She shook her head and hurried away, the weight of Argus’s gaze on her back. Even though she knew it was stupid, she willed him to come after her, to call her name again, to do something other than what he did—which was to watch her leave and then turn away to answer Niam Tais.

Hlee spent the next week doing everything she could to distract herself from the certainty that with the start of term looming, Argus would be leaving soon. She cleaned her room, painted the fence with her dad, and helped her mom weed the yard.

It rained on the last Friday evening of summer break as the sun was setting. The downpour was brief, the clouds dispersing quickly. When Hlee glanced out her window, the faint impression of a rainbow arched across the dusky night sky. Its colors were barely discernible—it looked more silvery than anything—but still, it took her breath away.

Before she’d thought it through, she had her shoes on and was flying out her front door. She had to make sure Argus was seeing this. If nothing else, they’d have this memory of their summer together—like the lunar rainbow, rare and brief, but beautiful.

Warm squares of light from the windows illuminated the yard as she approached Niam Tais’s house. When she burst inside, though, neither Niam Tais nor Argus appeared to be home. If they’d gone into town, it was possible she’d blown right past them on her bike.

Why would they leave all the lights on, though? Her skin prickled with unease as she left the empty house. The lunar rainbow shone overhead, startlingly close, silver rippling in the moonlight, almost like . . . scales?

Shaking her head, she wandered past the house, instinct guiding her feet. The glow of the lunar rainbow cast the trees in silver, as if all the woods had been dusted in the strange luminous shine as their clearing. Ahead, a familiar voice filtered through the night.

She rushed forward, scraping her palm against a sharp branch as she emerged into the clearing. At its center, Niam Tais sat hunched over Argus, who was sprawled on his back, his chest so still that she couldn’t be sure he was breathing. His eyes glowed white-hot, not a trick of the light this time. Her stomach made an alarmed lurch.

“Hlee.” Argus exhaled her name like a long-held breath.

Niam Tais looked up, her cheeks streaked with tears, as Hlee dropped down beside her. With a tremulous smile so unlike her usual confidence, she squeezed Hlee’s shoulder and backed away to give them space.

“What’s happening?” Hlee asked, her voice high with fear. Her hands flitted from his cheeks to his shoulders, uncertain how to comfort him.

“I was hoping you’d come,” he gasped, as if each word fought to pass his lips. “Niam Tais wanted me to leave the second we saw the emperor’s dragon, but I waited.”