“Dragons are larger than riders,” Fiona said, “so they’re more likely to get injured just because of their greater size.”

T’mar flipped the fingers of one hand up in agreement. Dragons were injured nearly eight times more often than riders; Fiona was right, it was a simple question of size.

“We’re doing pretty well all the same,” Fiona said, catching T’mar’s eyes and glancing significantly toward H’nez, who wore a glum look. “We’ve only twenty-three injured, and nine of them only slightly.”

“And twenty-one are lost forever,” H’nez reminded them grimly. Jeila, who was sitting beside him, reached for his near hand and cradled it comfortingly. “Of all the Weyrs, we’ve lost the most.”

“No more than Ista,” Fiona said.

“And High Reaches is close, with nineteen,” T’mar added, shaking his head emphatically. “So, if you’re to make comparisons, H’nez, remember that you’re comparing yourself with M’tal and D’vin—both of whom have been Weyrleaders Turns longer than you’ve been leading Falls.”

H’nez started to reply, thought better of it and, with a sigh, nodded glumly.

“Besides,” Fiona said, “if you’ll recall, J’lantir led the Weyr for the earliest Fall.”

“He was a good man,” H’nez said.

“Even good men can make mistakes,” T’mar said. He shook himself and rose from the table. “And with that, I will say good evening, I think we can all use our rest.”

He cast a questioning look toward Fiona, hand outstretched. She frowned thoughtfully before rising and grabbing his hand. Together they paid their compliments to Shaneese and departed into the darkened Bowl.

Much later, Fiona found herself taking a hurried bath in T’mar’s quarters before quietly sneaking back to her own weyr. She paused in Talenth’s lair for a long time, watching the flanks of her queen as they rose and fell with her breathing. Her stomach had turned lumpy with the growing eggs.

Talenth twitched in her sleep, as though reacting to Fiona’s presence. To soothe her, Fiona moved over to the queen’s great head and gently scratched her eye ridges. Talenth exhaled noisily, twisted slightly on her side as though trying to get comfortable and slid back into a deeper slumber.

A smile played across Fiona’s lips as she watched her queen, marveling that such an amazing person could love her.

A slight noise from the entrance of her quarters warned her that she was not alone. Without turning, she knew it was Kindan. She couldn’t say how long he’d been watching her. Beyond him she felt the comforting presence of Lorana, asleep. For a moment Fiona allowed herself once again to be amazed at how she felt Lorana’s presence, much like she felt Talenth—like fabric brushing against her skin or her hair when the wind tossed it—part of her and, yet, apart.

It was not like that with Kindan. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath came faster to her, his very presence energized her.