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“Go find out.”

Senaria fumbled as she unfastened the cloak and let it fall to the ground. The first step she took was hesitant. So was the second, as if she understood these were wild dragons and Bogo was no longer the pet she’d once fed on a windowsill.

Bogo tipped his head. Blinked before turning to Lassa for guidance. Then he gathered his legs and raced toward Senaria, tumbling, bouncing with little hops of pure joy.

She had her arms out wide. Tears streamed down her face as her steps turned into a stumbling run.

Bogo slid to a halt, spewing mud everywhere.

She hesitated, afraid to touch him. His scales glimmered like onyx.

His spikes were filling in around his head, arrowing back the way Sarnorinth’s did, protecting his neck, his spine.

The first joints on his wings braced against the ground; he hadn’t quite learned this new body, where to put the parts of him that had grown large and awkward.

His chirp hadn’t changed though, and slowly, Senaria cupped his face. Leaned her forehead against his. She was singing to him, a human lullaby.

I asked Lassa, “Does Sarnorinth know you’re here?”

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt, she answered . The schism weakens. The little one reminds us of human friends .

“She was a child when she called him. Tortured in a dungeon when she called Tova. Each time, she was crying.”

Lassa resettled her wings. I hear your words, Draakon.

“She cried over Magda. And over Tova,” I said. “Although she now fears that every time she cries, she’s hurting the dragons.”

I sense her sorrow.

The resistance was still in Lassa’s voice, but having the dragon here was a step toward victory, repairing the schism. “Thank you for bringing him.”

When Magda died, I also heard your words. My refusal to come shamed me. I would not deprive the little one.

Senaria and Bogo were playing a lopsided game of chase.

She tried to get past him, her arms out as she danced left, then right.

He charged and skidded, throwing bits of grass and mud everywhere.

She faked one direction, turning to dart beneath his wings and swat him on the tail.

He jumped into the air, startled enough to squeak, then used his head to knock her from behind.

She splatted, face first, into the mud, giggling so hard I worried that she’d swallow too much muddy water.

A memory of something I’d lost long ago rose uncomfortably, and I shifted my weight. Lassa had moved to the edge of the meadow and lounged beneath the trees, her spiked head swiveling as she monitored the sky, the trees. The distant vista.

Go, Draakon. Play. I will guard you .

I joined the game and became muddy within minutes, but I didn’t care.

I chased the little dragon and then tackled Senaria when she tried to protect him.

Feeling her warm body against mine jolted every sense.

Hearing her laugh was a knife to the throat.

What witchery did she already have? What part of her was coming alive in the Faded Lands, a part that had hidden itself in Thales?

The warmth of the curse tablet sank into my skin, as if she challenged the way I’d lived for centuries.

Bogo rubbed his boney head against my chest; I scratched behind the spikes above his eyes.

Listened to his chortle of pleasure. Mud caked his wings, making it difficult for him to fly.

I suggested a quick wash in the deepest puddle and he agreed.

Both Senaria and I stood in the puddle with him, dipping into the water and washing his scales while he wiggled. Senaria’s face was mud-splattered, but beneath her skin, the glow of affection illuminated her.

My hands stopped their movement as I stared.

Her hands had also halted, and when she held my gaze with that half smile on her face, my chest constricted.

Was this…family? Or what a family might be like?

The shared warmth in caring for a young one?

A connection that deepened beyond a simple need to not be alone?

The family I’d had died so long ago. I thought the memory had burned away, but this felt like a lingering ember in the ash, barely glowing with the breath of fresh air.

My hand fisted against Bogo’s back as the last of the streaming water dripped into the puddle. The little dragon was clean enough. I stepped away. Retrieved the pack from the stable and laid out the blanket and food I’d brought .

Senaria sat across from me. She’d cleaned up enough using the towel I handed her, and as she ate bits of cheese and bites of apple, she tossed the best pieces to Bogo.

I remembered feeding him for the first time, when he’d stayed with us from the shipwreck, across the Plains of Celandine, then fleeing from the hunting falcons. He’d stayed with her. Protecting her.

When the sun crossed the sky and hovered over the distant mountains, Lassa stood and stretched her wings. Senaria’s lips trembled around the last bit of apple she’d picked up. She forced herself to chew and swallow. Moisture glittered in her eyes.

She rose when Bogo did, pressed her forehead against his again as she said her farewell, soft words that hurt my heart. Her hair was still muddy, and she left a smear on him. Wiped it away while she laughed—an aching sound.

They walked together to meet Lassa, where Senaria spoke again, this time to the female. Then…

“Go,” she whispered to Bogo when he hesitated. “Fly. Be free.”

The little dragon stretched his wings; I cupped my hands around Senaria’s shoulders and held her as the two dragons became specks in the sky once again.

Then I gathered up the blanket and food, and led her toward the hunter’s house where I’d planned to spend the night.

The weather was too cold, the ride too long and dangerous in the dark.

But another part of me understood the day had been too emotional for her.

She needed time to process before returning to the undercurrents raging in the castle.

Time we both needed.