Sorka noted with quiet pride that it was Sean’s opinion that seemed to be sought most frequently by the others. And she agreed. He had always been sensible about animals. But, she realized, she could not really call the dragons “animals.” They were too … human. Even their voices: Carenath’s voice sounded just like Sean’s light baritone being spoken through a long tunnel. And Sorka suspected that Faranth’s voice was a version of her own.

From the moment they had brought the two hatchlings to Irish Square, Sorka had realized that she heard both Faranth and Carenath, while Sean heard only Carenath. That Sorka could hear both did not seem to distress either dragon. They were amenable to everything in life as long as they had full bellies and oiled hides. Then, as Sean’s bond with the bronze developed, Sorka heard fewer private exchanges. She, too, had learned, as she suspected each dragonmate had, to communicate telepathically on a private band.

“I’d say they’ll be ready to hunt in another week or two—if we can use a small corral to pen the beasts.” Sean found her hand and squeezed it, then laid his hand over her belly. “All this won’t harm our child, will it?”

Sorka felt guilty. Lately, she had not had time to think about her condition: there was always something to be done for Faranth, or for one of the other young dragons. And she and Sean were still on duty at the dragonet clinic, treating those injured fighting Thread.

“The doctor said I was healthy and could ride …” Sorka groaned. “Will we be able to teach them to fly between, Sean?” Her voice was low, and she clutched his hand apprehensively.

“Now, dear heart, we’ll be able for what we have to do.” The unknown clearly did not faze Sean anymore.

“But Sean …”

“If we know where we’re going, they will. They’ll see it in our minds. They see everything else. What makes you think directions will be difficult?”

“But we don’t even know how the dragonets do it!”

Sean shrugged, grinning down at her. “No, we don’t. But if the fire-lizards are capable of the teleportation, the dragons will be, too. Kitti Ping did not tamper with that. Let’s not fret ourselves. We won’t fret them.”

She eyed him sourly, then shook her finger at him. “Then you stop worrying about it!”

Laughing, his blue eyes sparkling at her shrewd hit, he took her hand and pulled her into his embrace. She nestled there, taking strength from him and returning it. Although Sorka had never before felt so in charge of herself, so dynamic, there were moments when she was assailed with the fear that she might fail Faranth in some small but essential way. She expressed that to Sean.