What’s the point of dreaming about being a dragon when you can’t even breathe fire? Croi, feeling resentful, looks around her surroundings and realizes that she’s perched, very precariously, at the edge of a mountain. Will it hurt if she falls down in a dream? She’d much rather not find out.

Suddenly lightning flashes and the dreamscape trembles. A moment later, Croi hears familiar footsteps behind her.

“A dragon?” an amused voice says. “Why a dragon?”

Croi hangs her head, reluctant to turn around. Who other than her would meet a beautiful fae prince as a lizard? Her maiden heart is bruised.

“Hey…” Irial sounds uncertain now. “It is you, right? Can’t you tell me your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘you’ or ‘the kin who changes bodies every time I see her.’ I give you my word that I won’t try to hurt you with it.”

Croi backs her ungainly form away from the precipice and, after much maneuvering, manages to turn around. “Don’t look at me. I’m a lizard.”

“You’re much more than a lizard. You’re a dragon!” Irial grins at her, and Croi feels the stirrings of fire in her heart. She gets excited, but the fire fizzles out a moment later. “I’ve already given you my word. Tell me your name, huh,” he cajoles.

“Should you give your word so easily? Have you seen what happens to people who break their word? I haven’t. Is it really as terrible as everyone says it is?” Croi looks at Irial and finds that today he is wearing red flowers in his hair. In fact, every time she has seen him, he has been wearing flowers in his hair. Is it a prince thing? She decides not to ask.

“There’s an area in the grounds of the Talamh Caisleán called the Stone Garden. Instead of plants, however, the place is filled with kin who broke their word and, as a consequence, were turned into living stone. Sometimes people who break their word are hit by a century’s worth of bad luck at the same time, sometimes they disappear, but mostly they turn into living stone,” Irial replies. “I will take you there when you arrive at the Caisleán.”

Croi blinks at him. “That’s all right. You don’t have to bother.”

“So? Your name?” His eyes are too warm. Too coaxing.

“Croi,” Croi tells him. Maybe she shouldn’t have given Uaine her word so easily. Did the stone maid break her word? Is that why she’s stone? If she didn’t break her word, what did she do to get turned into stone?

“Croi.” Irial says her name, and Croi shivers, her attention drawn back to him. The way he speaks her name is intimate, a caress even. She shudders, her dragon body ruining the moment. “You’re the only Croi I know.”

“I…” Can dragons blush? Croi looks down to see her green scaly body turning red. The horror! The humiliation!

Thankfully, Irial is polite enough not to mention her changing color.