He still didn’t want it, any of it. The monks regarded him with supposed reverence, but he could see the fear and loathing in their eyes. The same fear and loathing that he’d seen, briefly, in Marcus’s eyes. The same that he saw, always, in Evelina’s eyes.

Much as they loathed him, they could not loathe him as much as he loathed the dragon part of himself. He had to overcome that. The man, Ven, felt differently than the child. He had to learn how to use the magic. He would need it to destroy Grald.

One thing Ven had learned or at least guessed from his mental battle with Grald.

The dragon had no idea what had become of Draconas.

6

THIS WAS ONLY THE SECOND SESSION OF THE PARLIAMENT OF Dragons the young female, Lysira, had ever attended. Anora’s urgent summons to convene Parliament had come unexpectedly. Given the current crisis, the unexpected was only to be expected, or so Lysira concluded.

She was pleased at the prospect of the meeting—not so much because of the meeting itself, although she found those fascinating. She was pleased because this meant she would have another chance to see the Walker, Draconas. If Lysira had been a human female, her heart would have fluttered at the thought. Being dragon, Lysira’s heart thudded calmly. Her dreams trembled.

Dragons prefer to live their lives in isolation, free to dream their dreams alone and undisturbed. They come together to mate and raise their young, and that only grudgingly, for neither much enjoys the physical process of mating, and both are glad to have it done and over with as swiftly as possible. For dragons, love is the mating of two minds, not two bodies; the blending of two wondrous dreams, the merging of fantastic colors and delightful images. The true mating ritual takes place in the minds of the pair and may go on for years, as they work together to build the nest that will house their young and create the elaborate labyrinthine illusions that baffle intruders and keep the young safe from harm until they are old enough to dream their own dreams.

Lysira had been enchanted by the images she saw in Draconas’s mind—so different from those of other dragons. His view of the world was different, for he saw it at ground level. He saw the world walking. He walked with those strange creatures—humans. He spoke to them, touched them, had even learned to think like them. The minds of other dragons were like her own, filled with colors that were lovely, tranquil, serene. Draconas’s colors—his human colors—were garish, jagged, jarring, ugly, and beautiful, achingly beautiful.