Gwen shook her head quickly, squeezing Isobelle’s hand. She’d woken more than once to find Isobelle’s anxious face bending over her in the dark, having come running from her room in response to Gwen’s cries as she fought dragons in her dreams. “No, I just . . . I can feel it. The people love us right now because we saved them from the dragon, and Whimsitt has to go with it and pretend he’s behind us to avoid them turning on him. He’s a politician, and he’s not stupid. But it’s not going to last forever. I can see the way he looks at me when no one else can see him.”

A part of Gwen quailed, weary and bitter, wondering if she would have to see that look on men’s faces for the rest of her life, every time she stood up when they wanted her to fall fainting to the ground.

Isobelle’s face sobered even more. “I’ve seen it, too,” she admitted. “I guess some men can’t forgive a woman who reveals them to be a fool in noble clothing.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” Gwen said. Part of her wished she could just bury her worries, or at least keep them from Isobelle, because she hated seeing that worry reflected in those luminous eyes. But the rest of her knew that was foolish, even if it wasn’t also unfair. Of the two of them, Isobelle stood a much better chance of strategizing their way through Lord Whimsitt’s machinations. “A matter of time before we’re not welcome here anymore. Somehow, I don’t think we can rely on having a dragon pop out of the ground every time I need a public relations boost.”

Isobelle’s lips quirked, and she said, “When I was searching the castle archives for some loophole about my dowry, I did find something interesting.” Her expression betrayed the tiniest flicker of sadness about her failure to find the loophole she was looking for. “Did you know that this county was originally called Drakhaven?”

Gwen felt her eyebrows rise. “As in, a haven for dragons?”

Isobelle laughed, lifted one of her shoulders in a shrug, and gazed whimsically up at her. “At some point, someone must have thought it’d be a good idea to do some rebranding. But, well, when it comes to dragons popping up, you never know.”

Gwen found herself smiling, though she couldn’t quite banish the chill that ran down her spine at the memory of Whimsitt’s anger whenever he saw her. “I hate leaving our fate up to chance.”

But far from looking afraid, Isobelle just looked thoughtful, her lips pursing slightly. Finally, she said airily, “By the way, I’ve had a letter from Astreta.”

Gwen blinked at her. “The dancer, from the dragon bonfire? The one who danced the part of the knight?”