His eyes never leaving Brekke’s, F’nor rose slowly and circled the table. He slid beside her on the bench, pulling her against him with his good arm. Her head fell back on his shoulder and he bent to the incredible sweetness of her lips. Her body was soft and pliable, her arms went around him, pressing him to her with a total surrender to his virility that he had never before experienced. No matter how eager others had seemed, or gratified, there had never been such a total commitment to him. Such an innocence of…

Abruptly F’nor raised his head, looking deep into her eyes.

“You’ve never slept with T’bor.” He stated it as a fact. “You’ve never slept with any man.”

She hid her face in his shoulder, the pliancy of her body gone. He gently forced her head up.

“Why have you deliberately let it be assumed that you and T’bor…”

She was shaking her head slightly from side to side, her eyes concealing nothing, her face a mask of sorrow.

“To keep other men from you?” F’nor demanded, giving her a little shake. “Why? Whom are you keeping yourself for?”

He knew the answer before she spoke, knew it when she placed her finger on his lips to silence him. But he couldn’t understand her sorrow. He’d been a fool but…

“I have loved you since the first day I saw you. You were so kind to us, yanked away from Craft and Hold, dazed because we’d been brought all the way here on Search for Wirenth. One of us would actually be a Weyrwoman. And you—you were all a dragonman should be, tall and handsome, so kind. I didn’t know then—” and Brekke faltered. To F’nor’s concern, tears filmed her eyes. “How could I know that only bronze dragons fly queens!”

F’nor held the weeping girl to his chest, his lips against her soft hair, her trembling hands folded in his. Yes, there was much about Brekke he could understand now.

“Dear girl,” he said when her tears lessened, “is that why you refused N’ton?”

She nodded her head against his shoulder, unwilling to look at him.

“Then you’re a silly clunch and deserve all the anguish you’ve put yourself through,” he said, his teasing voice taking the sting from his words. He patted her shoulder and sighed exaggeratedly. “And craftbred as well. Have you taken in nothing you’ve been told about dragonfolk? Weyrwomen can’t be bound by any commoner moralities. A Weyrwoman has to be subservient to her queen’s needs, including mating with many riders if her queen is flown by different dragons. Most craft and holdbred girls envy such freedom…”

“Of that I’m all too aware,” Brekke said and her body seemed to resent his touch.

“Does Wirenth object to me?”