“Can you? Show me how you see it—just that. Draw it for me.” He pulled her sketchbook out of her bag. “I haven’t got a clear image of it.”

“No? I don’t know how you could write this without it.” She picked up a pencil and began to draw. “The dragon should be magnificent. Fierce and beautiful, with wonderful gold wings and eyes like rubies. Long and sleek and powerful,” she murmured as she sketched. “Wild and dangerous.”

It was precisely what he’d wanted, Liam noted as the drawing came to life under her hand. No tame pet, no captured oddity. She had it exactly: the proud, fierce head, the long powerful body with its wide sweep of wings, the slashing tail, the feel of great movement.

“Do another now.” Impatient, he tore off the first sketch, set it aside. “Of the sea and hills.”

“All right.” She supposed a rough drawing might help him get a more solid visual for his story. Closing her eyes a moment, she brought the image into her mind, that wide, shimmering sea with cresting waves, the jagged rocks that speared silver out of thick, swirling mists, the glint of sunlight gilding the edges, and the dark shadow of mountains beyond.

When she was done with it, he ripped that page away as well, demanded she do another. This time of Yilard, the evil witch.

She had great fun with that, grinning to herself as she worked. He should be handsome, she decided. Cruelly so. No wart-faced gnome with a hunched back, but a tall, dashing man with flowing hair and hard, dark eyes. She dressed him in robes, imagined they would be red, like a prince.

“Why didn’t you make him ugly?” Liam asked her.

“Because he wouldn’t be. And if he were, it might seem as if Brinda refused him just because of his looks. She didn’t—it was his heart she rejected. The darkness of it that you’d see in the eyes.”

“But the hero, he’d be more handsome.”

“Of course. We’d expect, even demand that. But he won’t be one of those girlishly pretty men with curly gold hair.” Lost in the story, she tore off the page herself to begin another. “He’ll be dark—dangerous, too. Brave, certainly, but not without flaws. I like my heroes human. Still, he risked his life for Brinda, first for honor. And then for love.”

She laughed a little as she leaned back from the sketch. “He looks a bit like you,” she commented. “But why not? It’s your story. Everyone wants to be the hero of their own story, after all.” She smiled at him. “And it’s a wonderful story, Liam. Can I read the rest?”

“Not yet.” There were changes to be made now, he thought, and switched off the screen.