. "Dragon fire forged it. Only the true line ever walked out of that cave wearing it. Everyone else burned." Night dreamer touched the metal. It felt warm, as if the fire still lived inside. "Then it proves nothing about me. It proves the dead prince." "So earn it," Kael said. "Put it on. Walk into the trial cave. If your blood is real, the fire will not kill you. Walk out wearing it, and the court cannot deny you." His hands shook. The trial had killed his uncles. But dawn was coming, and he had no other road. He pulled the chainmail over his head. The rings settled against his chest. Kael led him past oak trees where bees drifted over yellow flowers. A doe and her spotted fawn froze at the tree line, then bolted. A large buck watched from the shadows and did not move. The cave mouth breathed hot air. Night dreamer stepped inside. Flame rushed up the walls and wrapped around him. The heat pressed on his skin. He screamed and waited to burn. He did not burn. The fire slid over the chainmail and left him whole. His white hair lifted in the current of heat. The dragon blood in him answered the flame. He walked out. The scorched rings glowed on his chest. Kael stared. "It's true. You're really his son." Night dreamer had his proof at last. But smoke rose behind him from the cave, and hoofbeats sounded on the trail. The court had sent riders. They had come not to hear his claim, but to stop it.