The Widejaws had spoken of Raem. Of my father. Laira shivered. He's alive.

How could he live? Laira had bitten off his arms. Jeid had bitten off his legs. How could anyone survive such an injury? And yet those words returned to her, the words the Widejaw had spoken: . . . you heard what Lord Raem said. We're to kill every last dragon other than this Laira.

The fear clutched her like sphinx claws. Raem lives.

She couldn't sleep, and the thoughts kept racing through her mind, and it seemed like half the night had passed when Laira heard Maev whisper.

"I'm so sorry." Maev trembled. "I'm so sorry, Laira."

Laira stiffened, sure that Maev was talking to her, but no—Maev kept whispering to herself.

She thinks I'm still asleep.

"I'm sorry." Maev's voice was choked with tears. "I'm so scared. Please be safe, Dorvin. Please be safe, Grizzly. Please forgive me, Laira. I'm so scared."

Laira felt something warm melt inside her like tallow over a fire. She waited until Maev's voice faded to a whisper and was gone. Then Laira wriggled a little closer, letting her body warm Maev. She hesitated for a moment, then slung an arm across Maev, holding her close.

Maev stiffened. "Laira, are you awake?" she whispered.

Laira said nothing. Maev's words had been spoken in secret; she knew that.

But I can still soothe her, give her some comfort, some warmth. She's taller than me, older than me, stronger than me, but I'm still married to her father. She's still my daughter.

Maev's tense muscles relaxed, and soon she slept, breathing deeply. Laira smiled and let her worries flow away for one night, and she welcomed the deep embrace of sleep.

TANIN

 
TANIN

He languished in shadows.

All was darkness, screams, and blood.

He huddled in the corner of his cell, shivering. It was a small cell, too small for him to lie down; he slept seated, knees pulled to his chest. A single torch flickered in the hallway, its light falling between the bars of his door, illuminating craggy bricks, cobwebs, and bloodstains. Shadows fell whenever the guards walked by; five or six patrolled the hallway, clad in ring mail, their beards long and curled.

"Come to me, friend," Tanin whispered. He reached out a frail, trembling hand toward the spider. "Come to me."

The thin, long-legged arachnid crept across the floor, moving toward him.

"That's it," Tanin whispered.

The spider reached him and Tanin lowered his hand, letting it crawl onto his finger. He lifted his hand, admiring his little companion.

"Hello there, friend. So nice of you to visit. I've been lonely. I've been so alone."

The spider seemed to regard him in the flickering shadows. Tanin closed his eyes, shoved the animal into his mouth, and quickly swallowed. He tried to ignore the feeling of the spider sliding down his throat.

I've killed a friend.