Heart and mind together
Impressed, bound forever.

Telgar Weyr, early morning, AL 508.2.9

Fiona was glad to be warm and realized that it was because she’d managed to amass a large group of people to share her bed. She opened one bleary eye and spied Xhinna, then the top of a smaller blond head—Bekka; another body lying against her other side felt like Terin, and she wondered how she’d managed to pry her away from F’jian when she heard a male snore from the other side of Terin. Anchoring the far side of the bed beyond Bekka was Seban, with an arm wrapped possessively around his daughter.

Fiona closed her eye and smiled as she snuggled further into the warmth of all those bodies.

She was glad to have her friends from Fort Weyr and from her sojourn back in time at Igen Weyr, just as she was glad to learn that many of the Fort Weyr weyrfolk had joined their riders, even whole families. The youngest had immediately found friends among the Telgar children, and Fiona planned to emulate them immediately.

She would have no factions in her Weyr.

A cough caused her to open her eye again as she glanced around, wondering if someone else had heard it. Bekka stirred in her sleep, moaning, then settling as Seban moved sleepily to comfort her. Terin made a slight whimpering sound that was answered by a half-formed murmur from F’jian, echoed by Xhinna.

Fiona closed her eyes, wishing her head weren’t pounding quite so badly. She wasn’t willing to admit it was the wine she’d drank—perhaps it was the noise or cheering or the intense emotions of the night before. Perhaps it was the muzziness that still seemed to cling to her, T’mar, and the others, though they managed to ignore it most of the time. Perhaps—

The cough came again.

Fiona was instantly out of bed and rushing toward Talenth, an inchoate scream filling the room, waking all the others.

I don’t feel well, Telgar’s only queen dragon informed her.

F’jian and Terin arranged breakfast and forced Fiona to eat, setting up a table and chair next to Talenth in her lair.

“You’ve got to keep your strength up,” Terin said.

“I’ll get Norik,” Xhinna said, rushing off.

F’jian and Terin excused themselves, moving back to Fiona’s quarters to wash and prepare for the day.

“She’ll be all right,” Bekka said, looking from the gold dragon to her rider, her face sketching a quick smile. “You’ll see.”

Fiona nodded in acceptance of the calm words; her expression remained bleak. The sickness that had taken so many dragons—starting with Salina’s Breth, Lorana’s Arith, through to Seban’s Serth, had come upon her dragon. Her queen. Her life, her breath, her hopes, her love—the very center of her being. How could she survive without Talenth?