The bodies were still warm when they dragged them outside the cave.
Kael worked in silence, sweat mixing with fresh blood from his reopened ribs. Every lift sent fire through his side, but he didn't complain. Complaining would make him look weak. And weakness here could get him killed faster than the wound itself.
Sylva watched him from the cave entrance, her face pale. She had refused to lie down again. "You're bleeding through the bandage," she said.
"I know."
"Then stop being stupid."
Kael dropped the older scout's legs and straightened. "We need to move before dawn. If these two had friends nearby, they'll come looking."
Ysira emerged from the shadows, her shoulder freshly bound. The cut wasn't deep, but it had ruined her expensive silk. She looked smaller without the perfect noble mask — tired, angry, and calculating how this mistake would cost her.
"They knew your name," she said quietly, staring at Kael. "Not just 'a bastard with violet eyes.' They said Kael Varyn."
Kael froze. He hadn't told them his full name. Not once.
Mira stepped forward, wiping her stiletto clean. "That means someone has been watching you for longer than today. Who are you really, bastard? Because you're no simple thief who stumbled onto an egg."
Kael laughed — a short, ugly sound. "You think I know? I grew up in a brothel outside Sunspear. My mother called herself a seamstress. She died coughing blood when I was twelve. Never told me who my father was. Only that he had 'dragon eyes' and left her with nothing but me."
The three women exchanged glances. None of them fully believed him. Kael didn't blame them. He barely believed it himself.
Sylva shifted uncomfortably. "So now King's Landing knows your name. And they know about the egg. We're carrying a death sentence."
"We could still run," Mira said. Her voice was soft, but her eyes were sharp. "Abandon the egg. Scatter in different directions. Some of us might survive."
The suggestion hung in the air like poison.
Ysira's jaw tightened. "I didn't kill a Baratheon knight and two scouts just to run away with nothing."
"Of course not," Mira replied coolly. "You want a crown. Or at least a seat closer to one."
The tension between Ysira and Mira crackled. Old rivalry. New stakes.
Kael wiped blood from his hands on his trousers. "If we abandon the egg, they'll still hunt us. Because now they know I exist. And they'll want to know why the egg woke for me."
He looked at the silk-covered shape in the cave. The red veins had gone dark again, but he could still feel that faint presence in the back of his mind. Watching. Waiting.
It scared him more than the pain.
They broke camp in grim silence. The two dead scouts were left for the vultures. No time for proper burial. Another sin to add to the growing list.
As they rode deeper into the Boneway, the narrow pass closed in around them. High rock walls on both sides made every sound echo. Perfect place for an ambush.
Sylva rode with Kael again. Her back pressed against his chest, warmer than before. After a long stretch of silence, she spoke so quietly only he could hear.
"You really don't know who your father was?"
"No."
She shifted. "My mother sold me when I was nine. Said I ate too much. Lady Ysira bought me… but sometimes I wonder if she just needed another knife."
Kael didn't know what to say. So he said nothing. But he felt her relax slightly against him. A tiny crack in the mistrust.
Ysira rode ahead, but kept glancing back. When their eyes met once, she didn't look away immediately. There was frustration in her gaze — and something else. Curiosity about the broken bastard who kept surviving when he shouldn't.
Mira rode last, always watching everyone.
They made camp again just before dawn in a small ravine. The egg was placed carefully between them. No fire this time. Too dangerous.
While the women took turns watching, Kael tried to sleep. Pain kept him half-awake. At some point in the grey light before sunrise, he felt someone approach.
It was Ysira.
She knelt beside him, checking his bandages without asking permission. Her fingers were careful this time. Almost gentle.
"You're going to slow us down," she whispered.
"Then leave me."
"I considered it." She paused. "But the egg reacts to you. And right now, that makes you… useful."
Kael turned his head. Their faces were very close. Close enough to see the exhaustion in her green eyes and the small scar above her brow again.
"Useful," he repeated bitterly. "That's all any of us are to each other."
For a heartbeat, neither moved. The desert wind whispered between the rocks. Ysira's gaze dropped to his mouth for the briefest moment before she caught herself and stood up.
"Don't die tonight, Kael Varyn," she said softly. "I still have questions."
She walked away.
Kael lay there, heart beating harder than it should from a simple conversation. He hated how her voice saying his name affected him. He hated even more that he wanted her to say it again.
From the other side of the egg, Mira watched the entire exchange in silence. Her expression was unreadable, but her hand rested on her hidden knife a little tighter than before.
Sylva, pretending to sleep, had seen it too. She turned her face away, jaw clenched.
The dragon egg sat between all of them — dark, silent, and ancient.
But its veins began glowing again. Very faintly.
As if it approved of the growing complications.
As if it was feeding on their suspicion, their fragile wants, and their beautiful, deadly flaws.
Far to the north, in King's Landing, a raven had already arrived.
And in Dorne, Prince Qoren Martell was waking up to troubling news.
The hunt was truly beginning.