Maev snorted. "I could tell. You kept talking about loving this and loving that." She rolled her eyes. "What were you dreaming about—being some hero? Saving a damsel in distress?" She shoved him back down. "Quit dreaming and get ready to fly! We're flying to save a prince, dear brother, not a damsel for you to bed." She tapped her chin. "Unless you prefer princes. But in that case, you'll have to fight me for him, because I'm claiming him for myself."

He groaned and rose to his feet. The evening was cold, and he shivered and stuffed his hands under his armpits. Since leaving the escarpment, they'd been spending the days sleeping, hiding under leaf and fur, and flying only under cover of darkness. As Tanin hopped around for warmth, he watched the sun disappear below the horizon, and shadows—the best friends of a Vir Requis—fell across the forest.

"I hope you fly faster tonight," Maev said; he could just make out her frown. "You fly slower than a dove against the wind."

"I'm eating breakfast first. Or dinner. Or whatever meal it is now." He reached into his pack, rummaged around, and found a salted sausage. The meat was cold and damp—the rain had wet his pack overnight—but better than an empty belly.

It was Maev's turn to groan. She mimicked him, speaking in a deep whine. "I want breakfast. I want to sleep longer. I want to love." She rolled her eyes. "Bloody stars, brother! I swear you're a princess yourself." She shoved him. "Toughen up and let's fly."

She snatched the rest of the sausage from him, stuffed it into her mouth, and shifted. A green dragon, she crashed through the forest canopy and rose into the sky. Already mourning the loss of his sausage, Tanin grabbed a handful of nuts from his pack.

"Tanin!" rose the dragon's cry above. "Shift or I'm going to burn down the damn forest."

Grumbling under his breath, Tanin stuffed the nuts into his mouth and shifted too. A red dragon, he rose through the shattered canopy to hover beside Maev.

"Try to keep up this time." She slapped him with her tail, then darted off, wings beating. With a sigh, Tanin followed.

They flew through the night. Clouds hid the stars, and the moon was only a pale wisp behind the veil. It began to rain again, the drops pattering against Tanin's scales, pooling atop his wings, and entering his nostrils. He could barely see Maev ahead, only brief lights when sparks fled her mouth.

In the darkness, like in sleep, it was easy to remember.

"Ciana," he whispered.

He had not loved a woman since. He had barely seen women since, aside from his sister, whom Tanin was convinced was half warthog. That had been the day everything had changed: the day Mother died, the day they fled into exile, and the day Tanin made his vow.