“The concerns of dragons are the concerns of dragons,” Sintara said crushingly.

Mercor did not reply to the girl. “It will be like your name, Sintara,” he said flatly. “I will let it go so far, and then I will take charge of it. And perhaps I will take charge of your keeper as well.”

Sintara opened her wings and stretched her neck. She felt what would one day be the frilled spines of her neck stand out. Even so, Mercor was still larger than she was. A glint of amusement in his black eyes only incensed her more. “You will never take charge of my keeper,” she hissed. The barest threat of venom floated on her words. “What is mine, I keep.” Thymara lifted her arms to shield her face and eyes and retreated a few steps.

“See that you do,” Mercor replied affably. “Keep your keeper as you should, and you have nothing to fret about, little queen.”

The diminutive infuriated her beyond reason. She shot her neck out, jaws wide. Mercor whirled, and a snap of his larger wing slammed the bony joint knob of it against her ribs. She slapped ineffectually at him with her smaller wings as she staggered back. Thymara let out a shriek. All around them on the muddy delta, dragons were lifting heads and opening wings, staring toward the altercation. Keepers darted about like ants in a disturbed nest, squawking at one another.

“Do you require help, Sintara?” Sestican asked. The large blue advanced a step toward them, his own wings lifting and the frill on his neck standing out in challenge.

“Sestican, no!” his keeper shouted, but the dragon paid no attention to Lecter. His spinning eyes were fixed only on Mercor. The two dragons, wings lifted, heads swaying, regarded one another balefully.

“I am a queen! I require no help from anyone,” Sintara replied disdainfully. “Keeper! I wish to go to the freshwater river to be cleaned. Get your tools and follow me there.”

It was not a retreat, she thought angrily as she stalked haughtily away. She was simply not interested in anything either of them might do or say. She would not allow the males to fight over her on the ground, as if such an earthbound battle could prove something or win favor with her. No. When the time came, she would soar in flight, and all the males, every one of them, would vie for her and beat one another bloody in an attempt to catch her eye. And when they were eliminated to one, then she would outfly and defy him. Mercor would never master her.

“PERHAPS YOU COULD reason with him.”