After a brief hesitation, he took it from her. For a moment, he held the trinket in his hand. Then he looped the chain over his neck and slid the locket inside his shirt. “Always,” he agreed.

She rose so he wouldn’t see her eyes filling up. Could it be that simple to be done with the old and finally begin clean with the new? She lifted the lid off the kettle and gave the soup a stir. It was barely simmering. She’d have to ask the keepers to go out and bring her back anything that might burn if they wanted cooked food tonight. She opened the front of the little stove and scowled at the dying coals. “We need fuel,” she said, to be saying anything.

“Here’s something we can burn,” Sedric said and flipped the tiny portrait into the fire. She hadn’t seen him pick it up and look at it. It landed in the fire, and a single flame flared up briefly before the image curled and blackened. “And here’s something else.” The lock of Hest’s black hair landed on the dying coals and singed. Smoke rose from it and she hastily slammed the door of the stove.

“Oh, that stinks!” she exclaimed.

Sedric sniffed. “He does, doesn’t he?”

She covered her mouth and nose, and then she laughed around her hand. To her surprise, Sedric joined her, and suddenly they were both laughing together as they had not in Sa knew how long. Then somehow, he was crying instead, and her arms were around him, and she found she was crying, too. “It’s going to be all right,” she managed to say to him. “It’s going to be all right. I’ve got you, my friend. We’ll be fine.”

AFTER SYLVE HAD left the room, Thymara had spent some time alone in the darkness crying. It was stupid and useless. She’d done it anyway. And when she was sure that all her tears had been used, that all of her sorrow had been converted to anger, she left the little room and went in search of Sintara.

She went to the bow rail and located the dragons. They were not far from the barge. Some of them were lying down next to one another, each one’s chin cradled on the next dragon’s back. It looked sociable and peaceful, but she knew the truth. It was the only way the dragons could rest their legs and sleep without their heads dipping into the water. Sintara was not sleeping. She was moving slowly through a reed bed, peering down into the water. Probably hoping for a frog or a fish. Or anything made of meat. The recent rainfall had washed the dragons clean. The afternoon sun had broken through the overcast and glittered on Sintara. Despite her anger, Thymara could not help but see the beauty of her dragon.