“Maybe,” Fiona said, shrugging one shoulder. “Sometimes I think it’s all an act and perhaps when I get older I’ll regret all the decisions I’ve made”—she paused, hugging Lorana closer to her—“except this one.”

“Which one?” Lorana asked. “The decision to save Zirenth was mine and the mating flight was a natural result of that first decision.” She pursed her lips. “Unless you’re trying to claim you influenced Talenth in her choice of mate?”

“Not as much as she influenced me,” Fiona said. “But we worked as a team that day, as you and I work as a team now.”

“Do you suppose we could choose to break our bond?”

“I hope not,” Fiona said. “But I suppose it’s possible.” She frowned, adding, “There’s nothing like this in the Records and no guarantee that it will last.” She glanced down to Lorana’s belly. “Perhaps when your baby is born the bond will break.”

“I hope not,” Lorana said softly, surprising Fiona. She caught the young woman’s reaction and patted her on the arm, admitting softly, “I need someone to share this all with—”

“What about Kindan?”

“With him I share what he can’t feel,” Lorana said. “With you, I share what we can feel.”

“We complete each other, don’t we?” Fiona asked, hoping that Lorana would agree and worried that she might not

“The three of us.”

“Four, I think,” Fiona said. “I think T’mar is part of it.” Lorana furrowed her brows questioningly. “If it had been another bronze injured and you and Kindan had bonded with it, I’m not sure I would have reacted the same way; I’m not sure Talenth would have mated with him.”

“And if it had been another man with me than Kindan …?”

“I’m not sure.”

“So what happened required four people to be in love and committed to their best interests,” Lorana said.

“Yes,” Fiona agreed. “I doubt it would happen any other way.” She smiled at Lorana. “And not just any people but four very special people.”

“Each with their own pain and their own need,” Lorana added in agreement. Fiona said nothing; she hugged her tighter.

“So, are we rested?” T’mar asked H’nez, his lips quirked teasingly as the tall, lanky bronze rider and he strode out to their dragons shortly after lunch two days later.

“As much as we can be,” H’nez allowed grimly. He leaned closer to the Weyrleader, lowering his pitch for his ears alone. “I’m still concerned about the Wings.”

“With the split?” T’mar asked, glancing up at the taller man’s troubled brown eyes. “We need a reserve group, riders to get more firestone.”

“That’s exactly what M’tal thought.”

“His reasoning was sound,” T’mar said. “And B’nik reports light winds aloft … as do our watch riders.”