Student services was at the north end of the academy grounds, and it took her only a quarter of an hour to reach the Rearwood. Just as Carmenna had said, a few dragons arced back and forth over the trees like giant birds of prey: about three green ones, a rusty red one, and, yes, the violet-black dragon Weysh. Yenni stood for a moment, mesmerized by the grace of them weaving in and around each other, the sunlight flickering off their scales. Such creatures—people—had truly once existed on the Islands?

Suddenly Weysh swiveled in the air, as if jerked by an invisible string, and came zooming toward her. The other dragons continued to circle, but craned their necks in Weysh’s direction. He landed lightly, pulled back his wings, and curved his long neck toward her, clicking softly. To her surprise, Yenni felt no fear. In fact, she had the strangest urge to reach out and stroke the scales of his face. Instead, she balled her fists at her side and cleared her throat.

“Weh-sheh, I have come to speak with you.”

The dragon bent his knees and sat, curling his long tail to his side. He turned one eye on her and regarded her expectantly, with all the assured confidence of every prince she’d ever met.

“I am here to study, and I have no time for you and your distractions. I am not your Given and never will be, is that clear?”

Yenni held his gaze, steeling herself against his response.

8

Weysh drew deeply of her scent, savoring it. Not a hint of fear. He caught the sharp, steely tang of determination, but to his delight that sour fear was missing. He touched his nose gently to her shoulder. She let it rest there for the barest moment before stumbling back.

“Are you listening, Dragon?”

He let out a soft, clipped screech. Yes.

She looked confused. “Is that a yes? Change into a man.”

Weysh hesitated. She was so much more receptive to him in dragon.

“Change,” she said again. “I don’t have time to waste.”

Resigned, Weysh reached within for that inexplicable trigger, right at the core of his chest, and switched forms. The world became dull, except for Yenni, who seemed to rise up toward him. Her skin was painted all over with white Island runes. Rumor was that the Moonrise Islanders used the blood of small animals, even infants, some said, to make their runepaint. But that couldn’t be true. He wouldn’t believe it of his Given.

“You’re used to telling people what to do, en?” he said.

She ignored his comment. “Did you hear what I said? We cannot be together, and I expect you to leave me to my peace.”