They touched down in the courtyard late in the afternoon. Maya helped Chantal steady herself as she dismounted.

  “Thank you, friend,” Maya said, patting Tricon’s long neck.

  “Yes, thank you, Tricon,” Chantal added.

  She wrung her hands and shifted from one foot to the other. If Father saw her behaving like this, she’d have gotten an earful from him about weak body language. She didn’t know what to do with herself. Tricon was so much bigger than her; he could crush her with a careless gesture. Plus, she'd apparently given him and Maya a heap of bad news. Who were those women and the Yekaran? What had Father done now?

  “It was exciting.” Chantal nodded. Nerves added a sharpness to the movement, causing tendrils of hair to bounce around her shoulders.

  “You are welcome.” Tricon gave her what she supposed was the Yekaran version of a grin. The stretching of almost nonexistent lips over dagger-like teeth looked awkward.

  Chantal looked between Tricon and Maya. He looked exhausted, like his body was too heavy to move, and Maya was blinking. Was she trying to keep from crying?

  “Oh Daddy, what did you do?” she thought.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” said Tricon, “there’s much to do for Borcon’s sake.”

  “Their names are similar,” Chantal thought.

  “Good evening, friend.”

  Tricon nodded and left them.

  Maya cleared her throat and turned her attention to Chantal. “Let’s introduce you to the infants.”

  “Infants?”

  “The infant Yekarans in the dragonry.” Maya pointed to a plain door grayed with age. “Most of them went home with their parents the day they hatched.”

  “What about the rest?”

  “Their parents never came out of hibernation.”

  She’d read about hibernation failure in her studies, and Maya had mentioned it earlier. She’d assumed their ancestors had eradicated it. She’d read about advances in the records, and then it was never mentioned again. Had they just given up? How horrible to think of babies born orphans!

  “Is this for my pairing with a Yekaran companion?”

  Maya nodded and held the door open, allowing Chantal to enter first. “We’ll see if you can find a companion among the four here. There are others we can call if you don’t find a match today.”

  Maya led her through a narrow hallway she thought must be the Terran entrance to the dragonry. If they weren’t able to walk side by side, there was no way a Yekaran could fit through this passage. At the end of the long sloping hall, an old, worn door opened into a massive dome. The room was empty except for four hatchlings and the maids assigned to tend them.

  “The size and growth of infant Yekarans never ceases to amaze me,” said Maya. “They spend just over five months nestled in their shells. They're kept warm and safe in the hatchery and tended by humans while their parents sleep. First hatched, their heads reach halfway between a human’s knee and hip.” She gestured a height almost to her hip, but what would likely be mid-thigh on a woman of average size. “These four dragonlings are a week old.”

  One of the nursemaids noticed them and waved as the dragonling she tended nuzzled her elbow, trying to hide behind her. Maya and Chantal returned the greeting.

  “They’re so small!” said Chantal.

  “Compared to the adults, yes they are, but they’re still plenty big from a child’s perspective, I can assure you.”

  Chantal imagined herself as a young child standing near the infant dragons and had to agree. “How old were you when you met Tricon?”

  “Eight,” Maya answered. “And I’m short now. Imagine how I felt then. He was only two days old and more than half as tall as I was.”

  “What do I do?” Chantal asked.

  “Go to them, and see if you make a friend.”

  “But I’ve never made a friend before.”

  “You’ll know if one of them takes to you,” Maya answered.

  Chantal hesitated. How was she expected to tell if one of these creatures wanted her for a lifelong friend? They were just a few days old. Was it asking too much of them? Being a Yekaran companion sounded like a vocation. How is a baby supposed to decide what they want to do when they grow up before they can even speak? Yet, Maya said she and Tricon were paired when he was only two days old, and they looked content with one another. “Stop being a ninny,” she scolded herself, set her jaw, and stepped off the dais.

  The reddish dragonling peeked out at her from under his nursemaid’s arm and then returned to hiding. A cream and greenish brown pair were too busy wrestling to notice her, but a dark green tyke waddled to meet her. As they reached each other, the Yekaran sniffed at the hem of her skirt.

  “Hello,” said Chantal.

  The Yekaran cocked her head to the side, considering Chantal with amber eyes. Chantal giggled. The dragonling looked so wise and confused at the same time. It was like it understood her but couldn’t quite decide what she meant. It blinked and reared up to sit on its haunches, startling Chantal into taking a step back. The dragon trilled and regarded Chantal again, eye to eye, before issuing a questioning squeak.

  “I’m Chantal,” she answered. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  The hatchling extended its muzzle. Chantal wondered if rounded features and large eyes were a universal constant for babies. She reached out and caressed the hatchling’s nose before tickling under its chin. Overexcited, the baby wobbled and only managed to keep from falling by flailing too large wings.

  Chantal blinked, trying to keep sand and errant wisps of hair kicked up by the flailing child from getting in her eyes. Reflex caused her to reach out to steady the dragonling, and she was only saved from sliced arms by one of the maids pulling her back.

  “They have to steady themselves,” said the maid. “It’s hard not to try and help them when they stumble, but we are easy to injure by comparison.”

  “I wasn’t thinking,” Chantal answered.

  “That’s the beginnings of the bond, but you must be careful, especially while she’s so young.” The maid laid one hand on Chantal’s shoulder and looked her in the eyes. “She would have been heartbroken if she’d hurt you, and that kind of guilt can do horrible things to a Yekaran so young.”

  “What do you mean?” Chantal’s heart pounded in her ears. Had she already hurt this baby? “What kind of things?”

  “Although they look fierce, Yekaran’s are tender-hearted and kind by nature,” the maid answered. She squeezed Chantal’s shoulder. “However, trauma can cause them to harden or break, and its effects are more permanent for Yekarans than for us. They have less neural plasticity, even at this young an age.”

  “You mean they don’t heal from emotional trauma?” A cold chill ran down Chantal’s spine. Tricon’s reactions and questions were starting to make horrifying sense.

  “It depends upon the type and their reaction, but you’re right to an extent,” the maid agreed. “Grief and shock, they recover from given time, but guilt.” She trailed off and shook her head. “Guilt, deserved or not, is something they seldom overcome.”

  The dragonling trilled and nudged Chantal’s legs.

  “Enough,” said the maid. “What’s your name, dear? I don’t think we’ve met before.”

  “Chantal, ma’am.”

  The older woman turned to the dragonling and bent down to its level. “You hear that, my dear?” she asked. “This young lady is Chantal, Roggsha.” She stood and addressed Chantal. “And this little clown is Roggsha, Lady Chantal.”

  “Hello, Roggsha.” Chantal knelt and scratched the tiny Yekaran along the jaw. “Would you be my companion?”

  “That’s a question best left to her parents,” Maya said as she joined them.

  “I thought she was an orphan.”

  “Yes, but we find families for them. These four are waiting for finalization. You can ask her parents if they will allow her to train as a companion when they come to take her home.”

  Chantal felt like her stomach dropped through the floor. “So she won’t live here at the castle?”

  “Not until she’s an adult,” Maya answered. “There’s no reason to rob her of her childhood, and you will have plenty of opportunities to visit her.”

  The door opened, and a woman with gray beginning to streak through her hair crossed to Maya and Chantal. “There you are!” she said. “Lanre told me I’d find you down here.”

  “Sorry, Selah,” Maya answered. “We’ve just returned from a picnic out at the bluff.”

  Selah waved Maya’s apology away. “No matter, dear. The king is asking for you. I'll help the young lady get settled in.”

  “I see,” Maya answered and turned to Chantal. “This is Selah, Chantal. She practically raised me. If you’ll go with her, she’ll help you get settled. I have some business to attend before dinner.”

  Chantal nodded and greeted Selah as Maya turned to leave. She frowned at the lady’s retreating form. Why did she feel like she’d been being babysat these past few hours?

  “I suppose I have to leave now, Roggsha.” She sighed and gave the dragonling one last pat on the head as she stood. She looked to the older lady Maya had called Selah, who was giving her a kind smile.

  “Never you mind that girl, Lady Virchow,” said Selah. “She gets preoccupied whenever Lanre has his feathers ruffled. She’ll return to her usual self once she’s smoothed them.”

  Lanre felt Maya’s approach as she reached the landing down the hall. He tried to regain his composure. His worry and the mix of confusion, joviality, and unease surrounding him had his control in tatters. Sleep had been impossible. So he spent the last few hours with Judge Marx digging through the papers Chantal had brought. His fatigue after twenty straight hours awake with his emotions running high wasn’t helping.

  He’d sent for Selah as soon as she returned to her duties for the evening shift and asked her to look for Maya. Anxiety and dread pulled at him as he waited for the information he prayed she had. He paced the throne room tugging at his hair and giggling as waves of his grandfather’s amusement hit him.

  “How can you be so giddy?” he snapped at Aligh.

  “Have you heard some of these stories people have concocted?” Aligh asked, brandishing papers. “Baroness Nelain believes Chantal is a mass hallucination brought on by anxiety.”

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Baroness Nelain thinks she’s cleverer than she is.” Lanre scrubbed his face with his hands. “Have you seen the report on those records Chantal brought? She saw Borcon being chained at Tembar! What do you think that means for my mother?”

  “You don’t know that for sure yet, Lanre,” Aligh chided. “I’ve found little use in getting myself worked up, especially over matters for which I’d yet to get all the facts. It’s bad for the blood pressure.”

  Lanre found Maya’s mind as she entered and used it to anchor himself, feeling the order like a balm to his nerves. Their eyes met. He felt a flash of concern and sorrow from her before she redoubled the shield she provided for him. Dread coiled in his gut when she tightened the one between their minds. If she was shielding from him, the news couldn’t be pleasant.

  “It seems the gossips have had a fine time today, judging from the whispers I kept hearing on the way here.” Maya shook her head. “They ought to be ashamed of themselves.”

  “I suppose they will be when they hear the truth this evening,” Lanre answered.

  “I’m sure they will,” Aligh agreed. “Did you discover anything else about the dragon, Maya?”

  “Yes,” Maya answered as Lanre felt her thin the shield between them. His grandfather could only hear her words, but Larne saw the scene she described play out through her memories.

  A surge of anger with the realization his mother had been used as a hostage set his heart racing. His hands shook when he brought them up to his face. Shock and grief struck him when Maya told of Borcon’s tortured howling. Lanre felt his knees buckle and the sharp sting as he hit the floor, floundering in the torrent of his own emotions and Maya’s. She knelt by his side, wrapped her arms around him, and raised the wall between their minds once again.

  He clung to her, his constant anchor in the world. She offered relief from the grief of others as he floundered in despair. Her hands smoothed through his hair as she whispered to him. What she said, he couldn’t understand, but her presence was soothing. He sobbed.

  After what seemed like an eternity, thought returned. His uncle had used her! He used his mother to force Borcon to surrender and then killed her in front of him. Why? What did he gain by breaking a Yekaran mind? Was it just for his sick pleasure?

  Grief gave way to disgust and then finally anger. Ralic would pay!

  “Any word on Borcon’s condition now?” he heard Aligh ask. His voice wavered and cracked.

  Too exhausted from his lack of sleep and the emotional upheaval to move, Lanre turned his head where he leaned against Maya. His grandfather’s eyes were red-rimmed, and he was dabbing his face with a handkerchief.

  “He’s lost his mind,” Maya sobbed.

  Lanre could feel her trembling as she held him. He squeezed her tighter and rubbed small circles on her back with his thumbs.

  “He lashes out at anyone who tries to tend him and howls for hours.”

  “Tricon’s reaction?” Aligh asked.

  “As well as can be expected.” Maya sighed. “He didn’t react much while we were out, but he’s preparing to meet with the council about a course of action. Borcon hasn’t drawn blood in his madness, so there is some hope.”

  “What of the papers Chantal brought?” she asked.

  “Most contained details on Ralic's mining operations,” Aligh answered. “We can not be certain without a full investigation. But the papers suggest my dear son is enslaving his citizens and experimenting with explosives.”

  Lanre shuddered, causing Maya to stroke his hair again. He knew Aligh was angry, but he’d never heard the sarcastic lilt to his grandfather’s voice before. He felt Maya send him a wave of love and reassurance, and he wrapped it around his soul like a blanket.

  “Speak with Chantal, Maya,” said Aligh. “Find out if any new men arrived with the dragon. I want name and rank, but a description will do if nothing else.”

  “As you wish, Sire,” Maya said, substituting a bow of her head for a curtsy since Lanre was still clinging to her.

  He met her eyes, once again taking comfort in the loving concern he found in them. She swiped the tears from his eyes with her thumb and brushed his fringe back out of his face. He noticed a glimmer on her cheek. She’d been crying too. He brushed the tear away and pressed his forehead to hers.

  “Thank you,” he whispered before rising to his feet again and drawing her with him. She squeezed his hand in answer. “I’ll join you,” Lanre thought to her. He turned toward Aligh without releasing her hand.

  “If you’ll,” he started to say, but his voice seized. He cleared his throat and started again. “If you’ll excuse me, Grandfather, I have some minor affairs to attend to.”

  “Very well, Lanre,” Aligh agreed. “Tell Raman I am not to be disturbed. I need to rest for a while.”

  “Do you need a hand to your quarters, Grandfather?”

  “I am not yet so feeble I cannot walk to the next room myself,” Aligh snapped.

  “My apologies,” Lanre offered with a bow. He turned and left with Maya.

  “He’s becoming unpredictable lately. I was only trying to help.”

  “Do you blame him?” Maya asked. “You’ve been treating him like a child lately. True, he’s getting older. His health is beginning to fail, but he’s not helpless.” “I don’t know how to act around him. Whether he admits it or not, he does need help from time to time.”

  Maya nodded but remained silent.

  “You shouldn’t be so hard on the gossips, you know.”

  Maya turned her dark eyes to him for the first time since they left the throne room. One brow arched in silent question.

  “It’s not fair to be so harsh when you provided fuel for several of their stories.” A whirlwind of emotion bombarded him as Maya’s hold on her mental shields slipped. He rolled his eyes at his own thoughtlessness. Preoccupation with a puzzle always loosened her grip on them. He tugged on the shield between their minds, and she strengthened it. Her mind raged with sorrow, anger, guilt, anxiety, fear, and confusion, and he wanted no part of that storm just now. He pressed his hand to the small of her back as he led her up the stairs.

  “Baroness Nelain asked the guards if a young woman arrived today. They told her Caprie was the only visitor to enter the castle today.”

  “I thought I’d forgotten something.”

  He watched a flush spread across her cheeks and down her neck. The physical manifestations of what he felt from others fascinated him.

  “If they persist, you can always tell them she entered through the catacombs. It is the truth, after all.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, “But how would she know about them unless she was shown?”

  They reached the third-floor landing, and Lanre paused. “Chantal’s quarters? Or would you prefer to freshen up first after your trip to the bluff?”

  “My quarters, please,” Maya answered. “I understand Aligh has planned something of a banquet in Chantal’s honor. It’d be disrespectful to attend still windblown and gritty.”

  “Certainly so,” Lanre answered. The chuckle he sent her sounded watery even in his mind as he led her down the hall toward her rooms.

  “In answer to your previous question,” Maya began. “Ralic was a prince of Reiont. Do you expect anyone to believe he doesn’t know about them? They haven’t changed in seven centuries.”

  “You have a point.” Lanre paused for a moment. “And you’ve found a major flaw in our defenses. I’ll have to speak with Grandfather about correcting it.”

  “It’s a pity we’re always so concerned with defense these days.”

  “Some of us more than others.”

  Maya turned to him so fast he winced, half expecting to hear her neck creak. He hadn’t meant to allow the fear he’d felt earlier let anger seep into his voice, but mental tone was difficult to control. Seeing her eyes wide with fear, he wished he’d spoken aloud, but this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have in a hallway.

  They walked in silence until they reached Maya’s room, and he led her inside. She waited until he closed the door before letting her expression slip.

  “Lanre,” she said. How could she make one word mean so much?

  He pulled her into his arms, trying to comfort her and make her understand at the same time.

  “I spent the better part of the morning looking for you,” he said. “I was going to ask if you could spare the time for a picnic in the garden.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “No one knew where you were!”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Maya trembled in his arms, and she pulled back, looking up at him with wide, tear-rimmed eyes. “I was so sure, and I couldn’t trust he’d keep to Tembar. I couldn’t bear the pain not knowing was causing you and Aligh.”

  A tear fell, and he wiped it away.

  “Why couldn’t you tell me?”

  “I knew you couldn’t confront him,” Maya answered, “not without some sort of proof. I don’t know what I thought I could find, going to him as I did, but I was certain I’d find something.” She sobbed, and he pulled her to him again. “That I found anything was pure chance. I was so foolish!”

  Maya clung to him, and he stroked her back. Time slipped away as he let her cry herself out.

  “I didn’t want to worry you,” she whispered.

  Lanre lifted her chin, and she watched him with those big, dark eyes he loved so much. He took her face in his hands and wiped her tears away.

  “We’ve been friends for most of our lives,” he said. “In a few days, we will marry. Your concerns are mine, as mine are yours. We’re meant to share them.”

  Maya nodded and lowered her gaze to the floor. Lanre leaned his forehead against hers.

  “Please, don’t leave me again,” he pleaded. He kissed her, showing her the love he held for her and his fear of losing her the only way he knew how without bombarding her mind.

  “Never.”

  Brigton had spent the morning in the craggy passes northwest of Reiont with his latest trainee. Granlayit was progressing through aerial maneuvers at an astonishing rate. He was gaining an arrogant streak as a result. Brigton discouraged its growth with harsh critiques. Yet, long experience told him nothing but the trials following Granlayit’s coming of age would cure him of it.

  When he returned an hour before sundown, Brigton was surprised to find Tricon speaking with Deligh. At first, he was pleased, thinking the younger male was finally asked to train a hatchling or had found a mate. Then, he noticed the droop in Tricon’s posture. Whatever business his friend had with the apartment keeper wasn’t of the pleasant sort.

  “Tricon,” he called. “What news?”

  “We've found Borcon.” Tricon’s voice creaked, and his wings drooped. “I’ve just sent a request to the council for their ruling on his treatment.”

  Brigton's neck stiffened at the mention of Borcon's name, but the rest of Tricon's news only made things worse. His chest constricted. His heart ached at the thought, and he found it hard to breathe. Such action was reserved for those suspected to have broken. If that were the case, was there any hope Lanre’s mother still lived?

  “Come, friend,” he said to Tricon. “Let’s find somewhere quiet.”

  Tricon nodded and followed Brigton in silence. They flew to the northern hills overlooking Reiont. There, they settled on the soft grass, taking what comfort they could from the last warm rays of twilight.

  “How was he found?” Brigton asked when it became obvious Tricon wouldn’t speak without prompting.

  “A girl came to us from Tembar,” Tricon answered. “Ralic remarried in secret, and she is his daughter.” He huffed, and smoke began to trickle from his nostrils. “She discovered her father engaged in questionable activities and came to turn him in.”

  Brigton blinked in surprise but waited for Tricon to continue.

  “They will seek a warrant for Ralic on many charges, one of which is capturing and imprisoning a Yekaran.”

  “How?” Brigton asked. Borcon had been his mentor and his hero as a hatchling. Borcon was aging, true, but he was still in his prime.

  “We cannot be sure,” Tricon answered, “but the evidence points toward them using Kalie to force his surrender.” He stretched his neck to its full length and keened. “The girl saw him chained down. Two women, matching the descriptions of Kalie and her handmaid Brihanni were held within his sight. The girl's tutor pulled her away, but the howling and his behavior since leave little doubt what happened.”

  Tricon rocked where he lay and roared his grief and outrage to the heavens. Brigton joined the cry. He felt the sorrow like a physical pain, yet he knew the burden was worse for Tricon and Lanre, who had both lost family.

  Brigton grieved for Borcon’s mind and the loss his friends bore. He braced himself for the full onslaught of emotion likely to hit Tricon. From his reactions, Brigton surmised his friend had yet to speak of his loss with anyone. Negative emotions affected Yekarans more than they did Terrans. A Yekaran in the first wave of grief was dangerous for humans to be around. If he knew his friend, Tricon trampled his emotions down and held them close until he’d sent word to the council. Only far away from Terran frailty would he seek release.

  “They made him watch as they killed her!” Anguish filled Tricon’s voice, and he beat the ground with one foreleg. Tricon snarled, claws rending the earth as he swung his attention to the south, toward Tembar. “I’ll kill Ralic for this,” Tricon vowed.

  Brigton had never heard the younger male raise his voice in anger. Hearing the hatred lacing it now, Brigton feared for his friend's sanity.

  “I’ll tear Ralic to pieces for what he’s done to his family and mine!” He sank his talons deep into the soil and heaved, ripping a deep hole into the once pristine clearing, eyes glazed and distant. His tail lashed, and he threw the great clods of sod with another primal roar of anguish.

  “Calm, Tricon,” Brigton admonished. “What would your brother say such vows?”

  Tricon snarled at him, eyes alight and bladhaire gland engaged, as he anchored himself into the ground by the talons of all four legs. His wings were held close, defensive but poised to flee, and his tail kept up its agitated dance. The display triggered Brigton's fight-or-flight response. If handled poorly, Tricon could be pushed into attacking, so his hind brain was justified in doing so, but this was unfortunately not the first time Brigton had helped a friend through the first wave of grief. He'd learned to not take such threat displays personally but see them as a normal part of the process.

  “My brother can no longer say anything!” Tricon snapped. Smoke huffed from Tricon with every breath now. “Ralic’s seen to that!”

  “Trust King Aligh,” Brigton said. He fought to keep his tone quiet and even. Tricon’s rage fanned the embers of his outrage at Ralic’s actions, but giving in to it would only feed Tricon’s anger in turn. “Trust Maya! Ralic will pay for what he’s done.”

  The fight seemed to leave Tricon all at once, and he sagged to the ground. A whine rose deep in Tricon’s throat. He spread himself on the hilltop, panting bouts of steam.

  “Why?”