His breath hitched, like he’d felt all the words I’d kept trapped inside my fingers, and slowly he pulled back to look at me.

Three stuttering heartbeats. Four. Five. His eyebrows were drawn in, his lips parted with a question he couldn’t speak.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “They’re just dreams. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He took my hands in his and tucked our tangled fingers beneath his chin. His pulse thumped against my knuckles. One, two, three . . . He studied me, like he could see all the ways those dreams of stars and flight and ancient past were tugging me forward.

But that was all. After a moment of looking at me—looking for the first time in days—he just leaned back on the sofa and pulled me with him.

I rested my cheek against his chest and didn’t mind that our position was a little uncomfortable. He wanted me nearby. That was enough.

And then the dreams came again.

THE DRAKONTOS CELESTUS

AFTER THE GREAT GOD OF SILENCE ROSE, THE OCEAN dipped and swelled, rushing outward to flee such wrath. But a knot of stillness hung in the tormented waters nearby, shadowed by great wings and an angry god. In a space where everything was chaos and movement, this quiet was out of place.

Closer inspection revealed a dozen small humans in tiny boats, hands clasped fast around one another’s. None of them spoke aloud, but their fingers tapped and tapped around their circle, relaying information and passing on encouragement.

They were so little. So determined. They were a testament to humans’ desire to survive against all odds.

Higher up again, they became mere specks of life on a vast ocean of chaos, notable only for their stillness and silence.

So strange.

CHAPTER FIVE

DRAGONS, AS IT TURNED OUT, WERE NOT VERY GOOD at doing nothing.

In the morning, while we waited for Tanhe to get back to us, Altan got the bath he’d been promised, and then the others went out to listen for gossip about the summit, the explosions, or anything else that might affect our plan.

That left me with the dragons.

They hadn’t been able to do much flying over the last few days, since we didn’t need anyone wondering why two small dragons kept going in and out our window. So LaLa and Crystal were restless, and over the course of the morning, I had to stop them from chewing on the curtains, lighting fire to the chairs, and stealing noorestones to add to their nest.

Zara was just as bad. She roamed the suite, restlessly moving objects just out of place, like she was a particularly bored cat. She tilted a painting, nudged a vase off center, and left cabinet doors ajar.

Aaru, at least, was easier to manage. When we awakened this morning, I was still pressed against his chest and our fingers were laced, but it almost seemed his heart beat a new rhythm. He stood at the window now, curtains parted just enough to allow him to look outside. For a little while, I stood with him, watching people bustle about, shouting and waving, darting through the busy market nearby.