She touched his cheek. "Jeid, don't you understand? All my life I searched for a home, for a place to belong. When I found Requiem, I found that home. I found kindred souls. And for the past year, I fought for Requiem with every fiber of my body, every drop of my blood, every horror that still claws inside my skull. The nightmares of the Abyss and the beauty of Requiem's columns will never leave me. Yes, I saved Requiem. I saved her for you. For Dorvin. For Maev. For Issari and Tanin. For every lost weredragon who is afraid, who is alone, who seeks a home. Requiem is saved. But not for me." She trembled. "My magic is gone, and I feel so hollow, so cold, but I gave the others a home. That will comfort me in my exile."

"Laira," Jeid said slowly, "when I first met you, I found a strong, wise woman. And for this year of war, I learned that your wisdom is greater than any I've known. But right now, you are speaking like a fool. By the stars, Laira. You're still Vir Requis."

"Even without the magic? Even without being able to shift into a dragon?" She snorted, tears in her eyes. "I'll never fly again, Jeid. I'll never feel the wind around me. I'll never see the forest from above. I'll never find our sky."

Jeid laughed softly. "Of course you will."

He took a step back and shifted.

The copper dragon stood in the snow, staring at Laira, the largest dragon in Requiem, his scales frosted, his eyes deep brown. Wordlessly, he lowered his wing, forming a ramp. He nodded.

Laira sniffed. She wanted to run. She wanted to forget him. But she found herself climbing his wing and straddling his back. Jeid kicked off, scattering snow, and beat his wings. Branches cracked and rained snow around them. With a few massive strokes, bending the trees and blowing back snow, Jeid cleared the treetops. He soared higher, caught a wind current, and glided.

Laira sat on the dragon's back, clinging on. The wind streamed across her, cold and fresh. The forests rolled below them, an endless painting all in white and silver, and Laira laughed and wept, for it was beautiful, and she was happy, and she was at peace.

"You will always fly, Laira," the dragon said. "We will always fly together. We will always find the sky."

The dragon turned in the sky, and they glided over the columns of Requiem. The grand hall seemed so small from up here, a mere toy, as if Laira could reach down and pluck the columns like a child lifting sticks. From up here, the palace seemed small but the sky was endless, blue, cold, and beautiful. Other dragons rose from below, and they all flew around her.

"Queen Laira!" they called. "May the stars bless our queen."