Yenni frowned in thought. “To be honest, I did meet a dragon earlier, but perhaps meet is not the most accurate word. He accosted me.”

“En? Truly?” said Harth. At last, someone was having a reasonable reaction.

“Yes, a big violet-black one.”

“Ooooh,” they said together. “Weysh.”

“He’s . . . mostly harmless,” said Harth.

“Well, he licked me.”

“What?” said Zui. “He licked you? With his tongue? That is uncivilized, even for Weysh.”

“Oh, speak and the spoken appear,” said Harth. He waved at someone behind her. “Ho! Weysh!”

The same man who’d stared her down earlier strode toward them, his pace eating up swaths of the green grass. Up close he was tall, perhaps even taller than Harth Raynee Duval. He still wore his shirt open, and Yenni saw he had the build of a warrior, the muscles of his abdomen plainly sculpted. His hair still hung in that braid over his shoulder, and his dark eyebrows were drawn down over violet eyes that bore into hers shamelessly.

“Weysh!” called Harth. “I hear you’re going around licking unsuspecting women now.”

The man ignored him and came to stand right before Yenni.

“What’s your name?” His voice was deep, resonant. Was this really the dragon who had cornered her earlier? Yes, Yenni could believe it. There was something powerful about him, almost as if he radiated heat. And sections of his hair shone violet in the sunlight. Yenni stood straighter.

“I am Yenni Aja-Nifemi ka Yirba,” she answered. “I’m from the Sha . . . no. Moonrise—”

She gasped as the man lifted her up like she was a clay doll, buried his warm face against her neck, and sniffed. She was too shocked to stop him. He put her down and stared, like he’d taken a blow to the head and lost his wits. Yenni could only stare back, utterly lost for words.

“It’s really you,” he murmured at last, and reached for her again.

Yenni struck out like a hood snake, kicking his arm away.

“For the blessing of Byen!” he roared. Zui gasped beside her.

She yanked her spring-spear from the holder on her back, twisting the mechanism to make it extend, and pointed it at him. “Understand that if you touch me again I will run you through.”

Harth glanced back and forth between the two of them, his mouth agape.

The dragon cradled his arm to his chest and had the audacity to look at her like she was at fault. “En?”

“Stay away from me, Dragon.”

He looked absolutely perplexed. “But . . . you’re my Given!”

4

The Island girl—his Given—pointed the sharp tip of her metal spear right at his throat. Weysh blinked at it, bewildered.

“What does this mean, Given?” she demanded.

“En? It means we’re bonded through the will of Byen.”