“Two full wings with more to come,” Fiona reminded him, catching and holding his eyes until the Weyrleader nodded, however glumly. “And we’ve more than a fortnight before the next Fall.” She glanced over at the chalk tally board she kept of the Weyr’s injuries, pointing to it as she added, “And we’ll have another thirteen return to the fight in the next sevenday, so we’ll have those to haul firestone and fly in reserve.”

“We’ve seen worse,” T’mar agreed. He glanced up again to catch Fiona’s eyes as he admitted, “It’s just that, lately, I’ve been feeling like something is going to happen.”

“Something worse?” Fiona asked in a matching tone of dread.

T’mar nodded.

“That’s why I’ve had someone with Lorana,” Fiona said. “She hasn’t been quite the same since we returned from Benden.”

“Because of Tullea—”

“No,” Fiona interrupted, “I think because of Ketan.”

“The healer?”

“He lost his dragon not long after hers,” Fiona said. “I think his collapse has caused her to question her own feelings.”

“The pregnancy—”

“Oh, it could be the pregnancy,” Fiona agreed quickly. “In fact, some of it must be.” She pursed her lips. “But it seems like there’s more, like she’s all ready to give up hope.”

“She’s got Kindan—”

“Whose presence as Weyrlingmaster merely reminds her of the dangers we all face,” Fiona cut him off.

“She’s got you,” T’mar tried again.

“And I’ve got a queen, and I’ve got you, and I’ve got Kindan,” Fiona said. “Sometimes I think that she might not be so happy to have me.”

T’mar eyed her thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “So you are worried, too?”

Fiona bit her lip. She knew what the Weyrleader meant—that she was not just worried about Lorana, but also worried about their situation: the losses, the slim numbers, the lack of hope.

“I’ll never admit that,” Fiona said after a moment, shaking her head firmly. She lowered her head for a moment, avoiding his eyes and then raised it again, her expression set. “I’m worried about Lorana.”

T’mar suppressed a chuckle. It was clear that Fiona was sublimating all her other fears into this one.

“Well, I think she’ll be fine,” he told her cheerfully.

“You take care of yourself,” Tullea told B’nik feelingly as the bronze rider sat astride Caranth as he prepared to lead three full Wings of fighting dragons—with two half-wings ready to haul firestone and provide reserves—into the first combined fight of Benden and High Reaches Weyrs eleven days later.

“We’ll be fine,” B’nik assured her with a grin, gesturing to include all the fighting dragons. “D’vin’s a fine leader and his Weyr is the best-trained of us all.”