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TH ERE WAS ONLY ONE CHOICE. HE WOULD NOT LET INARA give her life away, and she couldn’t stop him now. He was certain that he had gained enough of his own power, his independence, that what bound them now wouldn’t hurt her if it was broken, because it was love alone that kept them together.

Skedi, no! He felt the whizz of an arrow as she dropped her blade and picked up her bow, then tried to knock him down, aiming for his wing, another for his leg. But he eluded her. Stop!

He did not stop. There was no other way to save the others.

With every blast of flame, they came closer to death.

And he was close now to Hseth. The heat curled his whiskers, singed his feathers.

The string that held Inara’s button burned, and it flew away.

The beads, too, scattered. At least it wouldn’t be wet. He hated being wet.

Don’t leave me, Skedi, her voice still reached him in his mind, but he couldn’t see her any more. You’re my family too.

His eyes filled with flame and light. He hoped she would close hers, that she wouldn’t watch. His brave, powerful, strange little human.

Use me, he said to her. It’s all right.

For only love was greater than pain.

I don’t want to lose you.

Gods are never lost if there is someone who still believes in them.

Heat consumed him. He was a god of white lies, a god of hope and a god of tales. And he had already lived longer than he deserved, with the love of a girl who had chosen him.

I love you, he said.

And he flew into the flame.