“Yes, only for a moment, though. Is Marcus safe?”

“He is with his own kind. He and the female who accompanies him—”

“Never mind her,” said Draconas. “She is irrelevant.”

“I trust you don’t consider all females irrelevant,” returned Lysira, her colors bright. She was a young dragon and excited about her first venture into the world.

“No, Lysira. I find females extremely relevant, especially those who risk their lives to help me. This one human female, however, has nothing to do with our predicament.”

“I was teasing,” said Lysira.

“I know you were,” said Draconas. “And so Marcus is safe, at least for the moment.”

“He almost fell victim to the dragon. I was watching him, as you told me, and he very nearly let Grald into his mind. I warned him away. That is the first time I have ever spoken to a human. It was strange. But I liked it. I didn’t think I would.”

Draconas’s colors warmed. He wished beyond anything in the world that he’d met this vibrant young female in a different time— a time when he could have spent years letting his dreams twine with hers.

“What do you want me to do now, Draconas?” Lysira asked, and he saw her colors shimmer and tremble. She must have seen what he was thinking.

“There’s nothing you can do, not without tipping off Grald and the other dragons that you’re spying on them. You are careful to keep out of sight, aren’t you?”

“I am flying at such a high altitude that I have to come down every once in a while to catch my breath.”

“We’re about to be interrupted. I must soon leave you, Lysira. Tell me quickly, have you heard anything from Anora?”

“She has not communicated with me or with Malfiesto or the other dragons with whom I’ve been in contact. That is not surprising, though,” Lysira added, her colors darkening, “since we are the ones who spoke out against her.”

“Do not trust Anora,” Draconas warned. “If she tries to talk to you, do not let her into your mind.”

“She is an elder dragon, Draconas,” said Lysira gently. “And very powerful. If she wants to speak to me, there is not much I can do to stop her. You know that.”

Draconas did know He’d been holding Anora at bay thus far by keeping his colors to himself as much as possible.

“Just ... be careful, Lysira.”

“I will,” she promised and her colors were lovely and lingered in his mind.

“Draca.” A gentle hand touched his shoulder.

Stretching, Draconas sighed and blinked up drowsily at the motherly woman bending over him.

“Draca,” said Rosa, “I’m sorry to wake you, but it is noontime. You’ve slept the morning through. Anton is home for his meal and I thought you might be hungry—”