Terin let out a deep sympathetic sigh and Fiona found herself following, although in her mind’s eye it

wasn’t F’jian she thought of kissing—the person was a nebulous image, taller, older, but no one she

could quite identify with certainty.

“Maybe you should just kiss him,” Fiona suggested to Terin. “Like Nuella.”

Terin’s eyes grew huge at the notion and she shook her head in mute denial.

“From what I’ve heard,” Zenor began, “from Fiona—” He nodded to the Weyrwoman. “—and T’mar

and countless others, you’re the sort of woman that any dragonrider would be proud to call his mate—”

“Ew!” Terin exclaimed, scrunching up her face. “I don’t want to . . .” She trailed off uncomfortably.

“Well, you want to kiss him, don’t you?” Fiona demanded matter-of-factly. Reluctantly Terin nodded,

and Fiona’s face took on a triumphant expression, but before she could speak, Zenor said, “Kissing is a

good thing.” Fiona glanced at him sharply, but he persisted, “A kiss is good enough by itself for most

people I know.”

Fiona closed her mouth, considering his words.

“And a kiss isn’t such a big thing that it would of itself cause anyone to talk too much,” Zenor

continued, topping off Terin’s glass and passing it to her. She sipped reflexively. Zenor turned the

conversation to Fiona, asking, “And who would you kiss, Weyrwoman?”

It was Fiona’s turn to blush then. Sometime later she felt the warmth of Terin’s head resting on her

shoulder and realized that the younger woman had fallen asleep.

Zenor seemed not to notice, as he was engaged in a lengthy account of Silstra’s wedding and

Kindan’s part in it, a topic which Fiona found quite engaging.

“M’tal said that he’s with Lorana now,” Fiona broke in as Zenor paused to sip his wine.

“I don’t know who that is,” Zenor told her and raised a hand to stop her from telling him, saying, “And

if she’s from the future, I think it best if I know nothing more.”

Fiona stopped, frustrated, until Zenor asked if she would share her memories of Kindan, which she

gladly did. Somehow her memories reminded her of her flight to Fort Hold with T’mar and that got her

talking about T’mar.

“ . . . he’s so demanding, always saying, ‘Do it three times, then you’ll know!’ ” she exclaimed,

shaking her head and suddenly wishing she hadn’t. The room started spinning. Zenor was instantly at her

side, deftly removing the glass from her hand and steadying her, offering her a drink from a glass of water

and talking soothingly all the while.

When she recovered, she shrugged off Zenor’s suggestion that she get some rest. She had to tell him

something, she was certain, but she couldn’t think what. It took him a while to realize that something was