Stormdance Extended Preview

THE DRAGON SINGER CHRONICLES | BOOK 2
MICHELLE M. BRUHN

FARREN’S SONG
I will tell youa tale
Of our tragic Bria fair.
Of empathy she never chose
That filledher mindwithdragons’ woes,
Andhowit didensnare.
Of her stubbornness andpride.
For none she toldof hurt andpain.
Alone she fought the dragons’ reign
Her heart against her mind.
Of our stolen Bria fair.
For dragons took her for her song,
Abrokenmindto make theirs strong,
Death nowher only prayer.
I will tell youa tale.
Will youheedmy tale?
Of a secondSinger’s plight.
Thoughtaughttofearandtaughttohide
Her dragonempathy inside,
Allara’s flame grewbright.
Of howdragons stole her still.
But though they sought her lyrics’ aid,
Withlullaby she took her blade
Andprovedher greater will.
Of Allara’s fearful flight.
For slayers feared her power too strong
Andsought to endher dragon song
Anddouse her family’s light.
Of your daughter, sister, wife.
For Maker knows who else will find
The dragons’ pain inside her mind
Andsongs that come to life.
I will tell youa tale,
But youdecide its end.
For Bria stood and fell alone,
Allara drivenfromher home.
Onyouthey nowdepend.

STORMDANCE
1
PROLOGUE
Farren didn’t breathe as the final notes from his lute faded, leaving only the
crackling percussion of the campfire. No applause came from the clan tonight,
no acknowledgement of the words and melody he had woven tirelessly for the
past three days. They knew what he had done and whose wrath it would incur.
His eyes met his chief’s. Throughout the song, Karn’s expression had
betrayed all his emotions. First the bitter sadness that had lingered since his last
battle. Since Alísa had been stolen again before his eyes.
Next came shock, the kind Farren himself would have felt if, upon entering
his tent, he found that someone had used his lute and then left it lying on the
ground outside its case.
Then anger, walking the line between indignation and outrage. Karn’s face
turned the color of his copper hair and his clenched fists pressed against his kilt’s
red and brown plaid. A younger man might cower, but Farren had earned too
many gray hairs at Karn’s side to fear him anymore. Only Karn’s own clan,
people to whom the secret of the Dragon Singers had already been revealed, had
heard this song. Farren had revealed nothing new, but by presenting the tales in
song he declared his intentions to bring such secrets into the light for many,
many others.
Karn stood and spoke in a quiet growl. “Leave us.”
Threat of dragon-fire could not have made the clan move more quickly.
Hanah stayed at Karn’s side, sadness lingering in her silvery-blue eyes. The
Lady of the clan stood tall with her auburn hair falling in loose waves over her
shoulders, unbraided since the day she learned her daughter’s fate. Her quiet
way of mourning for her stolen daughter while remaining strong before the
clan. Farren’s heart ached at the thought of Alísa caught in the talons of the

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dragons, falling subject to evil’s will.
Maker, save her.
Only one other person dared to stay in the chief’s presence. Karn’s
apprentice, Alísa’s intended, and Farren’s co-conspirator, Kallar sat unmoving
as the stone mountains surrounding this valley. Farren knew better. He had seen
the fire in the young man’s heart, and he silently prayed Kallar’s fervor would
help and not hinder as they convinced Karn of their plan.
“What was that?” Karn’s voice was hot water just before boiling.
“That is Alísa’s only chance.”
Karn’s arm sliced through the air as he stalked toward Farren. “Don’t you
dare claim you know how to save her—as though sharing these stories will do
anything more than paint a target on her back!”
Farren kept his voice low and calm. “Ignorance and fear are the first steps
toward hatred. By—”
“And what of Allara’s first clan, when they were brought out of the dark?
They tried to kill her! The only way to save Alísa is for us to find her. Spreading
the secrets of the chiefs will only accomplish mass panic.”
“How do you intend to find her first?” Farren spread his hands, indicating
the surrounding mountains. “Will you search every mountain in a month?
Storm every cave? Would even a year be enough time?”
“Don’t presume to know what I can and cannot do—”
“Karn.” Hanah, ever the reasonable one, placed a hand on the chief’s arm.
“My love, Farren’s counsel has never led you astray. Let him speak.”
Karn’s chest heaved with every breath. One. Two. Three.
“Go on.”
Farren nodded to chief and lady. “I do not wish to cause you pain, but I’ve
lived among slayers long enough to understand the evil Alísa faces. How much
time does she have? You need every person in Arran to be our eyes if we are to
find her.”
Karn shook his head, defeat in his voice. “Generations of chiefs have kept
the secret of the Dragon Singers. I cannot go against their wisdom.”
“Yes. You can.” Kallar accused as he stood. His ice-blue eyes gleamed in the
firelight, and his half-long, half-shorn hair proclaimed the warrior he never
ceased to be. “You just won’t. I knew you wouldn’t, which is why I went to Farren
first.”

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Karn’s eyes widened. “You? You’re behind this treachery?”
“If contradicting the ‘wisdom’ of men long dead is treachery—yes. What
wisdom is there in keeping people in the dark?”
“To protect the innocent and keep order. There are others whose empathy
is broken, who feel dragon emotions against their wills, yet are not Singers. If
everyone knew dragon empathy was a warning sign, these innocent slayers
would be in danger, as would the children of Allara and any other Singer who
might fight for our side in the future. Would you risk so many for one?” Karn’s
voice barely whispered past his throat. “Even one so dearly loved?”
“Yes.”
“Then I have taught you nothing! A chief cannot risk so much, even for
their child. I—”
Karn’s broad shoulders shuddered as emotion cut off his words. He bowed
his head and covered his face with a hand, sitting back down on the log. Hanah
went with him, taking his hand as the great chief wept.
Maker above. In all their years together, Farren had never seen Karn weep.
Not even when Alísa was first stolen, nor when he came down the mountain
after failing to save her. Even Kallar seemed stunned.
“Generations—” Karn breathed out, his voice slow and halting.
“Generations of chiefs have decided how best to protect those under their care.
Who am I to say otherwise? My heart yearns to do what you say, as though it is
the rightest thing in the world. But the heart so easily deceives. Among so many
who say it must be one way, how could I possibly be the one who is right?”
Hanah’s arm slid from Karn’s back as she faced him. “Fear, too, deceives.
Perhaps it deceived all the chiefs who decided Bria’s fate and which secrets they
would keep.”
She looked to Farren and Kallar, her chin lifted with command. “It is rare
that wise counsel and brash action walk hand-in-hand. Surely you do not come
simply with a heart’s desire, but with truth and logic to sway the mind of a
chief?”
Farren stepped closer to Karn, taking control before Kallar jumped in with
blunt words.
“Karn, I believe the chiefs of Bria’s day were wrong. This should never have
been a secret. If I had known Dragon Singers existed, I could have told you long
ago that Alísa was one.”

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Wide eyes turned on Farren, and he nodded. “Alísa’s voice has always been
especially moving. Once I even thought I saw an image in my head as she sang.
I pushed it away as my overactive imagination rather than recognizing it as a
sign. If people like me knew, we could help them at an earlier age. Train them
to use or suppress their power so they aren’t left to the mercy of the dragons.”
Karn opened his mouth, and Farren rushed to answer his unspoken
protest. “Yes, this knowledge could put them in danger from humankind as well,
but that is why the song is so important. The words I’ve woven encourage
understanding and support. Not all will listen, but many will.”
“I agree,” Hanah said. “Your tale gave even Bria grace. Though I fail to see
how this helps Alísa now.”
Kallar huffed and looked at Farren. “I told you to use the full song.”
Farren inclined his head to chief and lady. “There are indeed two more
stanzas. I thought it best that you hear it privately first, rather than cause you
sorrow before the clan.”
Farren raised his lute and lifted his voice once more.
I will tell you a tale
Of a final captured soul.
By tooth and claw, by scaled wing,
The dragons bid Alísa sing
To bring about their goal.
But you decide its end.
To bring her home and save her soul
Her father’s clan must play their role,
To Karn your hand extend.
Karn studied the ground as Farren lowered his instrument. As he had
suspected, hearing Alísa’s name and plight in song form affected the chief
greatly. Now to convince him of the necessity of these stanzas.
“Such words may bring you shame among the clans, but they will make
your plea clear. If others heed the song and learn of Alísa’s whereabouts,
messengers will be sent to you.”

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5
Karn met Farren’s eyes, determination rising. “Shame does not concern
me—only Alísa’s rescue and the good of our world.” He looked to Kallar. “You
understand the consequences?”
Kallar nodded firmly, his jaw set. Something passed between chief and
apprentice that Farren couldn’t begin to guess, but the steadiness in Kallar’s
eyes made him understand how the young man could call his elders to follow
him into caves rank with dragons’ breath.
Karn stood and placed a heavy hand on Farren’s shoulder. “You have
convinced me. We will stop at every village on the way to Parrin, and you will
tell the tales. Parrin is a major trading post—there will be many messengers and
bards passing through who will carry the song on their way.” His eyes hardened.
“And every slayer chief who objects will answer to me.”
The great chief released Farren’s shoulder and marched back into camp.
Hanah watched him go before rising herself, the grace of her movements
betraying none of her sorrow. Striding to Farren, she wrapped her arms around
him briefly, whispering her thanks.
Then she turned to Kallar. A moment of silent regard passed between
them before she grabbed the apprentice and pulled him into a tight embrace.
Kallar looked supremely uncomfortable, like he half-expected her to pull a knife
from her skirts and stab him in the back. Just as suddenly, Hanah released him
and walked after her husband into the cluster of worn leather tents.
Kallar watched her leave, his brow smoothing as though a great burden
had been lifted from him. It lasted only a moment before Kallar’s eyes hardened
again and settled on Farren.
“The last line of the second stanza still doesn’t rhyme.”
Farren raised an eyebrow. “Do I tell you how to wield your sword?”
Kallar grunted. “I expected more from a professional songweaver.”
“Art is never perfected, young slayer, merely set free.”
Farren aimed for his tent, the chill of evening beginning to settle in his
bones. Kallar took long strides to match his pace.
“You also focused only on women,” the slayer said. “I told you, we don’t
know that men can’t be Dragon Singers, too.”
Farren inclined his head. “Granted. But so far, the pattern holds true, and
something within a man of honor feels especially called to protect the women
in his life. We want them moved to action, so that is where I laid my focus.”

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“That’s” —Kallar paused, his eyebrows lifting as though impressed—
“kind of manipulative.”
Farren tsked and shook a rebuking finger. “I prefer ‘perceptive’.
‘Perspicacious’, even.”
“Whatever.”
“Words have power, Kallar. You would do well to remember that and
choose yours more wisely.”
Kallar snorted, angling toward his tent. “Good night, Songweaver.”
Farren chuckled through his own goodbye, wondering at the odd
partnership that had grown between them. He glanced up as a sprinkling of stars
shimmered through a break in the cloud-cover, and shivered under their gaze.
He had found Alísa bundled up on an evening much like this, pack over
her shoulder and determination in her eyes. There had been a sense of peace in
his heart about her leaving—a peace he had always associated with the Maker’s
will. But now Alísa was left alone in the talons of the enemy. How could he have
been so wrong?
But the plan to convince Karn had worked. Now Farren begged the Maker
and any Eldra who might listen that the song would bring them word of Alísa
before her mind was too turned by the dragons to save—and before slayers
came upon her and ended her misery with violence rather than care.

STORMDANCE
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1
REMEMBRANCE
The bright emerald green of Laen’s mane did little to mark her place among the
trees of the forest. Already, Alísa and her companions had lost the little drek
thrice. Graydonn’s telepathic tracking skills helped them keep up, but the
dragon had his own troubles weaving through the trunks. His taloned paws
crunched ferns and fallen leaves and sent up scents of long-dried earth. Alísa
rested a hand on his grass-green scales and kept her eyes in the boughs.
Selene’s cloud-like voice lifted from behind them. “Laen, you’re still going
too fast.”
“Maybe if she stayed solid while she led us,” Sesína grumbled in all their
minds, “instead of taunting us with her dreki phasing short-cuts.”
Alísa smirked, looking back at the ebony dragoness. Sesína’s emerald eyes
met Alísa’s, then rolled in a very human fashion. “I’m just saying.”
Falier and Selene walked on either side of Sesína—the brother and sister
duo from the Hold in Me’ran, and the first human friends Alísa had made in her
new life in the eastern forests. Falier caught Alísa’s eye and smiled at her. Alísa
smiled back, trying not to grin like a fool. It had only been three days since he
had asked to pursue her—she had to keep some dignity.
Falier had taken a day back at the Hold with his family to clean up from
their adventure into dragons’ caves, his jerkin fresh and crisp and his short
brown curls and sun-tanned skin free of the mud and blood of battle. He had
also shaved, much to Alísa’s dismay. Maybe he would let his facial hair grow if
she asked him, but that seemed an inappropriate request this early in their
relationship.
On the other side of Sesína, Selene cupped her hands to her mouth and
called for Laen again, effortlessly winding her blue-plaid skirt through the brush

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and brambles. Unlike Alísa, who had to pull her own skirt close. Everything
about the short, blonde woman radiated grace and confidence.
Maybe one day I’ll have that too. Knowing me, it will take much longer than
Selene’s twenty-one years.
Sesína snorted, hearing Alísa’s thoughts through their mother-daughter
Illumination bond—though, truly, it had become more a sisterly bond as the
young dragoness grew.
“You’re a leader of dragons now, Alísa,” Sesína whispered through the bond.
“You can’t be without some confidence.”
Alísa’s boot caught on the forest floor and she stumbled, steadying herself
on Graydonn’s back.
Sesína cough-laughed. “Grace, on the other hand…”
Alísa didn’t dare look back as her cheeks flushed red. Falier had to have
noticed. So much for dignity.
“There.” Graydonn pointed his snout to the right.
Sure enough, Laen sat on an oak branch a few trees away, watching them.
The drek’s silvery body shimmered even in the shade of the trees, the emerald-
green mane running the length of her spine waving in the morning breeze like
the grasses of the hill country.
“Slow!” Laen barked her annoyance.
Sesína growled. “Take to the skies and I’ll show you slow!”
Laen unfurled her wings and growled back, telepathically sending the
group a picture instead of a word—a much smaller Sesína with a piece of ebony
eggshell stuck on top of her head, as though she had just hatched. Alísa laughed
at the admonishment.
Sesína hummed with annoyance. “Whose side are you on?”
“Laen,” Selene chided, hands on her hips. “We’re counting on you to show
us to your home. You can’t keep leaving us behind.”
The little drek’s wings drooped as she let out a loud breath. Then she
straightened and hopped to a pine branch, making an obvious show of looking
back to make sure they followed.
“Bit of a firebrand, isn’t she?” Falier said. Alísa looked just in time to see
him give Sesína a light shove. “Don’t have any of those in our little group yet.”
Sesína flicked her tail in annoyance. “That little twerp and I are nothing alike.
I miss Chrí.”

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A lump settled in Alísa’s throat. Chrí.
Sesína’s eyes dimmed and she hurried forward to nose Alísa’s arm. “I’m
sorry.”
“We all miss her,” Graydonn said solemnly. “It will be good to remember her
with her family today.”
Alísa sniffed and nodded, lifting her eyes to latch onto Laen again. None of
them had visited the home of the dreki before. Possibly, no human had ever seen
it, and the strained relationship between dragons and dreki made Alísa certain
no dragon had either. At least, no dragon who lived to tell the tale. The dreki
were a secretive people, supremely loyal to their friends and even more
dangerous to their enemies.
Now, though, certain members of each race had united under a common
purpose—the ending of the dragon-human war. A lofty goal, to be sure, yet they
had made great strides already. Alísa and her dragon clan’s victory over Rorenth
had proven their willingness to lay their lives on the line for humans. Now she
needed to find slayers willing to do the same for dragons.
Memories of her father rose in her mind. His desire to free her, and his
refusal to listen when she told him her dragon clan was good. She’d had to fight
him to get her dragons to safety. Her greatest failure.
“I was so proud of your flow of thoughts until you let that moment cloud it,”
Sesína said. “You’ve accomplished much—remember that and let it be.”
“Let it be? He’s my father!”
Guilt painted Sesína’s emotions. “Poor choice of words. I only meant that you
shouldn’t let someone’s unwillingness to listen mark you a failure.”
Alísa shook her head. “His clan is my family, and their lives are built on a lie
that has them killing you, my other family. And I couldn’t get them to stop.”
“Namor stopped.”
The old slayer rose in Alísa’s mind—watchful, battle-scarred, and
stubborn. He had fought dragons all his life, whether as a mountain-storming
wayfarer or as village-bound protector. He had nearly mind-choked Graydonn
from the sky the first time he saw the dragon, but after seeing Alísa and her
dragons defend the village, Namor had listened.
Still, he was only one slayer, and the other slayer of the village, Yarlan, had
seen it all and remained antagonistic. She needed to convince many more
slayers to have any chance of ending the war. Tonight’s presentation to Me’ran

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would be the first big step—gain the confidence of normals, then use their
testimony to bring her peacefully before slayers. There had been enough
bloodshed already.
Laen chirped and trilled excitedly ahead of them, tickling the surrounding
leaves with her outstretched wings.
“Here!”
A wall of trees rose up before them, the undergrowth between them thick
with brush and bramble. Laen gave another trill and dove between two of the
trees, leaving them to find their own path through. None stood out—
unwelcoming, to say the least.
“Allow me,” Graydonn said, padding forward. He studied the blockage, then
plunged a wing into the tangled mess. With a small grunt of effort, he pulled
back the brush and gave Alísa a respectful slow blink.
Alísa smiled at the dragon, ducking through the makeshift entrance, and
gasped with delight. Lush green surrounded her, deep with life. Flowers of every
color graced the forest floor, the tree trunk wall, and the branches above her
head, some drooping to kiss the ground on delicate vines. A small creek ran
through the space, sparkling where the morning sunlight peeked through the
boughs. And amidst the splendor, dreki—at least sixty of them, jewel-tone
manes bright against silvery bodies.
“Oh, wow.” Falier stood beside her, their shoulders almost touching.
“It’s…”
His voice trailed off as awe rippled from him, echoed by the others as they
entered the glade. The emotion felt like another kind of flower, opening up to
bask in sunlight it could never hope to take in fully.
“Beautiful,” Alísa whispered, finishing his sentence.
Falier looked down at her, his eyes softening as he reached for her hand.
Alísa gave it, expecting him to use the skin-contact to aid his telepathy, as he
typically did. This time, however, he merely slipped his fingers between hers
and looked back out at the wonders of the dreki’s home. A rush ran through
Alísa, warmth rising in her chest.
A flash of emerald whisked past and settled on Selene’s shoulder. “Home,”
Laen chirped.
Out of the group, Selene looked the most overcome. She stayed completely
still, only her eyes moving slowly over the scene.

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Falier studied his sister. “You all right?”
Selene reached up to stroke Laen’s mane. “It’s a lot, but I’ll be okay. The
dreki are talking to each other.”
Memory stirred within Alísa. Not only did Selene see what everyone else
did, she also saw sound-lights and telepathy lines. While the space brought
warmth and peace to Alísa, it must be over-stimulating for Selene.
Selene caught her staring and met Alísa’s eyes. She gave a half-smile, her
gaze flitting to Alísa and Falier’s clasped hands before returning to the dreki and
their home. Selene seemed happy enough with Alísa and Falier’s relationship.
Falier’s parents, on the other hand… Both were amiable and outwardly
supportive of Falier’s choice, but Kat seemed to have reservations and Parsen
was, as always, hard for Alísa to read. Hopefully, she could prove herself worthy
in their eyes.
“Singer!”
Alísa whipped her head around to see five dreki in front of her. They
turned flips and spun around each other, much like they did at Me’ran’s céilí
dances.
“Singer!” “Singer!” “Singer!”
Alísa smiled, letting go of Falier’s hand to clasp her hands in front of her.
“Thank you f—for your welcome. Your home is b—beautiful.”
An image of the center of the glade slipped into Alísa’s mind. “Come.”
With a glance that called the others to follow, Alísa heeded their invitation.
A few more joyful dreki joined them as they walked, while others stopped to
stare at them with eerily-glowing eyes.
A drek with a blue mane swooped past Alísa and landed on Falier’s
shoulder.
“Drum?”
Falier gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Ska, I didn’t think to bring it.”
Ska’s head and wings drooped as he let out a little sigh, then he leapt into
the air to rejoin the rest of the dreki.
“You know,” Falier called after him, smirking, “it’s times like this I think
you just tolerate me because you like the bodhrán.”
Another image wafted into the minds of the group, one of them sitting on
the ground. Alísa lowered to her knees, careful not to sit on too many flowers,
though it was impossible not to crush a few. Falier sat beside her with Selene on

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his other side, while Sesína and Graydonn lowered to their bellies behind them.
As they settled, the dreki began congregating near them, hovering a few
feet above the ground. Now that they were closer, Alísa noticed a few very small
dreki, perhaps small enough to land on the palm of her hand. Adolescents. Their
flight was less stable than the adults, more of a flutter than a hover, and their
manes were a dusting of color along their spines rather than the flowing locks
of the older dreki.
“In front of you, Alísa,” Sesína said.
Alísa pulled her eyes from the curiosity of the adolescents and gave a little
gasp. Laen hovered before her, accompanied by a drek with a ruby mane and
wing-baubles. Chrí had shown Alísa a picture of her mate before she died, and
a pull deep inside her recognized this as him.
Her heart pounded. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know his
name.
“Singer,” the little male voice came, accompanied by a picture of bright red
bird feathers and his name.
“Rann,” she whispered. “I am so sorry for your loss.”
Rann gave her a picture of Chrí nestled amidst Alísa’s mahogany curls and
nuzzling her cheek. The image was so real—the light pull on Alísa’s hair, the
smoothness of Chrí’s muzzle, the soft sound of her breathing, and a deep love
that filled Alísa’s empathic senses. It was all so life-like it would live forever in
her memories of her friend. The beauty of this gift from Rann sent a tear sliding
down her cheek.
“Thank you.”
The tiniest squeak drew Alísa’s eyes from Rann’s face to a little silver lump
clinging to his mane. Her heart squeezed.
“Is that—”
Pride emanated from the drek. He looked to Laen, drawing Alísa’s
attention to a second silvery lump on her back, this one with shining purple eyes.
The image Chrí had given her just before she died had two tiny eggs, one red
like the father, one a lavender purple like the mother.
Rann sent an image of the two babies snuggled in Alísa’s hands,
accompanied by the feeling of a question.
Alísa grinned, lifting cupped hands. “Yes! Of course.”
Rann landed on Alísa’s lap—a gentle weight, perhaps only eight pounds—

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and nosed his passenger into her open hand. The little one squeaked and
opened eyes a shade lighter than Rann’s. Rann hopped onto Alísa’s shoulder,
giving Laen room to deposit the purple-eyed baby beside its sibling.
In Alísa’s hands, the babies seemed even smaller, the two of them fitting
perfectly in her palms. They curled together, tiny wings stretching and noses
pressing into the warmth of each other. Neither had any hint of a mane, and the
baubles that graced the ends of adult dreki wings were nowhere to be found
either. The only color either drek had was its bright eyes.
Her human and dragon friends leaned in close, taking in the little lives
with her.
“They’re beautiful, Rann,” Selene said, reaching a single finger to stroke
the one with red eyes. “Have you named them?”
Rann gave a low, cooing trill. “Rís.” An image of a red dawn accompanied
the name—presumably the baby with red eyes. Then Rann pointed his muzzle
at the purple one. “Chrí.”
Alísa’s heart caught at the name, but instead of the impression of lavender
that came with the mother’s name, a picture of bluebells rose in her mind.
“They’re perfect.”
Multiple dreki trilled above Alísa’s head, drawing everyone’s attention.
Rann joined with his own trill. With one last glance at his children, he took to
the air with the rest of his kind. It was time to honor the dreki who had given
their lives.
The dreki hovered in a circle multiple dreki high, all facing the center.
They stared into the empty space, their faces solemn and their emotions a
mixture of the thickened air of grief and the deep green of peace. Then the
dreki’s eyes and wing-baubles began to glow—the sign their minds were joining
in the deep, unfathomable way of their kind.
Squeaking trills brought Alísa’s eyes back down as the baby dreki called to
their kin. They fixed their eyes on the others, eye-lights fading in and out of the
clan’s glow as though they didn’t know how to join yet.
Then the emotions hit.
Grief’s thunderclouds darkened Alísa’s mind, accented by strikes of anger,
presumably for lives snuffed out too soon. As the dreki’s minds became one,
their power grew, as did their shared feelings. Alísa’s heartbeat quickened as she
remembered the last time dreki emotions had overwhelmed her. Her body

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tensed as her mind automatically began fighting against her empathy.
A nudge at her shoulder called Alísa from her thoughts. Graydonn’s head
came into view, and sorrow salted his voice as it entered her mind.
“It’s okay, Alísa. Remember, you are stronger when you embrace your gift.”
Alísa breathed. She had already learned this, and she chided herself for
returning to old habits. With each inhale she took in the dreki’s grief, and with
each exhale she breathed out her own. Her heartbeat slowed, and though a sob
wrenched through her, her pain and fear eased.
“There,” the dragon soothed, returning his gaze to the dreki.
As the dreki’s wing-baubles glowed, sparkles of color separated from them,
little fairy lights coalescing in the center of the circle. The lights swirled around
each other, dancing in and out like the dreki often did, until the shape of a drek
with an orange mane appeared in their midst.
As one voice, the dreki said a name Alísa didn’t recognize. Then the image
faded away, only to be replaced by one of the same drek dancing in the air with
another. The image faded again while another faded in, the new one of the drek
as a youngster, snuggled between its parents.
Curious, Alísa shut her eyes and focused until the astral plane appeared.
All the beings in the grove appeared as lights against blackness, each outlined
in the color of their eyes. Beams of light shown from the dreki, almost a blinding
white flowing into the center where the images appeared in the physical realm.
A subtle change occurred as the image shifted again, a single drek’s strand
becoming brighter amidst the rays.
Alísa opened her eyes. Memories. The images were memories, each one
streaming from an individual drek and materializing in the strange sparkles as
the clan remembered their fallen kin.
Soon images of another fallen drek replaced the first, the clan cycling
through memories of those they so dearly missed. Their grief renewed with each
new honored drek, yet the dark closeness loosened its hold as memories
unfolded, giving glimpses of joy and peace.
Then came Chrí’s turn, her likeness shining with bright lavender hues and
bringing fresh tears to Alísa’s eyes. First came images of a mischievous
youngster, then the passionate defender that Alísa had known. Rann shared a
memory of bringing her some of the sweet lavenders that were part of her name,
then one of her bringing him a dead bird with red feathers like in his name. Alísa

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15
fought not to giggle at the gift that was obviously supposed to be romantic.
Finally, Rann sent an image of Chrí curled around their eggs. The baby
dreki chirped at the picture, bringing a silent sob to Alísa’s chest. They never got
to know their mother, yet they recognized her. Their grief was quiet, as if they
knew they should be sad but didn’t quite know how.
Alísa blew out a tremulous breath. Could she have done anything
differently, something that could have kept these brave dreki alive? Perhaps not
go into battle at all, but that would have been wrong, too. Then other lives would
be at stake. She had known that going into battle meant facing death to keep
others safe, and so had the dreki.
The images of Chrí vanished and another drek took her place, then
another and another, until the remembrance came to a close. The dreki ended
their mindshare, their eye- and wing-lights fading. Alísa sighed as the combined
emotions faded into individuals. Though crowds could overwhelm her
empathy, too, there was relief here.
The dreki began to disperse, sorrow, joy, and remnants of anger
diminishing as individuals flew into boughs and other spaces in the grove.
About a third of the dreki stayed nearby, many tiny glowing eyes fixing on Alísa
and her group.
Rann flew back to Alísa’s lap and nuzzled his children. The babies trilled
at him, the sounds low and soft, and he answered with trilled coos before looking
up at Alísa.
“Sing?”
She met Rann’s steady gaze for a moment, then looked up to the few dreki
remaining. All watched her with anticipation.
Only one song came to mind—one she had sung many times as her father’s
clan honored their fallen warriors. All growing up, she had known by that song
that death wasn’t the end, and that those who gave their lives willingly to protect
others were honored above all. That was Chrí. Though her children may not yet
understand the words, Alísa would make sure they knew this truth.
She exhaled, then pulled in a deep new breath, her tears renewing as she
released it in song.

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
16
Why must the good die before their time,
And flames devour their prey?
When will our mourning be made right
And smoke break for the day?
But in this world of suffering
The Maker holds us all.
His blessings follow those who stand,
Though some to home He calls.
In her mind, the voices of her father’s clan echoed the final two lines.
Though terribly wrong in their thinking about dragons, they, too, stood for those
weaker than they. So many slayers did. If she could only reach them with the
truth about dragonkind, they would surely stand for both races and not just their
own.
Alísa smiled as the remaining dreki chirped their gratitude before
fluttering away, Laen and Rann the last to leave as they coaxed Rann’s little ones
onto their backs. Though anxiety still fluttered within Alísa as she thought of
tonight’s presentation, resolve became the foundation beneath it.
Tonight, the next phase in her quest to end the war would begin.

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17
2
PRESENTATION
Excitement and nerves clashed within Alísa like the heat of the great bonfire
against the coming chill of night. Everyone had come, just as she’d hoped, but
with the eyes of every villager in Me’ran about to be fixed on her, strikes of
lightning shot from her heart to her fingertips. The very same feeling she had
before facing the teeth and talons of violent dragons. It seemed battlefields came
in many forms.
She forced her eyes away from the people and to Falier, who stood only a
few feet away. With his bodhrán drum strapped to his back, his fingers moving
in warm-up patterns, and a light in his eyes, her pursuer exuded the eagerness
she should have.
“Why did I let Falier talk me into this?”
Even across the distance to the cave, Alísa could feel Sesína’s eye-roll
through their bond. “Love apparently makes one crazy. Remind me never to fall.”
Alísa blew out her breath, then stopped as Falier noticed her stare. She
gave a smile she didn’t feel, and he grinned back, the care in his twilight eyes
sending a flip of a different kind through her stomach.
“You’re going to do great.” He spoke just loud enough for her to hear over
the buzzing chatter of the crowd. “Just like we practiced.”
Sesína sent a mental agreement as Alísa forced a nod. They had practiced.
They had spent all day yesterday crafting their tale into a form Me’ran knew and
would respond well to. A tale of heroism to convey the happenings of the last
week. A tale of dragons willing to rise up to end the war between the races. A
tale to inspire humanity to do the same.
Alísa loosened the reins of her empathy, letting it spread beyond her to
Falier and holding it there before it could catch the crowd. She latched onto his

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
18
eager excitement, letting it call her own from the depths of her mind. This wasn’t
just a nerve-wracking performance—this was the next step in her quest to unite
the races and end the war.
That thought brought a true smile to her lips. Me’ran had already accepted
her and the first dragons of her clan after they had proven their care for
humankind by defending the village. Now Me’ran would learn of the other
dragons who had risked their lives to keep violent dragons out of the eastern
forests. As everything unfolded for the people through her songs and Falier’s
storytelling, they would accept the new dragons, accept her mission, and be the
bridge between her and the slayers of nearby villages. With their support, the
slayers would have to hear the truth.
Movement drew Alísa’s eyes to the crest of the hill where a man and
woman walked together, the evening sunlight gently gracing their backs as they
joined the crowd. The people—so many people—gathered on either side of the
great bonfire on the dancing grounds. Some stood, while most sat on chairs
pulled from the Hold or on the log benches that normally surrounded the fire.
A few children sat on the ground in front.
Falier’s father, Parsen, stood with them before the crowd, his gaze fixed on
the people. Parsen stood tall and confident before them, a holder respected by
his village. He must have been taking roll in his head, for as the couple joined at
the back of the group he raised his arms for attention. The crowd stilled at his
call.
“A little over a week ago,” Parsen began, “our village suffered its first
dragon attack in many years. Through it, our world was turned upside down,
not merely by the loss of property, but also by the revelation of our rescuers—
the good dragons led by Alísa.”
As Parsen spoke, Alísa scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces. The
rest of Falier’s family stood on the far left side, the ladies easy to spot by their
blond hair catching the firelight. Kat’s eyes rested on Falier even as her husband
spoke, the corners turned down in either sadness or worry. The story of the
battle and Falier’s part in it had been hard on her yesterday. Would a second
telling be any easier?
Laen sat on Selene’s shoulder and about fifteen other dreki perched on the
roof of the Hold beyond the crowd. The rest of the dreki clan might be watching
from the forest, but no eye-lights gave them away.

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19
Namor and Tenza, a slayer couple in perhaps their mid-fifties, sat on a log
at the front of the crowd. Namor leaned against his staff, his salt-and-pepper hair
pulled back in a low ponytail, revealing eyes that were kinder now than when
he and Alísa had first met. Vigilance still lived there, but now it made Alísa feel
safe rather than guarded against.
Tenza’s graying black hair swept from her temples in a crown of two
braids, the rest cascading over her shoulders. She had a strong and quiet grace
about her, like the swordswomen of Karn’s clan. Like her husband, her almond-
shaped eyes seemed to see all.
“But their fight to protect Me’ran was not the end of the story,” Parsen
brought Alísa’s attention back to him. He neared the end of the introduction
now—time to focus. “With Falier as their ally, they left to continue the work.
Now they have returned with a tale to tell.”
With a slight nod to Falier, Parsen took his place beside Kat in the
audience. Falier stepped forward and pulled out his bodhrán, letting it sit at his
side, held up by the shoulder straps. Head held high, he seemed completely in
his element.
Alísa sent up a quick prayer to Eldra Nahne—the spiritual shepherd of
holders and songweavers—asking for help to match him, to not let him down
with the anxiety tying knots in her stomach. She breathed, focusing on the
moment, and fixed her eyes on Falier.
The young holder began a quiet, rapid roll on his bodhrán. “Friends and
family, tonight we tell you a tale of heroism. Of dastardly deeds of beasts lusting
for blood, and of dragons who rose up and said, ‘No more!’”
BUM, ba, ba, bum!
Falier hit a four-beat transition on his drum. Alísa’s cue. Picturing
Songweaver Farren—his confidence and love of storytelling—Alísa lifted her
arms. She breathed as she moved, loosening her throat muscles to allow her
words to flow. Just as they had practiced.
“Of a slayer who became dragon-friend, and the d—dragons who rose t-t-
t-to t-train him” —breathe, keep going— “though normally the b—bitterest of
foes.”
bum, bum, BA, bum!
“And of a Dragon Singer” —Falier sent Alísa a look of admiration— “who
inspired them all.”

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
20
ba, ba, BUM!
Falier backed toward the fire, drumming the beat of the song she planned
to sing. She smiled lightly, thinking once more of Farren. She had written this
song in a style he created, changing the rhyming scheme a little to add her own
flair. Perhaps, one day, she would get to sing it for him, too.
Of a journey through the night.
Of peaceful ones who rose to fight,
Of battle looming, testing might,
And how they might prevail.
I will tell you a tale.
Will you hear my tale?
As though part of the drama themselves, the dreki rose from their perches
and flew to Alísa. Their wing-baubles caught the firelight, flashing color around
her as their joy flashed over her mind. She latched onto their happiness, letting
it chase away the last vestiges of her nerves and relax her stiff muscles. Farren
would swell with pride if he could see her now.
Of a dragoness so strong,
Who waited all her life for song,
Of hope through others proving wrong,
And now she would not fail.
Of a dragon young, but wise,
Who saw through more than amber eyes,
Rose up and bid a slayer rise,
Whose heart has pierced the veil.

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Of a dragoness so brave,
Whose eyes are toward the weak to save,
Of heart and soul and flesh she gave
Unto a Singer frail.
Of a fallen enemy.
A clan has risen, setting free
Man from fear’s captivity
So peace can now prevail.
Falier rolled on the bodhrán as her song ended, bridging the music to the
storytelling. Dreki whisked back to their spots as Alísa allowed Falier to take the
foreground. He told the tale in much the same style as a traveling bard,
embellishing the story with hyperbole, dynamic contrasts, and beats and rolls
on his drum.
He told of the bloodlust of Rorenth, the alpha dragon strengthened by a
dark bond to the Nameless Ones. Of how Rorenth had sent scouts to raze
villages in the eastern forests to the ground, and that to defeat him and protect
the people, the Dragon Singer needed the aid of more dragons. He facetiously
told of his great fear riding a dragon for the first time, then spoke of the mighty
Graydonn who would not let him fall. He told of Sesína’s aerial acrobatics and
hunting prowess that kept her human companions alive on the journey. And he
told of the unwavering belief of Koriana, who led them through dangerous
territories and became their emissary to Tsamen’s dragon clan, where they all
hoped for more dragons to join the fight.
The sun dipped below the trees as the story entered Tsamen’s cave, adding
an eerie ambiance to the tale. As Alísa waited for her next singing cue, she let
her empathy flow out a little further and tasted the feelings of the crowd. Fear

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
22
came first, though its strength was what one might expect from those hearing a
scary story. Awe and wonder followed behind fear—a good sign.
When Falier’s voice rose like the din of the dragons debating in Tsamen’s
cave, Alísa pulled her focus from her empathy back to his story. Her next cue
was fast approaching.
“The dragons argued with voice and mind, some for the Dragon Singer,
some against. The surly alpha female, Paili, rose above them all, ready to make
an end of the Singer and her clan. But then, like sun breaking through the
clouds, the Maker granted a new song—a song of warning that froze every
dragon in their spot.”
Pulling from her memories, Alísa sang the admonition she had received.
She prayed it would stir the people here as well. The slayers of the other villages
and the eastern wayfarers would never listen to a seventeen-year-old girl who
claimed she knew the hearts of dragons. Warriors would need the testimony of
these people, who had witnessed her dragons’ bravery both firsthand and
through this tale, if they were going to hear her.
Who will seek wisdom in an age of violence?
Only the quiet, who stand by nothing else.
Who will listen to the quiet in a time of chaos?
Only the ones who tire of the noise.
Who will stand with the weak through the storms?
Only the ones who too are affected.
None will listen. None will stand. None will seek the truth,
Until fire meets fire, and sword meets sword,
Until man gives life for dragon,
And dragon gives life for man.
Woe to the ones who will not stand!
At the end of the song, Falier took over again. He told of the dragons who
left Tsamen and Paili’s clan to follow the Dragon Singer. Then came the
message of the dreki, who told of Karn’s march on Rorenth’s mountain, and
Alísa’s desperate decision to join the fight in hopes of splitting Rorenth’s
attention in two. Falier told of daring feats by each of the dragons in the battle,
painting each as a hero in their own right. Tears sprang to Alísa’s eyes as he

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spoke of Sareth’s sacrifice to shield her from Rorenth’s wrath, and of the dreki
who, with Falier and Graydonn, dealt the final blow at great cost.
“And so we stand before you today, with the very same dragons watching
over us from Twi-Peak, recovering from their wounds so they can continue the
fight for peace. But peace cannot be won by only a small clan of dragons and a
couple of young slayers, no matter how incredible one of them might be.” Falier
shot Alísa a smile that made her blush. “And so we appeal to you. Take
inspiration from the self-sacrifice of the dragons and their Dragon Singer and
help us pave the path to peace.”
Alísa breathed low and deep. She had been able to avoid speaking for most
of this presentation, but as the leader of this movement, it fell to her to make the
appeal.
“It has always been m—my hope to bring slayers into this c-c-clan as well.
To p-p-present a united front and p-prove humans and dragons can live and
work together in p-peace. I do not ask those who are not w—warriors to become
so, but you, the p-p-p-p” —breathe— “the people they protect, have great
influence.”
The image of her father rose in Alísa’s mind, of the shock on his face when
he found her among dragons at the end of the battle. The pain of that encounter,
when she had appealed to him and failed to gain his ear, was still too raw to
expose to Me’ran—but the one thing she could convey from it was her need for
others to stand with her. She needed the people. No slayer would hear her
otherwise.
“I ask you to help us make ourselves known to the slayers of your
neighboring v—villages. T-tell them what you know to be t-true so we can give
them a chance t-t-to turn and join us in seeking p-p-peace between our kinds.
The fighting will end, and the races will live in harmony, as they did in the time
of Belinor and the founding of our c-c-country. And songs will be sung of the
brave people of Me’ran, with whom it all started.”
A silent pause, the end of the presentation, and relief swept over Alísa. It
was over—she had done it!
A cheer came up from a few in the crowd, as did a smattering of applause,
but the sounds were awkward and silenced quickly when the rest in the crowd
did not join in. Anxiety swam in Alísa’s belly. She had stopped reading the
crowd as she sang and spoke. She reached out with her empathy again.

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
24
Fear.
Shock.
Wonder.
Anger.
“‘Give the slayers a chance to turn’?”
Alísa tensed at the venom-laced tone, her heart skipping a beat as the
crowd parted for Yarlan to step to the front, warrior braids in his sandy hair and
a sword at his hip. A slayer through and through, and one who had been
antagonistic even after witnessing Sesína and the others save the village from
Rorenth’s scouts. His hate-filled eyes fixed on her, and it was all Alísa could do
to not shrink back.

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3
COMPROMISE
“By my people’s stunned silence,” Yarlan growled, “I can only hope they, too,
know what this means. If the slayers—our protectors—do not turn, this dragon
in human skin intends to destroy them! Just as she did the dragons who wouldn’t
follow her.”
Alísa’s heart raced as the silence of the crowd turned to angry mutterings
and fearful murmurs. A few parents pulled their children from the front row.
Falier came to her side, bodhrán slung against his back and brow creased in a
mixture of confusion and anger.
No, no, no! This isn’t what’s supposed to happen!
Sesína’s alarm shot through their bond. “Are you in danger? I’m coming!”
“No! Stay away. Seeing a dragon might antagonize Yarlan more.”
“Singer.” Laen’s voice entered Alísa’s mind as the drek flew from Selene’s
shoulder to hers. The drek stared down Yarlan as the rest of the dreki flew to the
trees behind Alísa. Their agitated chittering clashed against the crowd’s fear.
Alísa pulled her empathy back, holding it as close to herself as she could to avoid
being overwhelmed by the negative emotions.
“Silence!” Namor’s voice carried over the crowd, quieting them. He leaned
on his wife as they made their way up front, the missing lower half of his leg
painfully obvious. “Yarlan has made his accusation. We must allow Alísa the
chance to respond.”
Namor’s eyes softened as he nodded her forward.
Alísa breathed out, the respectful silence of the crowd relaxing the tension
inside her. She steeled herself, bringing a picture of her father to the forefront
of her mind. His strength, his courage, his words—all things she needed now.
Unbidden, she found Kallar in the image too, standing beside Karn in her

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
26
stead.
She swallowed and shook the thought away. Eldra Branni, give me strength.
“I and my clan desire p-p-peace, not violence. We wish to bring the t-t-
truth to the slayers in a way they’ll understand. We will give them every chance
to turn, just as we did the d—dragons. But if they w—will not stop k-k-k-killing
innocent dragons, we must s—s—stop them.”
“‘Kill’,” Yarlan growled, looming over her. “The word she won’t say is
‘kill’.”
Alísa fought not to step back, taking strength from Falier tensing up tall
and Laen hissing from her shoulder. Fear and fire rose within her, battling for
control. Yarlan’s words spewed poison over the people, taking the need for
justice she presented and turning it to malice.
“Now she has dragons—many dragons—waiting in Twi-Peak for her
command, and she asks us to march her to the homes of our friends and allies.
Can we allow her to murder them?”
Many eyes fixed on Alísa, some waiting, some condemning. She lifted a
hand to her chest, where her dragon-scale necklace hid underneath her shirt,
and stared past the eyes to the wall of the Hold.
“I’m not t-t-t-t-t-talking about m—m—m—”
“She never said anything about murder, Yarlan,” a male voice in the crowd
interrupted.
Though the man spoke in her favor, Alísa’s cheeks heated with shame.
What kind of leader couldn’t finish a sentence?
“Surely if our friends in Soren hear of this they’ll understand.”
“And if they don’t,” a woman near him said, “it’s all right to just kill them?
Because they disagree?”
The man was silent for a moment, and when his voice returned it held less
confidence. “If what she and Falier say is true, the killing of innocent dragons is
just as bad as them burning down a village.”
“And what about this village?” Yarlan said, wresting back control.
“Whether this girl is held in their thrall or actually on their side—”
“There is no thrall,” Namor said, his voice once again bringing the others
to silence. What Alísa wouldn’t give for that ability. “Above all else, I am sure of
that. Her mind is free and her heart is pure.”
“Be that as it may” —Yarlan turned back to the crowd— “can we trust that

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dragons—humanity’s enemy for hundreds of blood-filled years—have similarly
pure hearts? They are mere minutes’ flight from our homes, our livelihoods, our
children. Would you risk these?”
Alísa had to say something—to insist on her dragons’ goodness, to remind
the people of the lives lost and the wounds taken on behalf of Me’ran and many
other human lives. But the eyes of the people crowded in on her. She could feel
her stammer rising up, ready to claim her words again like a highwayman
preying on the weak.
No voice.
Falier must have recognized her struggle, because he stepped up, swiping
his hand through the air. “Yarlan, enough of this! I’ve lived among these
dragons, seen them risk everything for humankind—for us. Everything Alísa
said is true!”
Yarlan tilted his head condescendingly. “Oh, it’s your turn, is it? I wonder
what the people have to say about your testimony, secret-keeper.”
“You knew about the dragons long before we did and never warned us of
the dangers,” a woman said. “We might have been able to call for Chief Segenn
and his wayfarers and had help when we were attacked.”
Cold rushed through Alísa at the mention of the eastern wayfarers. If they
had been here, she wouldn’t have been able to stop them from killing Koriana,
Graydonn, and Sesína right alongside the attacking dragons.
“Not to mention the secret of your telepathy,” a man said. “How can we
trust you when you wouldn’t trust us?”
Falier looked as though he had been slapped. Where fear and indecision
had kept them silent about Alísa and the dragons, they were far quicker to speak
against him.
“I—”
“He kept the secret at our command,” Parsen growled. “If you have
something to say about it—”
“It doesn’t matter who kept the secret.” Yarlan pointed a finger at Falier.
“There’s a reason slayers take young telepaths away from villages. An untrained
telepath is dangerous—unable to control himself. How many times has he
unwittingly seen your thoughts?”
Anger coursed through Alísa. These people had known Falier his whole
life—how could they so easily forget the goodness she knew from only a few

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
28
months? She wanted to take his hand in support, but held back for fear of
sending the empathic feelings into him.
“I was trained,” Falier said, desperation in his eyes as he looked over the
murmuring people. “I was taught how to put up a wall to protect others from
just such accidents.”
Yarlan’s eyes widened and shot to Namor. “You? You knew about this?”
“I certainly did not. Though it makes sense he had a wall, since you and I
never sensed him.” Namor raised a brow. “Who taught you, Falier?”
Falier glanced over the crowd, then cast his eyes down. “I can’t tell you.”
This made the crowd fidgety. Voices raised again as they speculated about
another hidden telepath in their midst.
Yarlan rounded on Falier. “Once again you hide information your people
need to be safe! Who trained you?”
“Do not blame the boy.” A female voice rose strong above the crowd. Serra
stepped out from among them, her olive skin glowing in the firelight. “He was,
after all, only a boy at the time.”
Falier tensed, apparently unsure what to think of her coming forward.
Alísa had only met her once. Serra had met Koriana, Graydonn, and Sesína with
great caution after they had defended the village, but though she cast her vote
in favor of letting the dragons visit Me’ran, she had warned that she would keep
her children far from them.
“He remains silent to retain my late husband’s honor.” Serra faced Yarlan
and Namor. “But Kerrik would be ashamed of how you, his fellow slayers, treat
Falier now.”
“K-Kerrik?” Yarlan stuttered, then regained his composure. “Kerrik was
wise and good. Why would he keep such a secret?”
“To save the life of a boy with powers too weak to protect him on the front
lines.” Serra gave Falier a look of apology. “The life of wayfarers is dangerous
and grueling, often with little time for training before drawing the line at the
Nissen River. Unlike Segenn, Kerrik did not believe in taking sons from their
families only to have them fall in their first battle, so first-generation telepaths
who just barely manifested the gift were given training to hold back their powers
and respect the privacy of others. Falier and his family only did as they were told
to save his life.”
Alísa glanced at Falier as both relief and shame flowed from him—his

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secrets now revealed to all. He shifted under the emotions but somehow kept
them from his face. But Serra wasn’t finished.
“I stand by Kerrik’s decision in this matter, though I am pleased to see he
was wrong in one instance. Falier has proven himself capable in battle and brave
in heart. My husband would be proud.”
Falier’s tension melted away with her words. “Thank you.”
She nodded once, then strode back into the crowd with a purposeful grace
that declared the matter over.
If only all matters were over. Yarlan recovered quickly, turning back to the
crowd with a loud voice.
“None of this forgives the fact that—”
“I believe we’ve heard enough of your arguments, Yarlan.” Namor lifted a
hand to the crowd. “Surely there are others with opinions to voice? Let the elders
hear them, and let the Dragon Singer defend her position.”
Nerves shot down Alísa’s arms. Me’ran’s elders coming to the front meant
the discussion would be grave. Yarlan glared at Namor for the dismissal, but as
the elders came forward he retreated into the crowd. He’d proved himself a great
foe, yet he held a certain degree of respect for his superiors.
Seven elders came to stand alongside Namor and Tenza, Parsen and Kat
the youngest among them. Meira, one of the elders who had voted for the
dragons a week ago, raised a cacao-skinned palm to the crowd, as though asking
them to place their woes in her hand.
“What questions need answered?” she asked. “Come, don’t be shy. Better
to be up front than leave your doubts stopped up.”
“What proof do we have that this stranger and her dragons won’t turn on
us?” a man said, his five-year-old daughter on his hip. “How do we know we’re
safe?”
“Safe!” one of the dreki barked. The rest took up the call as well, their
baubled wings flapping with emphasis. Instead of convincing the people,
however, the dreki’s echoing answer seemed to spook some of them even more.
Alísa swallowed, willing her throat to relax so she could speak again.
Though she hated how they had attacked Falier, having the attention off her for
a short while had let her catch her breath. At a sharp bark from Laen, the rest of
the dreki silenced for Alísa.
“Two weeks ago, you w—welcomed three dragons into your c-c-c” —

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
30
breathe— “community because they saved your lives. These n—new dragons are
no d—different. Despite the distance separating you from the second b—battle,
their actions p-p-p-protected Me’ran from future violence. If this doesn’t p-p-
prove them, what can?”
“Dragons fight over territory all the time. How can we know this is any
different?” The man dipped his head. “I don’t doubt you, dear maiden, but
dragons are crafty beasts, able to hide their intent.”
She shook her head. “Not from me.”
“May I?” Falier whispered, and at her assent he spoke. “If this were a battle
over territory, they could have easily stayed at Rorenth’s mountain. Why come
here, where there are few mountains to hide from slayers or dwell in should the
clan grow bigger? They follow the Dragon Singer.”
“How many dragons are there now?” The female voice held a slight
tremble. “And how many can she control?”
Alísa took a breath. This answer would only add to the fear, but she
wouldn’t lie to them.
“T-t-twelve.” Gasps rose all around, many eyes widening with horror. She
closed her eyes to complete her answer. “Plus one hatchling and three eggs.”
Multiple voices rose from the crowd. “So many in such a short time!”
“Three or twelve, what does it matter if they fight for us?”
“We have two slayers to protect us. Two! Against sixteen?”
“Can the original three plus Alísa keep them in check?”
“They’ll eat our game and livestock, burn our wood—”
Alísa forced a breath in and out, fighting back the fear pressing in on her.
Though a part of her was angered by the peoples’ refusal to see her dragons’
great sacrifice for them, another part remembered her own fear when she was
just a daughter of slayers. The trepidation as she faced Graydonn even after he
had already proved himself safe. The way she had jerked back from Koriana’s
large, inhuman face.
Yes, the slayers’ daughter remembered. How could she have thought this
would be easy for them? How could she salvage this?
“Silence!” Namor raised his hands and the village settled into a respectful,
yet uneasy quiet. He turned back to Alísa, but she kept her eyes on the bonfire.
“Answer the rest of the question. How many can you keep under your control?”
Alísa shook her head, brushing against Laen’s nose as the drek tried to

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nuzzle her cheek. It wasn’t that simple. Namor knew that. Why didn’t he speak
for her—tell them what he already understood?
“It’s not about c-c-c-c” —breathe— “control. They c-c-control themselves,
and they f—f—f” —stop it! Breathe!— “f—follow me b—because they believe.”
“There could have been more dragons,” Falier said earnestly, “had Alísa
been shrewd and appealed to the dragons’ desires for territory or battle. Harenn
told her of his other clanmates who would have come had that been the call.
Instead, she appealed only to those who desired justice and peace. Her song
gained the right dragons. Those are the dragons living in Twi-Peak. We have
nothing to fear from them.”
“What say you to that, Me’ran?” Namor said. “To dragons bound not
through a woman’s telepathic hold, but to their individual beliefs in the cause
of peace?”
Alísa caught the slayer’s eyes as he gave her the slightest of smiles. As the
crowd murmured about his question, understanding filled her heart with relief.
Though Namor’s position as elder and slayer settled the responsibility of
questioning her on his shoulders, he did still believe her.
The rest of the people, however, were clutched in a fog of confusion and
uncertainty. One woman—the tanner, Alísa recognized—lifted a respectful
hand and spoke.
“I’m willing to believe what Alísa and Falier have told us, even happy to
take them to Soren to speak with other slayers, but I do worry about food. I
assume that many of your dragons are adults—how much will a clan of dragons
eat? Will the hunters in our area still be able to find food and sell their wares
here? At the risk of sounding self-centered, our business relies on such things,
and many of you rely on our work.”
Alísa opened her mouth to speak, but another woman spoke over her. “Can
we ask that the dragons only hunt on the north side of the mountain? Protect
our area from over-hunting?”
Alísa shook her head. “D—d—dragons don’t eat m—much, and it’s d—
difficult to hunt in the forest. They need—”
“And what about what we need?” Yarlan said from the crowd. “Surely if
your dragons are as good and noble as you say, they can make some sacrifices.
A show of good faith, if you will. You wouldn’t want to cause a problem only the
wayfarers can solve, would you?”

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
32
Fear seized Alísa, closing her throat again. She had the answers, and they
wouldn’t affect Me’ran nearly as much as they thought. Adult dragons only
needed a good meal once every few days. They didn’t need much, but they did
need opportunity—open spaces where they could spot prey from the sky.
Confined to the north side of the mountain, they would have a hard time finding
what they needed. With wounded dragons, and dragonets soon to hatch,
keeping up on meals was vital.
But as the people latched onto this ‘show of good faith’ and Alísa’s fear
clogged her throat, Yarlan’s eyes lit with triumph.
In the midst of the murmurings, another elder spoke. “Yes, I propose a
compromise—an opportunity for Alísa and Falier to prove their words, while
giving our people safety. If these dragons can prove themselves good in real
life—not in a battle far removed from us—we will support you before our
neighboring villages.”
Alísa fought back a tremble of anger, though she didn’t know who she was
more angry at—the people who demanded more proof of her dragons than even
shed blood could provide, or herself, who couldn’t do anything more than
watch.
The elder continued. “Allow Koriana, Graydonn, and Sesína to visit our
village, as we already agreed. Let any other dragon who comes near, whether
landing or merely flying over, be escorted by one of these three dragons. The
new dragons must never outnumber the originals, and Alísa will always
accompany them. I don’t think anyone can doubt her intentions toward us—if
one or more of these dragons attacked, she would be the first to fight for us.”
“I can attest to that,” Namor added.
“Secondly, to address the issue of game—the dragons should confine their
hunting grounds to the northeast of Twi-Peak. What say you, Me’ran? Would
you agree to these terms?”
The elders took a vote, hands raised and lowered, voices agreed and
dissented. All of it washed over Alísa like a winter storm her little tent couldn’t
stand against. She had failed to make the people feel safe, failed to present her
clan to them in a good light, failed to speak when words needed to be spoken.
‘You’ve taken an apprentice, of course.’
The words shot through her like lightning—a memory long-repressed. A
woman, a fellow daughter of a chief, who should have given Alísa support and

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hope but instead gave disdain. Tears prickled at Alísa’s eyes. Humankind had
never accepted her.
“Alísa?” Her name snapped her from her numbness. The elders were
looking at her now. “Will you agree to this?”
Alísa pulled in a breath. Despite the hardship this would put her clan
through, this wasn’t the worst of outcomes. The people hadn’t reacted as she
and Falier had wanted, had expected, but they were giving her another chance.
Yet as she stared into the fire, unable to meet the eyes of the elders, that chance
seemed so small. They were afraid of dragons who had faced death to protect
them—what more could be done to convince them? And what hope did she
have of gaining their trust if all she felt standing before them now was fear?
She rubbed the fabric of her skirt between her fingers. She had no other
option. She couldn’t just march into a slayer camp, declare who she and her
dragons were, and expect anything besides bloodshed. She needed Me’ran just
as much as she feared them.
Not trusting her voice, Alísa nodded and sealed her fate.

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
34
4
SPECTERS OF THE PAST
Three Years Prior
“A chief and his family should honor fallen warriors whenever the chance is
given.” Alísa’s father looked down at her. His steady brown eyes gave her
assurance as they approached a gathering of strange slayers. “Each one has
given not only their blood for others, but their entire life as they came out of
their families to serve with their whole being.”
He gestured to the mountains behind them, one of them Alísa would later
come to know as Rorenth’s mountain. “It is rare that we have the opportunity to
do so for a clan outside our territory, but Tella’s father and I worked together to
clear this pass of dragons two years ago, and she was among our warriors. This
is why we cross from our territory into hers, to show our respect to the new chief
and her dead.”
Alísa’s mother walked just behind them, her fingers once again adjusting
Alísa’s hair after the high winds of the mountain pass. She had braided a tight
crown from Alísa’s curls before leaving camp and had chosen a sky-blue dress
that matched the thread of blue in the red and brown tartan sashes of the chief.
A man and a woman separated from the group of slayers, the woman
drawing all of Alísa’s attention. She walked with the swagger of a warrior, the
sword resting at her hip like she had been born with it. Scarred red dragon scale
bracers, honey-blond braids tight against her scalp, and a rim of kohl around
her eyes lent a sense of ferocity to the new chief.
Karn rested a hand on Alísa’s shoulder, halting her alongside him. He
brought his other hand over his heart, not fisted as a subordinate, but open in a
sign of equality. Alísa fisted her own hand as she followed his lead.

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“Chief Tella,” Karn said. “It grieved me to hear of your father’s passing. He
was a good man and a valiant warrior.”
Tella’s eyes betrayed no emotion at the mention of her father, but her
sorrow and that of her clan flowed through the astral plane like the breeze
tugging at Alísa’s hair.
“I know. Thank you.” Tella’s eyes lowered to meet Alísa’s. “And who is
this?”
Karn squeezed her shoulder—a signal to speak. Alísa swallowed down
Tella’s grief settling in her throat—a grief she herself would one day face as she,
too, rose up to take her father’s place. What should she say? Just her name? A
condolence as her father had given?
“Alísa,” she finally said. “I’m s—s—so sorry for your l—loss. B—B—
Branni strengthen your hands.”
A small laugh lifted Tella’s lips. “There’s no need to be afraid, girl. I don’t
bite.”
Alísa swallowed. “I’m n—n—not—”
“She has a condition, Tella,” her mother said, stepping forward to meet the
new chief as well.
Heat rose into Alísa’s cheeks, and she looked down. Her mother hadn’t
meant to shame her—Alísa’s empathy made that very clear—yet it hurt all the
same. Tella’s gaze lingered on Alísa, the scrutinizing attention making her
stomach churn until it moved on to Hanah.
Karn leaned in close and whispered. “Confidence…”
Memory filled in the rest of her father’s phrase. ‘…covers weakness. Lift your
eyes.’
Alísa clenched her skirts in her fingers, then forced her hands down and
her eyes up. She wasn’t afraid. She wouldn’t be weak before Tella, a great
warrior who had proven herself on the battlefield, fighting dragons even
without the aid of telepathy. Alísa would never have such battle prowess, nor
did she want it, but one day she would need the same confidence as she took
Karn’s place as chief.
Tella’s gaze returned to Karn, a question in her eyes. “This is your whole
family, then?”
“Immediate, yes. My brother and his family are back at camp.”
She nodded absentmindedly, her gaze moving past Karn and over Alísa’s

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
36
head in the direction of their camp. “You’ve taken an apprentice, of course.”
It was part question, part statement, as though the only correct answer was
yes. Shame roiled in Alísa’s belly, but no one seemed to notice her discomfort as
her father told Tella of Kallar’s recent injury that kept him from this meeting.
Of his bravery in battle when his shield-partner pulled back from a dragon’s
flames and left his left side unprotected. Of how he had tamed the wild pain of
the burns, turning it into a telepathic weapon that speared dragons from the sky
as he waited for rescue.
A true slayer, and someone Tella would surely see as a worthy successor.
Not like Alísa, who couldn’t tame her stammer long enough to bring her father
honor before his fellow chief.
Or soften slayers to the truth.
Or calm the fears of normals.
Sesína nuzzled Alísa’s cheek, calling her back from the pain-filled memory.
“What Tella thought of you does not define you.”
Alísa sniffed back her tears, kneeling on the dancing grounds in the
darkness of Sesína’s winged embrace. “But she was right. They all were. Tella,
Toronn, my father. It all happened just as they predicted.”
A soft growl emanated from Sesína, bathed in the scent of clean, hot
dragon-fire. “Did they see you commanding dragons? Leading them in a battle that
saved hundreds, perhaps thousands, of lives? You proved them wrong, and you will do
it again.”
Alísa shook her head. “I don’t know if I can. I have the power of a Dragon
Singer, but when it comes to leading humankind… I can’t pull their attention like Yarlan,
and I can’t gain the respect Namor or the other elders have earned.”
Sesína opened her eyes, the green light of her gaze illuminating the dark
space. “You will gain their respect. What just happened sorely favored the others, but
you have strengths of your own. You will show them.”
“It’s all so wrong.”
“Yes, it is. But we’ll push through.” Sesína bumped Alísa’s shoulder with her
snout. “You always do, and the clan will follow your lead.”
Alísa breathed deeply, the air trembling in her chest. The thought should
have been a comfort, but what if she failed them further? What if staying here

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and pushing through wasn’t the correct choice? What if she couldn’t make the
villagers change their minds and it lost her the chance to reach slayers?
“What can I do?”
Falier’s voice came from beyond Alísa’s dragon-wing shield, low and
contrite as though he had caused this. Now that the people had dispersed and
their fear and anger were gone, Alísa released her hold on her empathy and felt
the fog of his emotions seeping through the cracks in the wing shield. Many
emotions twisted inside him, sorrow the greatest of all. What had happened hurt
him too, perhaps just as much as it had hurt her, though in a different way.
“Let him see me,” Alísa whispered through the bond.
Sesína pulled her wings away, allowing the cooling night air to hit Alísa’s
tear-streaked cheeks. Falier knelt just outside, hands fisted on his thighs and
eyes full of concern. Alísa swiped at her tears and looked down.
“Oh Líse.” Falier scooted forward. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I never thought
they’d react this badly.”
“M—m—m—” The stammer rendered her silent again, bringing more
tears. Why couldn’t she get ahold of herself?
The buzz of Falier’s telepathy came to life in her mind. “Is this okay?”
His voice was so quiet, borne by his ability alone rather than by Graydonn
or another dragon. Though it indicated the lack of power that made him feel
ashamed, in this moment it felt so very safe.
“Yes.”
“What were you trying to say?”
“I never thought it would go this way, either. I knew people would be afraid, but—
I thought the dragons’ sacrifice and seeing what happened through our eyes would
make them understand. The dragons aren’t here to hurt anyone, to kill slayers, to take
resources. They’re heroes, and they’re being treated like villains. The people even treated
you that way.”
Alísa forced her eyes up. What mess had she gotten him into? “I’m so sorry.
Most new telepaths are treated poorly by normals when they’re first revealed, but
this—this was wrong. Me’ran knows you. They shouldn’t have said the things they did.
Especially Yarlan.”
Yarlan should have been the first to defend Falier, being perhaps only ten
years Falier’s senior and the father of two young boys who were sure to prove
slayers themselves. The only reason he hadn’t was because Falier sided with

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
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Alísa. Falier’s people had turned on him because he stood with her.
Falier rubbed a soothing hand over her arm. “That isn’t your fault. I’m the
one who kept my telepathy a secret, and I have no regrets about revealing it now. If
anything, I should be thanking you for showing me I could use it.”
His gentle touch made her crave more. She reached for him, wrapping her
arms around his waist. Falier returned the embrace, allowing her to bury her
face in his shoulder.
“It will be all right,” he whispered. “It’s not what we wanted, but it only
adds time before we reach our goal. We’ll show them that the new dragons are
just like Graydonn, Sesína, and Koriana. We’ll prove we’re working for peace,
and Me’ran will help us win the slayers over. I’m sure of it.”
Alísa wasn’t sure. Falier’s belief in her made her want to shrivel up and
hide. She would disappoint him.
“You’ve beaten worse odds,” Sesína whispered through their bond. “Don’t give
up on yourself that easily. Neither of us will. Nor will the rest of the dragons—ack!—
or these pesky dreki.”
Those last words made Alísa look back at Sesína. Ten or so dreki still
watched from the trees behind her, but five of them clung to Sesína’s head- and
neck-spines. Laen sat on top of Sesína’s head and chirped.
“Help.”
The other dreki echoed Laen’s declaration with chirps, barks, and
telepathic words. If nothing else, Alísa had supporters among the other races.
A throat cleared behind Falier, and Alísa pulled away from him to look.
Kat stood there, one of the final few humans on the dancing grounds. Her hands
wrung her apron, and her eyes drooped with fatigue.
She jerked her head back toward the fire. “Namor would like to speak with
you.”
Trepidation swept through Alísa as she glanced at Namor and Tenza, the
couple sitting on one of the logs at the fire. It seemed to be a running theme now
for Namor to support her but always be held back by something. What did he
have to say? How far could she trust him for aid?
Alísa swiped away the remnants of her tears and looked back to Falier and
Sesína. “Stay with me?”
Sesína took a step forward, startling a couple of the dreki. “As if you could
keep me away.”

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Falier reached up to pet Ska as the blue drek chose his shoulder as a
replacement perch. “Of course.”
Alísa led the way, exhaustion weighing down every step. A flicker of light
drew her eyes to the Hold door, where Parsen and Selene reemerged. As the
door closed behind them, figures moved inside the Hold. Falier had mentioned
that a few families were living there while rebuilding their homes. Rorenth’s
scouts had destroyed multiple homes in their attack.
A strange mixture of guilt and fear prickled inside of her—guilt that she
hadn’t been able to stop the loss of property, and fear that the displaced families
blamed her for that, too. She hadn’t burned down the homes, and she had been
part of the reason the rest of the village still stood, yet the feelings ached.
Alísa blew out her breath. She needed to be stronger. She wasn’t a
whimpering waif. She was Alísa-Dragon-Singer. Leader of dragons. Defender of
the innocent.
Terrifier of the innocent.
Terrified.
Swallowing back the thought, Alísa sat on the log beside Namor’s bench.
Falier sat beside her, Sesína behind them, while the rest of the holders took the
log on the other side of Falier. Laen hopped off Sesína as soon as Selene sat
down, fluttering to the young holder’s shoulder. The fire had died down but still
illuminated each face clearly.
Namor looked at Alísa and breathed out his first word. “Twelve.”
Alísa didn’t know whether to smile with pride or duck her head in shame.
Her empathy didn’t even help—the only people she could feel were the holders.
Even Tenza had her empathy bound so tightly that Alísa would have to stand
right beside her to feel anything.
“Plus four little ones.” Namor leaned on his knee. “You understand why
the people reacted the way they did?”
Alísa swallowed. “How c-c-could I not? The remnants of their feelings c-
crush me even now.”
“Then you understand how careful you’ll have to be in the coming weeks.
One false step will send them into panic. They’ll send messengers to the
wayfarers, and the story will end here. We cannot repeat Bria’s tragedy.”
Scenes of fire and blood ran through Alísa’s mind, and she shivered as the
faces of the dead became the faces of Me’ran. Of Falier and his family.

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
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“‘Bria’s tragedy’?” Parsen looked to Namor and Alísa in turn. “What am I
missing?”
"A great deal," Tenza said. “This mess would be easier to clean if you and
the rest of the world knew the tale.”
She looked pointedly at Namor, something passing between them.
Whether psychic words or the silent communication of couples who have spent
decades together, Alísa couldn’t tell. Namor gave a nearly imperceptible sigh as
he looked back to the holders.
“What I am about to disclose is one of the Silent Stories—histories kept
and passed on by chiefs and their seconds alone. They are the histories we wish
to forget, yet duty compels us to remember. Secrets kept to protect the hearts
and minds of our people.”
“Secrets,” Tenza said, her distaste palpable, “that hide past mistakes and
leave us open to repeating them.”
Namor closed his eyes as though they’d had this argument before. “One of
these is the tale of Bria. The true tale of the first Dragon Singer, not the
romanticized version of a stolen girl that the bards tell. Alísa has heard the story
from the dragons’ perspective already, but the slayers remember it differently.”
Alísa leaned in. The visions she’d seen from Koriana were memories
passed on through Illumination and probably as close to the truth as possible,
but the dragons wouldn’t have known the slayers’ side of the story.
The firelight played at the shadows of Namor’s face as they did many a
storyteller, but his face was graver and his voice lower than any storyteller Alísa
could remember.
“Among the chiefs, the story is of a warrior woman who was kidnapped by
dragons and then joined them. It was assumed the dragons bent her to their will
after learning of the power in her songs. It was also assumed that when she and
her dragons carved out a territory for themselves, they enslaved entire villages
under them.”
Namor looked to Alísa. “This, I think, is what Yarlan fears, though he has
never heard the tale to the best of my knowledge.”
Alísa nodded. Many slayers feared that a dragon might possess someone
and bend them to their will. There had even been talk of it happening to her
because of her dragon empathy—that she had a dragon inside her. Now that she
knew dragons weren’t spawns of the Nameless, she didn’t know if draconic

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possession was actually possible—though their ability to compel a person
through telepathy had been proven.
“The slayers who learned of Bria,” Namor continued, “believed death was
better than living under the control of dragons. When they faced Bria’s army,
they first tried desperately to free the villagers by killing only the dragons. In the
end, however, they massacred both in the name of freeing human souls.”
Falier tensed beside her, and the eyes of the holders went wide with horror.
A chill passed over Alísa. Already knowing the story did nothing to settle her,
and Namor’s inflection said there was more to it.
“When the battle ended, Bria stood alone. A few dragons had escaped, and
the slayers knew they had to free her soul before the beasts came back for her.
They worked for days, telepathically trying to pull out the dragon inside of her,
ignoring her protests that she had turned by her own free will. In their minds,
no warrior such as her could ever have changed her mind so drastically—it had
to have been possession.”
Namor’s eyes met Alísa’s. “They couldn’t believe it was true, not until they
finally separated what they saw as the dragon from the woman.” He looked
down. “They ripped her anam from her body, killing her.”
Alísa’s heart skipped a beat. Ripped her soul from her body?
Talons scraped over packed earth as Sesína stood, her wings lifted as
though to protect Alísa from the past. Falier’s face paled, his fear matching
Alísa’s own.
“That’s p-p-possible?”
“I do not tell this tale to frighten you,” Namor said, his tone somber. “Only
so you know the full cost should someone fear enough to call the wayfarers.
Chief Segenn knows the tale and hopefully would avoid any rash decisions like
attacking Me’ran, but it is a possibility.”
Silence took the group, but Alísa’s thoughts whirled. Things had seemed
so simple before today. The people had accepted her and the three dragons, so
coming back to Me’ran had made the most sense. Twi-Peak was a safe place for
the wounded dragons and the dragonets soon to hatch, and Me’ran was the only
place she had a chance to gain human aid before going to the slayers.
But now? Had she doomed this village to the same fate as Bria’s?
Parsen looked to Namor. “I assume you have ideas of how to avoid this
outcome?”

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The slayer rubbed his chin. “It is a delicate balance we must find if Alísa is
to win the people over and bring slayers to her side. On one hand, we must be
cautious. Making the people more afraid will result in the wayfarers coming to
investigate.”
“On the other hand” —Tenza lifted a cautionary finger— “the fear already
in the people will not alleviate itself. We must work to help them overcome it.
That will require opportunities to see the dragons in a non-threatening light.
Humanity will always fear what they do not understand, so keeping to
yourselves in your caves is not the answer either.”
Alísa pushed out a silent breath. Simply staying away from the village
would be far easier, but it would merely prolong the problem and do nothing to
help her find slayers willing to join the fight. But if she had just failed miserably
in presenting her cause to normals, how could she possibly hope to win over
battle-hardened slayers?
Alísa closed her eyes, forcing the thought back. There was no other way.
She just had to make it work.
“I can have the dragons visit regularly. K-k-keeping to the rules of the c-
compromise, the people can slowly g—get to know the new dragons. See that
they want p-p-peace too and aren’t a threat.”
Falier grinned. “That’s a great idea! They can come to the village square.
There’s plenty of room, and—”
“No.”
All eyes turned to Alísa. She put her focus squarely on the fire. The word
had leapt from her mouth without thought.
Sesína nosed her arm and whispered through the bond. “I know you’re
afraid, but you can’t avoid them forever.”
Alísa didn’t respond. It wasn’t just that, was it? There were logical reasons
not to go to the square. She spoke carefully, keeping her stammer back as best
she could.
“Not the square, near peoples’ homes. Those most afraid of the dragons
will feel threatened by that. And the square is w—where the main roads enter
the village. We’re more likely to be seen by p-p-p-people who don’t know what’s
going on and might c—call the wayfarers.”
Sesína’s mind felt prickly as she accepted Alísa’s answers. Unsatisfied, but
apparently choosing not to argue at this time.

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“What about here?” Selene offered. “The dancing grounds are big enough,
and the Hold should block the dragons from sight of the paths entering the
village.”
“What about those coming in from the forests?” Parsen pointed an
inquiring finger. “Hunters, like Alísa’s imaginary family?”
“I did often wonder why they never came with you,” Kat said quietly.
Alísa felt herself shrink under Kat’s gaze. “I’m sorry. It was a n—necessary
falsehood.”
Silence took the group for a moment, then Falier looked to Alísa.
“Graydonn has incredible empathic range. He would probably catch the mental
signature of anyone coming in from the forest.”
Alísa smiled. “Yes. I’ve seen him d—do it. He can even sense direction. He
can k-k-keep a lookout.”
The others seemed satisfied, and Namor straightened. “Then we have a
plan. Maker help us all.”
A glowing log in the fire pit popped, sending sparks into the air. Alísa
watched as they all died out. Maker help them, indeed. Wasn’t bringing humans
and dragons together His mission for her? Then why had He allowed tonight to
go so wrong? Why had He picked her for this task? Or, if it had to be her, why
did He give her the speech impediment that kept humans from hearing her?
Silence covered the space for a moment before Kat finally spoke. “Namor,
Tenza, thank you. I feel better about this with you at our backs. Can we offer you
a room tonight, so you don’t have to go home in the dark?”
Tenza looked to Namor, who nodded to the holder. “I believe we’ll take
you up on that. Thank you.”
“What about you, Alísa?” Parsen said. “Or will you go back to the cave?”
Alísa shook her head. “Thank you, b—but I’m going to go home. The c-c-
c-clan needs to know what happened.” And as much as she didn’t want to
recount everything, the thought of facing the dragons seemed infinitely better
than facing those staying at the Hold.
A quiet groan turned Alísa’s eyes to Namor, where Tenza supported him
as he stood. It was so easy to forget his missing leg—he was so strong and sure
in everything. Why couldn’t she be like him?
Alísa looked down as he caught her staring, then forced her eyes up again.
“Thank you, for your help today.”

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
44
Namor leaned on his staff, his smile tired but genuine. “The path you’ve
chosen is a difficult one. Perhaps in helping you tread it, I will begin to atone for
our peoples’ many mistakes. For my many mistakes.”
Alísa blinked. What could she say to that? Were there even any words?
“Good night,” Tenza said softly, as though she knew Alísa didn’t know how
to respond.
“Good night,” Alísa said as the two slayers followed Kat to the Hold.
What should she make of those two? Fear and anger filled her first
memories of them, and even though they sided with her now, the feelings hadn’t
fully gone away. It was like what she had felt toward Koriana before the bond to
Sesína changed everything—a fear of something that could crush her, even
though she believed it wouldn’t.
It seemed so surreal, the happenings of today. She longed to wake up to a
world where people weren’t afraid, one where they accepted her.
While she was dreaming, perhaps also a world where Rayna’s wing wasn’t
shredded, Iila’s parents had turned and come with them, the eggs had already
bonded to dragons in her clan, and Sareth and Chrí were still alive. Perhaps the
whole week had just been a bad dream.
An arm slid around her shoulders and pulled her in. “I know that look. I
wish I could make it better.”
Alísa leaned into Falier’s embrace, soaking in his affection. “You help.”
A wave of happiness came off him, and he planted a tender kiss in her hair.
Butterflies flitted in her stomach, and she grasped onto the positive emotions
like a drowning woman. Not all of the past week had been bad.
‘Cling to joy,’ her father had once told her when training to control her
empathy. When it was too much for her to handle, she just needed to find joy
and refuse to let it go. Sesína’s growth, the dragons’ respect, Namor and Tenza’s
support, Falier’s arms. She couldn’t let it all get lost in the noise, not now and
not tomorrow when she once again would face the people’s fear. And her own.

STORMDANCE
45
5
A HOLDER’S RETURN
An eerie quiet hung over the Hold as Falier and his family served their people,
the tension of last night still palpable. The sounds of utensils clanking against
wooden plates and of tea pouring from his mother’s kettle overpowered the
hushed conversations.
There had been far more chatter yesterday. Aside from Namor and Tenza,
this group were all neighbors—three families affected by the attack by
Rorenth’s scouts a little over a week ago. Their lives had been changed by the
introduction of the dragons, so last night must have been particularly grueling
for them. But while a few here understood that the damage to the village would
have been worse—perhaps even total—if not for Graydonn and the others, over
half of them seemed to only get a bad taste in their mouths at the word “dragon.”
“Holder Falier?” Serra’s seven-year-old son held his empty plate over his
head. “I’m done!”
The boy’s eagerness, stark against the silence, drew a smile from Falier.
“That was fast.”
His ten-year-old brother rolled his eyes. Or attempted to—his whole head
moving instead, swinging the warrior braids that reminded Falier of Kerrik. “I
tried to tell him he still has to wait before playing. Ma says he’ll puke if he runs
too hard after eating.”
Serra grimaced, putting a hand out toward him. “The whole Hold doesn’t
need to know that.”
Falier did his best not to laugh. “No building for you boys today?”
The younger boy rested his head on his fist. “No. Mamá says everything’s
too heavy.”
Serra ruffled his hair. “Maker willing, you’ll get to help us seal the gaps in

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
46
the boards in a few days.”
The boy pushed his mother’s hand away and Falier let out his pent-up
chuckle, taking the empty plate back to the kitchen. They were good kids, and
Serra a good woman. That Kerrik had been taken from them so early in their
family’s life was a terrible wrong. The war had to end. Why did so many people
oppose his and Alísa’s efforts to make it so? Did they not see it every day in the
eyes of Serra and her children? In Namor’s injury and his daughter’s flight? In
Taz’s absence?
After many more returned dishes, Falier went out to the well by the stables
and filled a bucket of water for washing. He looked up at Twi-Peak, squinting to
see if any dragons were out yet. The visit would be nearer the lunch hour, but
most of them had been cooped up for a couple days now. After two days of rest
from the battle, they were probably ready to stretch their wings and hunt.
Falier passed his mother going down to the cellar as he brought the water
to Selene and his father. Kat barely glanced his way, focused on the next task.
The flat, round baskets she carried on her hip needed to be filled with food for
those of the village who couldn’t support themselves.
He poured the water into the dish-washing basin, then hurried to fill
another bucket for rinsing. Delivery day. Typically a favorite of his, but now a
tension settled in his stomach. The people he and his mother would deliver food
to today were more likely to voice their opinions than the subdued crowd in the
Hold. Normally, he enjoyed long conversations with them, but today likely
wouldn’t be a day filled with stories and banter.
Still, as his first delivery day since returning, it would be good to see them
one-on-one again.
Grabbing a few more baskets and desperately wishing for some of the
bread just coming out of the oven, Falier headed for the cellar. A chill tickled at
his skin as he descended into the dark, his eyes adjusting slowly. Kat stood in the
back corner, picking out potatoes and root vegetables for her baskets. She
looked up at his entrance, then went back to her selection.
“I’m a little surprised to see you here,” she said. “No dragon waiting to
whisk you away?”
Falier chuckled, stopping at the fruit boxes to grab peaches and pears.
“Maybe after the visit, but I told them I’ve got chores. Can’t miss the deliveries.”
“Didn’t stop you last week.”

STORMDANCE
47
Falier stopped, setting a pear back in the box. “Ma, I had to go. Alísa and
the dragons needed a slayer with them. We had to stop Rorenth before he
attacked Me’ran again.”
“And what about now? Namor seems to think we’re in even more danger
now.”
Falier swallowed, Bria’s story filling his head. “That’s why we have to make
this work—why I’m going to tell everyone I can about the dragons visiting today.
We all have a role to play.”
His mother looked down. Her inhalation became audible, as though she
wanted to say something but kept thinking better of it. What had gotten into
her? She was usually so calm, so patient, so ready with words of wisdom and
encouragement.
“Ma? What’s going on?”
“It shouldn’t have been you,” she whispered. She gripped the side of the
vegetable box harder and looked up at him, her voice rising. “You did the right
thing, but it shouldn’t have been you. Alísa needed a slayer—it should have
been Yarlan who went with her, not you. Not my son, who was told that if he
ever stepped onto the battlefield, he—”
Her voice cracked and she looked away, her arms shaking as she leaned
against the wooden box. Falier’s own heart shook. What should he say? How
could he help her? He took another step, then felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Take Selene today,” his father said. In this moment, Parsen seemed to
have taken on Kat’s unwavering calm, his gaze steady rather than constantly
seeking the next thing. He walked past Falier to where Kat stood with her face
in her hands. Parsen whispered something to her, his words too low for Falier
to make out, and escorted her out of the cellar with a comforting hand around
her waist. Kat’s skirt brushed Falier’s pant leg as she passed, the contact
strangely unsettling, as though coming up against a barrier between them that
neither could cross. Could he do anything to make it right?
Selene came down into the darkness of the cellar. She still wore her apron,
her hair up in the bun she used when working the kitchen, and she carried a
deeper basket than the others, with loaves individually wrapped in white linens.
She tilted her head in question.
Falier nodded at the door. “Has she been like this since I left?”
Selene went to the baskets their mother had left behind. “Not outwardly,

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
48
but her voice has carried the weight.” She picked up a potato, checking for signs
of rot. “We were all worried, you know.”
Falier sighed and turned back to the fruit boxes. “I didn’t mean to cause
such strife.”
“I know. But they’ll need more than a song and dance and a confession of
love to a girl who lied to them before they’re ready to let you go. Especially
Mamá. You’re her baby.”
Falier moved to the next section, where the grains and spices were stored.
“Any advice?”
“Just gradual exposure. The visits with Alísa and the dragons should help,
but she also needs to see you safe and competent in their world. Prove Kerrik’s
warnings wrong. It’s not just that you want to be in that world—you belong
there.”
Selene looked at him with those eyes that saw everything. “And you do
belong there, right? It’s not just your infatuation with Alísa?”
Falier closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the air that rushed past him
while flying, the spot at the back of his mind where his bond to Graydonn sat,
the wonder of giants like Koriana and Saynan considering him a friend.
“Yes.”
Selene nodded once and turned back to her work. “I’ll take the west side.”
Falier smiled gratefully. Yarlan lived on that side of the village, and since
his trade was slaying, his family needed a delivery.
“Thank you.” He hesitated. “Be sure to tell Yarlan too, about the visit today.
As much as I’d like to keep him away, if he finds out some other way—”
“Already planned to.” Selene carried her baskets to the cellar steps. “I’ll see
you at the visit.”
Falier grabbed a loaf from the pile she had left. “See you then.”
Me’ran wasn’t the village Falier remembered. A tense silence hung over it as he
entered. Though shops opened and the people went about their daily lives, the
colors, voices, and moods all seemed subdued. Even the children playing
kickball in the street seemed to play less for fun and more for necessity, focusing
hard on the ball and forgetting to laugh.
Of course, it was hard to laugh when playing near three houses now

STORMDANCE
49
reduced to piles of ash. Serra and other adults worked on the new skeleton of
one of them.
Falier stopped briefly to tell the workers about the dragons’ visit in the next
couple of hours. One of the workers seemed interested, others—including
Serra—nodded noncommittally, and two turned away as soon as “dragon” left
Falier’s mouth. He should have expected it after last night, but disappointment
flooded him all the same.
Shifting his hold on the pile of three baskets, Falier headed for a small
home with patches of flowers and vegetables. A few bees picked their way
through the garden, showing more life than anyone else Falier had seen today.
Setting the baskets beside the door, he picked up the top one and looked it
over, ensuring it was the correct delivery. Two women lived here—sisters, one
widowed and one never married—and the elder had struggled with a persistent
cough the last few days. Selene had given him a pouch with the tea their mother
made to help.
Assured he had the right basket, Falier knocked the rhythmic pattern he
always used.
Footsteps shuffled inside and soon the door opened to reveal Sendi. Her
white hair pulled back in a bun, though a few stray curls made it look as though
she had just thrown it together before answering the door. Her hazel eyes
brightened as they landed on Falier, sending cool relief through him.
“Well, Falier, this is a pleasant surprise! I didn’t think you would be making
these deliveries anymore.”
He grinned. “And miss seeing my favorite troublemakers? How is Marris—
has her cough gotten any better?”
“Much.”
“Good. Ma sends her love—”
“Love isn’t what did it, dear.” Sendi bent down to grab an empty basket
from inside the door. “I certainly hope Kat sent more tea.”
Falier chuckled, exchanging baskets with her. “It’s in a pouch under the
potatoes.”
“Very good. I would invite you in, but it might still be catching.” She leaned
against the doorframe. “Oh, but it is so good to see you back to your normal
duties. The way you left without warning and then stood at the dragon girl’s side
all last night had us worried.”

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
50
A warning pinched in Falier’s stomach. “Worried?”
“That you were leaving us. Would stay up there” —Sendi pointed to Twi-
Peak— “away from your people.”
Falier drummed his fingers on the underside of the basket. He was leaving
Me’ran, just not yet. Sendi was chatting amiably, like normal. After Ma’s
reaction and the builders’, was there harm in letting her continue with this train
of thought until emotions calmed down and Me’ran was on their side again?
Coward. That course of action wouldn’t serve anyone but himself.
Falier cleared his throat. “Not yet, no. When Alísa and her clan leave, I’ll
be going with them, but that won’t be for a while.”
Sendi straightened, brow furrowing with concern. “Then, you are leaving
us. All for a girl you barely know. There are plenty of nice girls here and in
Soren.”
Falier fought not to sigh. “Sendi, that isn’t why—”
“I saw the way you looked at her last night. That girl—”
“Alísa.” The correction came more sharply than intended.
“—has you wrapped around her finger. I never thought I’d see the day you,
of all people, would choose a pretty face over your village.”
Falier shook his head, searching for words. “I’m not. It’s not her versus
you.”
Sendi gave him a severely patient look. “Just because you don’t want it to
be doesn’t stop it from being so. You were there, dear—you heard the
arguments. She and her dragons are disrupting the peace.”
Falier set the empty basket down and held out his hands in entreaty.
“Peace is what we’re working for. Peace between the races ultimately affects
Me’ran too. You remember the dragon attack last week, and how Taz and other
slayers have been taken away from their families to fight in the war. She’s
working to stop all of it, and for the first time in my life I’ve been told I can help.
I want to help.”
“You help here.” Sendi pointed at the ground. “Used to be that was enough
for you. Now, when your people are wounded and frightened, you plan to
abandon us?”
“I might be leaving, but I’m not abandoning you. I’m not doing this for
Alísa.” Not solely for her, anyway. Falier reached for Sendi. “I want to help protect
you. It’s what I should have been doing all along as a slayer, but better, because

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51
I’m working to end the fight.”
She shook her head, pulling back behind the door as a shine filled her eyes.
“Holder or slayer, you have a duty to this village. Not to the world, not to
strangers—Me’ran. Seeing you outside my door today, I thought you knew
that.”
“Sendi—”
“Thank your mother for the tea.”
The thud of the door shutting knifed a hole in Falier’s heart. He stared at
the wooden panels, unable to move or breathe.
How—
Why—
What had just happened?
If even Sendi was angry with him, what hope did he have for facing the rest
of the village? Did everyone think he was abandoning them?
Falier forced a breath and bent to retrieve the baskets. Was she right? Was
he turning his back on Me’ran? Was all his reasoning just an excuse?
No! No, of course not. He was a slayer and mind-kin to a dragon—he
belonged in Alísa’s clan now, fighting to show the world that human and
dragon-kind could live together in peace.
He clutched the rough wicker. He was also a son of holders, unused to war
and death. Flashes from battles past had plagued his dreams. Thoughts of his
own death, or another’s because he wasn’t strong enough.
Thoughts of his people burning in another dragon attack.
Holder.
Slayer.
Me’ran.
Alísa and the dragons.
It wasn’t an either-or question, and yet, it was. He told Selene earlier that
he belonged with the dragons, but now? Now strained and broken relationships
weighed like stones in his lungs, pulling at his breaths. This village, these people,
were also where he belonged.
Falier stepped off the porch and back onto the road. His pulse pounded in
his temples like a percussionist untrained in dynamics. He needed it to settle
before he made his next delivery.
“Eldra Nahne,” he prayed at a whisper as he walked, far more comfortable

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
52
with the Eldra who shepherded holders than with Branni who guided warriors.
Maybe one day he would reach out to Branni with the confidence of a slayer,
but not today. “Help me serve my people today. If you’ve any strength of the
Maker’s to spare, I ask for it now. Help me calm their fears and build a bridge
between my two worlds.”
A change in sunlight lifted his eyes to the sky. Clear and blue, not a cloud
in sight, yet with colorful shapes spearing through it. Six dragons raced over the
village, drawing gasps of both delight and fear from the villagers. The dragons
flew from Twi-Peak in a westerly direction, either about to train or just
stretching their wings over the uninhabited parts of the forest.
Falier stopped walking and focused, reaching out to the green dragon near
the rear. “Good morning, Graydonn.”
The dragon’s steady calm turned to a light happiness. “Falier, shall I come
for you? Saynan’s going to have us spar before the visit.”
Graydonn banked back toward the village as his emotions turned to
something else. It felt negative, but Falier couldn’t yet recognize the exact
emotion, even with Graydonn’s next words.
“You are distressed, my friend?”
Falier breathed, trying to steady his emotions. “I’ll be all right. It’s been a long
day already. I need to finish my chores before the visit. If you have time afterward,
though, I think a fly would do me good. Maybe after lunch?”
Graydonn circled overhead, his glowing amber eyes now distinguishable
amid the grass green scales. As Graydonn looked down, Falier felt a shifting in
his own mind, as though the part connected to Graydonn were moving about.
Graydonn’s tone softened. “I am sorry. One day, they will understand.”
Falier looked back at Sendi’s house, then to the people who had stopped
to watch the dragon circle. “Maybe some. I don’t think they all will.”
Silence took the mind-link for a moment, then a flow of warmth from
Graydonn began filling it. Peace. It was gentle enough that even a weak telepath
could reject it if he wanted, but as it soothed over the ache in his heart and
quieted the pounding of his pulse, Falier just breathed it in.
“I will do all I can to help you reach them,” Graydonn said. “I know how much
you care for them.”
Falier blew out a breath. “Thank you.” He looked back up at his mind-kin.
“Go on, train hard. I’ll see you soon.”

STORMDANCE
53
Graydonn changed his course, flying back toward the other dragons with
a light trumpet. The watching villagers looked from Graydonn to Falier,
questions in their eyes. With breath filling his lungs a little more easily, Falier
put on the carefree holder mask he had used so many times.
“The dragons are going out for some flight-training, and they plan to visit
a little later at the Hold. Graydonn was just saying how much he hoped people
would come say hello.”
Again, a mixture of reactions came from the people. Some looked back up
after Graydonn, brows furrowed. A couple of children pulled on their mother’s
arms and begged to go see the dragons. A few adults whispered to each other in
tones Falier couldn’t make out. It would be a while before the village settled
again.
Falier adjusted his grip on the baskets and set his pace to match his
calming pulse. He had two more deliveries to make—two more opportunities
for either joy or heartache. He would press on, as he had learned to all his life.
Do his duty.
Serve the people.
And smile for them, even when it was just a mask.

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
54
6
THE FIRST VISIT
The hot summer air turned cool as it whipped past Alísa and Sesína,
invigorating and breath-stealing. Sesína banked, joy filling both dragon and
rider as ebony wings caught a new air current. Together in the sky, minds open
and uninhibited, only the flight existed. Gravity their enemy, the whipping
winds their uneasy ally, and the sky a reward reserved only for those with the
courage to continually face and defy gravity’s hold.
Underneath them, the great forest looked like mere blades of grass. With
no large clearings in sight, they were safe from view of unsuspecting villagers.
Alísa couldn’t even see Me’ran. Strange how something so terrifying and all-
consuming last night now appeared so small. It shouldn’t have affected her so
badly. At today’s visit, she would need to keep panic at bay.
Alísa tightened the tie holding back her mahogany curls and focused on
the Illumination bond. “Think we have time for one more dive?”
Sesína scoffed. “There’s always time for one more!”
“I mean before Saynan starts the next round—”
Sesína dove. The sudden motion nearly threw Alísa, but she clamped her
legs to the dragoness’ withers and latched her fingers to the spine in front of her.
Gravity had them now, pulling them faster and faster toward the forest below.
The wind whisked away perspiration as quickly as it came and stole Alísa’s
breath as they passed their training partners.
Alísa braced herself as she felt Sesína’s mental countdown. With a
satisfying snap, Sesína spread her wings. Gravity’s death grip turned to forward
momentum, shooting them over the forest.
A happy rumble ran through Sesína’s chest as she pumped her wings, once
again lifting them into the sky. They passed Koriana, Graydonn, and Komi as

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they headed back, aiming for a higher level of sky where two other dragons
waited. Saynan, the ice dragon, instructed them today, pairing the clan’s four
adolescent dragons in sparring matches. Harenn, a red-scaled adolescent,
hovered alongside him. Two years Sesína’s senior, Harenn was bulkier and a
foot taller at the withers, bringing Sesína’s competitive nature to life.
The buzz of a new telepathic connection entered Alísa’s mind. Saynan.
“Begin!”
Alísa and Sesína jolted to attention. Saynan typically waited for the
dragons to be level with each other before starting a match, but they were still a
few hundred feet below Harenn. The young red dove at them, gravity
completely on his side.
Sesína yelped and swerved into her own dive, Alísa gripping her spine in
panic.
“Remember, you don’t always get to choose when the battle begins.” The ice
dragon’s teaching voice was irritatingly calm. “Rorenth was distracted when we
came to him—most of the time the enemy won’t wait for you to say ‘Go.’”
They had almost reached the trees again, gaining speed but putting little
distance between them and Harenn. Sesína flapped hard to pull parallel with
the ground, then swerved left, Harenn directly behind them. Alísa clung hard,
knuckles white on Sesína’s spine as the small dragoness snapped and spun from
side to side to avoid their attacker.
“Harenn,” Saynan said, his telepathy reaching all combatants. “They haven’t
used their greatest weapon yet—now is your time to strike!”
Alísa sucked in a breath. His instruction for Harenn subtly instructed her
too—she should be singing. She reached for her strength song, but a light pain
in Sesína’s tail shocked her voice to a stop.
“That slap of Harenn’s paw counts as a bite, Sesína.” Saynan said as Sesína
swerved away again. “In a true battle, your balance would be off, and your turns
would become slower. One more hit and you’re dead.”
A sliver of panic rose in Sesína—they couldn’t lose, not yet! “Sing! Help me
put distance between us!”
Alísa sang, latching onto the strength song she had used many times
before. She focused on their bond, pushing power into Sesína, while ignoring
Saynan and Harenn’s mental signatures. As the song melted into Sesína, the
dragoness’ fatigue began to lift. Next time, Alísa would remember to sing right

MICHELLE M. BRUHN
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away.
“Hang on tight.” Sesína flashed an idea into Alísa’s mind.
Alísa’s stomach fell into her throat as Sesína pulled up sharply and back-
flipped over Harenn. They moved so fast that Harenn had only just started
swerving away by the time they were upright again.
“Nicely done,” Saynan said.
Sesína gave chase as Harenn swept into an updraft, rising high above the
forests. Alísa’s strength coursed into Sesína and they gained altitude quickly.
Sesína focused on Harenn’s tail, ready to return the blow he had dealt her.
“Almost…”
Harenn twisted and dropped. Sesína flapped backward as they nearly
collided. A light pain echoed through Alísa as Harenn slapped Sesína’s tail
again.
“And that’s the round!” Saynan declared. “Well won, Harenn.”
Alísa leaned over to see Harenn gliding out of his fall and turning a couple
of victory circles.
“Combatants, to me,” Saynan ordered.
Sesína pointed her nose at their instructor, her mood darkening.
Alísa patted Sesína’s neck. “Next time. You’re still getting used to having a rider,
and I should have sung for you sooner.”
Sesína snorted. “You make it sound like it’s all your fault. I’m the one making the
wrong flight decisions.”
Sesína breathed heavily as she and Harenn pulled up on either side of
Saynan. The three dragons began a long, loose circle as Saynan’s light, sincere
tone replaced his disconnected instructor voice.
“Your flip was well-executed, Sesína. You were quick enough not to lose your rider,
and you turned Harenn’s advantage around. Your agility impresses me.”
Alísa smiled as Sesína’s self-criticism lifted slightly, though she still
harbored irritation at Saynan’s surprise start. Alísa rubbed Sesína’s hot scales,
whispering through the Illumination bond.
“He’s our teacher. It’s his job to catch us off-guard like that. Better now than in an
actual battle.”
“I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Saynan turned sapphire eyes on Harenn. “Your tight follow of Sesína’s twists
and turns was astounding. As you grow, however, it will become less and less an option.

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When following an opponent, try to stay above them rather than directly behind. It will
allow you more options even when you cannot keep up.”
Harenn’s deep brown eyes brightened with understanding.
“Good. Well done, all of you. That was the final match, I believe. Singer?”
Alísa glanced at the sun, comparing its position in the sky to Twi-Peak. She
tried to hold back her trepidation. “It is indeed.”
The dragons angled into a lazy descent, aiming for the others, who flew a
few hundred feet above the trees. Saynan widened the mind-link to bring
Koriana, Graydonn, and Komi into the conversation.
“By the Singer’s word, it’s time for our visit.”
Three pairs of eyes brightened at Saynan’s words, and happiness pulsed
from Graydonn.
“Falier says he is almost finished with his chores,” Graydonn said. “He’ll be at
the Hold shortly.”
A wave of relief ran through Alísa. The presence of the dragons would help
her feel comfortable in front of the people, but the more friendly faces there the
better.
Sesína pulled up alongside Koriana, the storm-gray dragoness dwarfing
Sesína. Alísa reached out specifically to her, though knowing the others in the
mind-link would all hear her too.
“Thank you for coming with me. I know it’s not going the be the most comfortable
thing for some of you.” She glanced at Harenn behind them. “But this is very
important.”
Koriana sent back an affirmative, while Harenn barely brightened his eyes
in acknowledgement. Alísa was dragging him into this—there might have been
a better dragon to choose in his stead, but the dancing grounds would be
cramped as it was. Bringing another large adult dragon instead of an adolescent
would be too much.
Sesína banked and made a lazy circle over the Hold. Twelve people
gathered already—Parsen, Selene, Namor, and Tenza among them. Alísa didn’t
see Falier or Kat.
Alísa braced herself as Sesína flapped to slow her momentum, ready for
the inevitable jarring of the landing. Instead, she felt Sesína’s sharp focus as the
dragoness set down with as much grace as possible before the spectators.
Alísa smirked to herself. Seems we all feel the need to perform.

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Dismounting, Alísa kept a hand on Sesína’s withers, while the ground
trembled with the other dragons’ landings. Koriana and Harenn settled behind
the others, their tails in the trees at the edge of the dancing grounds. The rest
landed near Sesína, their bright eyes on the people.
Alísa focused on the clan’s mind-link. “Lower to your bellies. You’ll look less
threatening.”
Alísa placed a gentle hand on Komi’s brown-scaled wither to lend the
people a sense of safety. Komi was the oldest of the adolescents, practically an
adult and close to Koriana’s size, but her bright green eyes retained the wide-
open curiosity of a younger dragon. Saynan was the largest dragon here today,
his head seven feet off the ground despite lying on his belly.
Alísa stared at him, taking in the creature she once thought only a beast.
The sharpness of his spines and talons, the angular shape of his face, and the
glow of his eyes would terrify her if she didn’t know him. How far she had come.
How far these villagers still had to go.
“Hello, everyone. Meet Saynan, K-K-K-Komi, and Harenn.” She gestured
to each dragon in turn. “Please, c-c-come and introduce yourselves. And
remember, d—dragons speak t-t-t-t-t-telepathically, but they aren’t d—delving
into your thoughts. I trust them with my mind and my life.”
Cautiously, the people approached. Eyes flitted between the dragons and
Namor, looking to the slayer for his reaction. Namor leaned on his staff with the
watchful eyes of a shepherd, perhaps trying to discern whether the dragons
before him were wolves, sheep, or fellow shepherds.
“Welcome, dragons of the Singer’s clan,” he said, his voice low and
authoritative. “I am Namor, son of Lamik, the chief slayer of this village.”
Saynan lowered his head closer to the humans’ level. “Thank you for the
invitation into your village, Slayer. I’ve flown over many human villages, but never
seen one this close.”
Alísa smiled. Subtle way to tell them he had never attacked a human
village.
Saynan indicated the Hold with his muzzle. “The way you construct caves for
yourselves is impressive.”
Parsen cleared his throat. “Thank you. We call them houses.”
Saynan tried the word. “Houses. Thank you. What is your name?”
“Parsen. I’m Falier’s father.”

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Saynan’s eyes brightened. “Falier-kin! Your son brings you great honor. He is
quick to listen and has proven himself in battle in a way perhaps no human ever has,
utilizing a mind-kin bond to strengthen his own psychic abilities. You should be proud.”
Sadness tilted Parsen’s eyes as he dipped his head in thanks. “I am.”
“I’ve never heard of a white dragon before,” a bald man said, caution in his
tone.
Alísa smiled. Growing up, she had seen rare white dragon scales in a few
pieces of jewelry, but had always assumed they were like an albino animal. In
truth, white dragons were their own separate race, one that lived in the highest
caves of the Prilune mountain range, far south of her father’s wayfaring
territory.
Saynan huffed a breath into the air, sending ice crystals swirling like
snowflakes over his audience and garnering murmurs of delight. The bald man
launched into questions about ice dragons, which Saynan answered with grace.
Taking courage from their conversation, Komi sent her own flurry of questions
about each person’s hair, or lack thereof.
On the other side of Alísa, Sesína and Graydonn entertained their own
small group of adults and one young teenage boy. No children, even though
many of them had been allowed to meet Sesína a week ago. Perhaps last night
had frightened off all of the parents, maybe even the children themselves.
“Hail, Falier!” Saynan’s words drew Alísa’s eyes toward the village. Falier
and two other elders emerged over the top of the hill near the Hold. “I wondered
when you would show.”
Falier grinned, slipping into the dragon’s telepathic conversation. “Some of
us have to work for a living.”
Emotions shifted in the gathered humans, moving closer to unease. Parsen
silently tapped a finger to his temple, looking pointedly at his son.
Falier cleared his throat, switching to vocal speech. “Good to see you all
here.”
Alísa let out a quiet sigh. If only Parsen knew how far his son had come—
what it meant for him to be able to automatically respond with telepathy.
“How long since you learned how to speak that way, Falier?” The elder
Meira gave an encouraging smile. Her husband, Garrick, gave her a look, as
though he thought speaking of telepathy a faux pas, but she ignored it. “If Kerrik
only taught you a basic shield, it must have been fairly recently?”

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Falier glanced at his father, answering with measured words. “Graydonn
started teaching me about a month ago.”
“What else have you learned?” Meira scoffed at Garrick’s elbow in her side.
“Don’t you start. I’ve always been curious about the slayers’ gift.”
Tenza crossed her arms. “You could have asked us any time, Meira.”
“Oh please, with that grump husband of yours?” Meira winked at Namor,
who seemed to take the title with pride.
Alísa’s smile faded as movement caught her eye. Yarlan crested the hill to
the Hold, a scowl already on his face. Like last night, he wore his sword and
warrior’s braids. His sharp eyes caught hers and she looked away, lightning
flooding her senses.
Stop it, she told herself. There’s no way he’s coming for a fight—no slayer can
take on six dragons.
Yet a greater fear swirled—one far more likely to come true and too raw to
assuage.
“He’s probably here to keep an eye on us.” Sesína stood behind her now, having
sensed Alísa’s growing anxiety. She growled quietly in her throat. “Most of the
people here are our allies. It won’t be a repeat of last night.”
Alísa breathed, glad that the Illumination bond didn’t force her to put
words to her inner turmoil. She should have been able to keep the crowd
pacified last night, even as they voiced their fears and concerns. Her father could
have done it.
“Is that the slayer, Alísa?” The buzz of Koriana’s telepathy ignited in their
minds. “The one who caused all the trouble?”
Alísa looked back at the dragoness rising to her feet. Anger simmered in
Koriana, though not yet a boil.
Alísa considered her response. While Koriana’s ire in her favor was a
comfort, she didn’t need the dragoness making things worse. “He’s the one who
spoke first, but the others’ fears weren’t fully based in him. He merely gave them the
courage to speak out, and scared me into silence.”
She cringed as the last thought slipped through. What kind of leader was
she if one man could steal her ability to speak?
A rumble resonated from Koriana’s throat. “Then you should face him,
Singer. Do not let fear in his presence become habit.”
Anxiety clenched in her stomach again. Koriana was probably right. She

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chanced a glance at Yarlan, who had settled back against the Hold wall, arms
crossed.
The sounds of Koriana lying back down turned Alísa’s gaze. At her
questioning glance, Koriana blinked slowly.
“If I physically stand behind you, it will eliminate your power. You must go to
him on your own. But” —a growl rumbled in her throat— “I will be watching.”
Sesína lashed her tail, disagreeing with Koriana. “I’ll go with you.”
Alísa shook her head. “I don’t want you anywhere near him. The same goes for
the other dragons. That will only antagonize him more.”
Sesína snorted her annoyance, then prodded Alísa’s shoulder. “He’s just a
loudmouthed bully, like that nasty Paili.” She pushed memories into Alísa’s mind
of the great red alpha dragoness who had tried to silence her, then of the dragons
who had followed her despite Paili’s attacks. “You’ve faced that and won before.”
Alísa blew out her breath. Yes, she had faced something similar before. But
Paili was a dragon, and Alísa’s song silenced her arguments. The same trick
wouldn’t work for Yarlan. A Dragon Singer’s songs were tuned to a dragon’s
heart, and they could see her own heart through them. They could still reject
her, but they could not deny the truth in her words.
Humans, on the other hand, could feel the power in her lyrics and see the
images she sent, but they could not know her through the songs in the same way
as dragons.
Yarlan’s gaze fell on her as she approached, and Alísa forced herself to
keep moving. Head high, lift your eyes, you are a chief.
Pretender. Her own mind argued back.
Komi thrummed behind her, and Yarlan’s eyes darted to the dragon,
becoming daggers. She had seen that look on slayers before, just before they
attacked with psychic spears.
“Wait!” Heart pounding, Alísa raised her hand. “It’s laughter, d—don’t—”
Many gazes shifted to her, including Yarlan’s. He raised a condescending
eyebrow.
“Do you truly think I would break the compromise?” He looked her up and
down. “I am no fool who lets panic reign in me.”
Alísa’s cheeks heated, his tone making the subtext perfectly clear. She had
let panic win, just like last night. She didn’t dare turn her eyes from Yarlan, for
fear the people would see shame written all over her face.

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Quiet speech began again as Parsen attempted to restart conversation.
Maker bless the holders. Alísa swallowed, trying to loosen her throat muscles as
Yarlan’s gaze still held her. Her voice came barely above a whisper.
“W—what are you d—doing here? I thought you were against the dragons
c-c-coming.”
“I am.” He looked back out over the dancing grounds. “But I am for Me’ran.
If any threat is near, I will be there.”
Love flowed with those words. Its psychic scent was deceptively light, but
the fact that she could feel it despite his telepathic shield spoke to its strength. If
only she could make him see that his people weren’t in danger, he could be a
great ally, like Namor.
“Run and play with your little monsters,” Yarlan said, watching Saynan
with unblinking eyes. “The truth always comes out, and eventually this dream
will reveal itself as the nightmare it is.”
Alísa fought not to shudder with the weight of his words. If she walked
away now, it would be on his terms, but she desperately wanted to leave. Needed
to leave. She had no chance with Yarlan as it currently stood, but there were
people here who perhaps could be swayed by her presence.
Without another word, Alísa returned to Sesína and Graydonn’s group.
“Where are you going?” Koriana’s hard voice entered her mind. “You are an
alpha—you do not bow to the likes of him.”
Alísa swallowed, trying to keep tears from forming at the dragoness’
disapproval. “Leaving might lower my standing in his eyes, but staying won’t raise it.”
“If you back down now, you will always back down.”
Alísa winced, unable to refute the statement.
“He’s not worth her time,” Sesína hissed. “Let her focus on the people actually
giving her a chance.”
Sesína opened a wing to Alísa, letting her stand in the comforting warmth
of her inner fire. The people in the circle, oblivious to their psychic words,
chatted amiably with Graydonn. A little wariness wafted around the circle, but
no true fear or anger.
Alísa relaxed. Good things were happening here.
She glanced back at Koriana, noting that Harenn watched as well. “Yarlan
loves his people. If there’s any chance to get to him, it’s through them.”

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The visit lasted until lunchtime, with a few people coming and going as time
passed. Alísa kept watchful eyes on each group, switching between them now
and again, but mostly allowing conversation to flow without her. Warmth filled
her heart each time laughter sprang up, the dragons and holders all doing their
part to make the small crowd comfortable. Only Yarlan never relaxed, his eyes
sending cold through Alísa’s heart each time they landed on her. Koriana spoke
rightly—Alísa was on a path that led only to fear when she encountered Yarlan.
And yet, what more could she do?
Alísa watched as the people dispersed, some to the Hold, some to their
homes. Falier came up beside her, his emotions a mixture of happiness and
tension as he looked out at the emptying dancing grounds.
“A good first day, I think.”
Alísa hummed in agreement. “Everyone handled themselves well.” Her
eyes landed on Yarlan still in his spot, glaring at the dragons. She swallowed.
“Except for me.”
Falier looked at her, an eyebrow raised. “You were great. You helped the
people feel comfortable around creatures twice their size.”
“I m—meant with Yarlan. I shouldn’t have—” Alísa shook her head,
choosing a different path. “I wish he hadn’t c-c-come. He would find out anyway,
with you and Selene spreading the w—word during deliveries, but if we had just
one day without him…”
She stopped as guilt wafted from Falier. He rubbed the back of his neck,
avoiding her eyes. “That might have been my fault. I kind of told Selene to make
sure he knew about the visit.”
“What?” Alísa turned to him. “W—why? You know he’s antagonistic. That
he would c-c-come j—just to make it harder on us. Why would you make sure
he was here t-t-today?”
Falier shook his head. “I thought it would be better than him finding out
when he came to the Hold and unexpectedly saw dragons, or finding out
second-hand. I figured it would be better to be up-front about it, as a show of
good faith. How long could we have hidden this from him anyway? A day,
maybe?”
“It would have been a good day.”

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Alísa looked down. She had to find a way to take her fear of Yarlan by the
reins before she lost control. But how?
“It still is a good day.” Falier’s emotions wavered, as though he tried to
convince himself as well. He touched her arm, making her realize she clutched
at her skirts. “I know it’s hard, but the alternative would have been worse. But
I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Alísa shook her head. “You were right. I need t-t-t—to get over it. I’ve faced
antagonistic dragons before—antagonistic humans are just a gust c—compared
to the hurricane.”
If only her heart would believe her words.
The dancing grounds were almost empty—only the dragons, Namor and
Tenza, Yarlan, and Selene remained. Selene waved goodbye to the dragons and
approached Alísa and Falier, a bright smile on her face.
“Are you staying for lunch, Alísa?”
Alísa sent a questioning look to Falier, then looked back at Selene as she
smirked at her brother.
“You mean he hasn’t invited you yet?” Selene elbowed Falier playfully.
“Some pursuer you are.”
“I was getting there.”
Alísa smiled, enjoying their banter. How different her life might have been
if the Maker had blessed her parents with another child.
“I’d love to stay. Let me t-t-tell the dragons they can g—go home.”
Alísa aimed for Namor and Tenza first. She jogged to catch up as they
walked the path to the village proper, calling their names to get their attention.
Stopping before them, Alísa dipped her head in respect. “Thank you for
being here t-today. I know it helped the p-people, and it was good for the
dragons to m—meet you.”
“It’s a strange world you live in,” Namor said, a light smile on his lips. “But
worthwhile. Are you coming back tomorrow?”
“As often as we can.”
“Good. Bring the same dragons as today. Let the people get used to these
before adding others.”
Tenza nodded. “You did well today.”
Alísa’s gaze lowered, her reaction to Yarlan forefront in her mind. She
pulled it back to Tenza, whose eyes had never left her. The woman seemed to

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see right through her, regarding her with gentle scrutiny.
“Even so.” Tenza looked toward Yarlan. “He isn’t going to leave until the
dragons do.”
Alísa didn’t follow her gaze, rubbing at her skirt. “Thank you again.”
She turned back to the dragons. Falier stood to the side with Graydonn,
speaking telepathically. The rest of the dragons looked to her, and at the first
notion of Alísa’s request, Sesína connected her to them.
“You were so good with the people.” Alísa looked to each of the dragons in
turn, including even Harenn. He had been civil, even if he hadn’t jumped in like
the others. “Thank you all.”
“They were a delight. Though that slayer” —Saynan pointed his muzzle at
Yarlan— “I don’t know what to do with him. I tried to engage him, but his psychic
shield is up. He can’t hear a word from any of us.”
Alísa sighed. “I know. I don’t think that will change anytime soon.”
“It’s offensive,” growled Harenn. “Even though we have the ability, dragons
rarely, if ever, block out telepathy entirely. If we don’t want to be part of a conversation,
we leave.”
“He’s really scared of us, isn’t he?” Komi cocked her head. “Was there something
we could have done better?”
Harenn huffed. “He’s a typical slayer, full of hatred and literally closed-minded.
The one holding the branch was fine, though I wonder how many dragons’ blood is on
his hands. At least Slayer’s steam in the mouth shows he hasn’t killed any of us.”
Defensiveness rose in Alísa. ‘Slayer,’ the way Harenn’s mind conveyed it,
meant Falier.
“What does that mean? Steam in his mouth?”
“An idiom,” Saynan said, far less troubled by Harenn’s words. “It refers to
young dragons who cannot breathe fire yet. I would argue, though, that taking part in
killing Rorenth certainly counts as fire.”
Harenn dipped his head in a move reminiscent of a shrug. “Is he planning
to stare at us until we leave?”
Alísa kept herself from looking back at Yarlan. “Yes. I think it’s time for you
to go home.”
Komi cocked her head. “You’re staying?”
“For a little while. I’m going to have lunch with the holders.”
“Oo, the holders, huh?” Sesína bumped her shoulder. “Sounds serious.”

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Alísa rolled her eyes. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to come home.”
As she spoke, a change in the clan-link indicated Falier and Graydonn
joining the conversation.
“When you’re ready? I guess I’ll see you at midnight, then.” Sesína looked up at
the sky. “Wait no, it’s a Hold—you can sleep here if you stay that late. Don’t wake me
up.”
“I feel so loved.”
“Actually,” Falier said, “Graydonn and I are planning to go flying later. I know
you just trained, but after the long day it’s been already, I thought it would be nice to
just fly. Clear our heads, you know?”
The dragons agreed with Falier’s assessment. As they prepared to take off
for the mountain, Alísa tried to assess Falier’s emotions. When they had spoken
earlier, he had seemed fine, but now she felt pain in him. A feeling of betrayal.
Sesína pranced up to her, drawing her attention back to the present. “I
guess you won’t have to wait till tomorrow to see me after all. Let me know when you’re
ready.”
Alísa smiled. “I will.”
Sesína gave a grunt, then bounded after the others, launching into the air
with the spike of joy she always had with wind under her wings. Alísa breathed
it in, savoring its lightness before breathing it back out and turning to Falier. She
searched him with her eyes as he plastered on an easy smile.
“Lunch?”
“In a minute. How was your m—morning?”
“Fine.”
Alísa raised an eyebrow.
He sighed. “Sometimes I hate that you’re an empath. It’s like with Selene
and her sound-lights—you both always know when I’m lying.”
Alísa looked down. “I’m s—sorry. You don’t have t-t-to—”
“No, don’t be sorry. You ask because you care—I know that, and I’m glad
of it. If anything, I’m kind of jealous I can’t read emotions as well as you.”
Falier scuffed his foot against the ground. “This morning was hard. People
have never been so distant from me. Even Ma—Marris” —he stumbled in
speech, as though he had started saying the name incorrectly— “and Sendi, two
ladies who have been like grandmothers to me. They think I’m abandoning
Me’ran, choosing the dragons over them. I can’t get them to see that part of why

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I’m choosing the dragons is to protect them. It’s because I love them, not because
you’re replacing them.”
Alísa pressed her lips together. He was experiencing this because of her. If
she had handled last night better—refuted Yarlan’s words, not freaked out and
let her stammer get the better of her—his people would see him as a hero. He
killed the dragon threatening their lives. He stood in Yarlan and Namor’s place.
He had the bravery to befriend dragons.
“I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”
Falier blew out a tense breath. “I pushed through it. That’s all we can do
right now, right? Keep moving and prove ourselves by our actions.”
“That sounds exhausting.” She smiled through her sadness and stepped
into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “But I’m with you.”
Falier returned the embrace, a small space of happiness growing in the
midst of his heartache. He had helped in her struggles so many times. It made
her heart full to give back to him.
“Thanks, Líse.”
She squeezed tighter and released him, smiling up as she pulled away. He
held on a little longer, a brow quirking.
“Well, look at that. I think I caught you.”
Alísa snorted, pulling back. “P-please. That was a f—f—friendly embrace,
n—n—nothing more.”
Heat filled her cheeks. She was bad enough at flirting. Did her stammer
have to get worse every time too?
Falier let her go. “Careful—Graydonn said he’d start teaching me
empathic sensing soon. Then I’ll have proof when you lie like that.”
Alísa laughed, her eyes wandering. They landed on Yarlan, stopping her
laughter cold. He still stood beside the Hold, watching them, arms folded,
scrutinizing their every move from the shadows.
Falier followed her gaze. Mirth fell from him, replaced by ire. When he
turned back to her, a calm mask covered any outward signs of his true feelings.
He offered her an arm, positioned so that he would stand between her and
Yarlan as they walked, and switched to telepathy.
“Come on, let’s get lunch and go flying.”
The comfort of his presence made her thoughts flow easily. “Above the
worries and cares of the world. Until it’s time to come back.”

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“Until it’s time to come back.”

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7
PAILI’S WRATH
“Can dragons drink tea?”
Alísa startled at the question, turning to look at Sesína. “What?”
Sesína laid on her belly with her head eye-level to a girl of about seven
years. The girl bounced on her toes, black hair swaying over her tan skin and
green dress. Behind her, a man with similar features chuckled and shook his
head.
Sesína raised an eye-ridge at Alísa. “You heard me. Can dragons drink tea?”
Alísa excused herself from the group with Saynan and Koriana and
approached Sesína. She passed Graydonn and Falier, who were trying to
include Harenn in a conversation with a couple of Falier’s musician friends.
Only five dragons had come to the village today, since Komi had bruised
her wing in combat-training earlier. Saynan said the bruising would be gone in
a couple of days, but it was far easier for her to fly straight to the cave than to
ascend from the visit, so she had gone home.
The little girl’s eyes widened at Alísa. She stopped bouncing and clasped
her hands in front of her, attempting to appear well-behaved.
“Dragon Singer Alísa, can Sesína come to my house for my next tea party?
Please?”
Her brother, about ten years old, ran up. “If Marri gets to have a dragon at
her stupid tea party, I want a dragon to come play kickball on my team!”
The father cocked an eyebrow at his son. “Marri’s request was full of
respect. The dragons, Alísa, and your sister all deserve it. Try again.”
The boy’s shoulders slumped, and he gave a loud sigh. Then he
straightened and looked at Alísa.
“Can a dragon come play with me, too? My friends will be so jealous if

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there’s a dragon on my team.”
Alísa’s smile grew. After a few days of dragon visits, only Marri and her
brother had been allowed to come thus far. Maybe what the other parents
needed in order to feel comfortable would be a smaller, activity-based visit like
a tea party or a ball game. Taking a dragon to the village square still sent anxiety
through Alísa, but perhaps they could do this at the dancing grounds too.
“I think we can arrange a play-date here.” She looked up. “If it’s all right
with your f—father?”
Sesína’s eyes brightened and she crawled forward on her belly like an
excited puppy. “Yes! Please?”
“I don’t know,” he said, rubbing his chin and looking at Marri. “We might
need a bigger teacup.”
Marri looked at Sesína as though just now realizing how big the dragoness
was. “She could use a bucket?”
“I’ve seen buckets at the Hold’s stables. I’ll steal—err, ‘borrow’ one.” Sesína
looked at Alísa. “Can dragons drink tea?”
Alísa giggled. “How should I know? I’m n—not—”
A sound like thunder rattled through the sky. Sesína jerked her head high
and stood, looking west as more sounds echoed the first.
Dragons. And they weren’t hers.
Villagers gasped, falling back as the other dragons stood, every eye turning
to the sky. The dragons growled, and fear rose in the people. Yarlan’s sword slid
from its sheath in the shadow of the Hold. Marri’s father grabbed his children’s
hands, pulling them back as Sesína moved.
“What’s happening?”
“I d—don’t know.” She looked to the dragons. “Graydonn?”
“I wasn’t searching for draconic presences.” Graydonn lifted his wings. “I sense
at least six, coming fast.”
“Singer!” Harenn trotted up, his brown eyes dimmed with worry. “I recognize
that voice. It’s my sister Galerra, one of my parents’ flight-leaders. If she’s coming, it can
only mean trouble.”
Alísa’s heart raced. Paili and Tsamen, invading her territory? She looked
between Harenn and Saynan, two of the five dragons who had come to her from
Paili and Tsamen’s clan.
“Why would they come here? Our border is far-removed from theirs.”

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Saynan rumbled in his throat. “Knowing Paili, this is an attempt to remind you
and her deserters of her strength. A power-play.”
Alísa clenched her fists, remembering how the alpha female had taunted
and fought for every scrap of control when last they met. She didn’t need this,
one more fight to face, one more thing to scare the villagers. Falier stood among
them now, working to calm them after the startling movements of the dragons.
She needed to do that too—let them know the situation, then get her dragons
into the air.
Eldra Branni, give me strength.
Alísa moved closer to the people, Sesína coming up behind her. Multiple
people spoke at once, some to each other, a couple to her or Falier, terror in their
eyes as they stared at the dragons.
Please don’t let this undo all we’ve done!
Alísa raised her hands above her head in a silent call for attention. A few,
including Falier, looked at her. When others didn’t, Namor quieted them,
barking their names.
“There’s another d—d—d—” Great Maker, not now! Please!
“I’ve got you,” Sesína said, connecting her telepathically to the humans.
Alísa pushed gratitude to the dragoness. “There are other dragons coming. We
will try to cut them off before they arrive. Get to the dragon shelter, just in case.”
Alísa ran to Koriana, pulling herself up by two spines as Parsen gave
further instructions to the people. Sesína cut off the humans, leaving only the
clan’s mind-link in the astral plane. Alísa reached for it, feeling each of the
dragons and Falier, all a mixture of worry, courage, and determination. She
latched onto the latter two.
“Launch!”
Koriana took off so quickly Alísa barely felt the coiling of her muscles.
After a few powerful wing-strokes, she caught an updraft and spiraled toward
the clouds. In the west, seven shapes stood out black against the clear blue sky.
“Koriana, is there any way we can avoid a conflict?”
Koriana hummed. “None carry a truce boulder, and they have not asked
permission to fly in our territory even though they can see us now. They are here for a
fight.”
Alísa gritted her teeth. This was supposed to be her clan’s place of respite.
No dragon coveted the forest. Me’ran was supposed to be safe.

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“Singer,” Harenn said, a tremor of fear in his voice that felt out of place. “Let
me go back to the cave and alert the others. I’m the fastest dragon here.”
Alísa pushed away Sesína’s indignation at the claim. She would rather
send Sesína—get her far from the fight—but Sesína would argue and Harenn
was apparently willing. It would mean her numbers would dwindle to four, but
if they could stay on the defensive until the clan got here, they should be okay.
They had faced worse odds.
“Be quick.”
Relief coursed through Harenn as he turned toward the mountain. It
clarified something about his request, but she couldn’t dwell on that now.
“Form up and roar a challenge,” Alísa ordered the rest of the dragons. “Show
them our might.”
Koriana roared before Alísa finished speaking, surging to take the lead.
More voices joined her battle cry, a song of different tones united in purpose.
Alísa’s heart thumped in her chest, their courage building up inside of her.
“Evade as much as you can until the others get here, but if they press toward the
village, stop them.”
Affirmatives came through, each dragon declaring their obedience with
feelings rather than words. When the incoming dragons were close enough she
could see their colors, Alísa reached out to Sesína.
“Connect me to their head dragon.”
“Done.”
Sesína’s tone was low, nearly a growl, all play gone as she prepared to fight.
Motherly instinct rose in Alísa—a fierce need to protect the hatchling she had
Illuminated. She pushed it away and focused on the task at hand. Sesína had
battled before.
Channeling Sesína’s confidence and Koriana’s deep strength, Alísa
challenged the intruder. “Galerra! What does Tsamen want here? The lands past the
Nissen are under my protection.”
“As if you could hold them with your pathetic clan,” the red dragoness sneered.
“Tsamen and Paili don’t care for your forests, but my alphas do not take kindly to
traitors and clan-stealers!”
Anger pulsed through Alísa. She grabbed hold of it, letting her need to
protect her clan fuel her. She would fight for them and Me’ran to her final
breath.

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“Attack!”
With a roar sparking flames, Koriana charged at Galerra. Alísa gripped
hard as Koriana dove to avoid a grapple at the last second. Sesína continued her
attack behind them, raking talons over the back of Galerra’s wing. Graydonn
and Falier circled in the opposite direction, taking them out of view. Above them
all, Saynan shot a volley of burning cold at the dragon closest to him.
Alísa sang her strength song, her voice wobbling in pitch as Koriana
dipped and banked. Power flowed from her, first in astral mists, then a swirling
river that flooded the mind-link. Each of her dragons’ essence pulsed at the
edges of her power, and as her strength flowed into them, their courage flowed
back into her.
Wind pummeled Alísa as Koriana banked hard and shot for an enemy blue
dragon. It pulled up, talons extended to grapple. Tightening her legs against the
shifting scales, Alísa braced for a collision. Once again, Koriana didn’t take the
challenge, twisting from the gleaming talons and aiming for the blue’s wing. Her
tail struck the outer edge, tail-spine ripping a bloody gash. The dragon faltered,
but its roar held more fury than pain.
“Koriana, above you!”
The dragoness dove at Sesína's warning, and the wind yanked at Alísa’s
hair and clothes. Pain lanced through Alísa’s mind as talons latched into
Koriana’s tail. The dragoness roared in outrage, but as she tried to pull away, the
other dragon tightened its grip.
Alísa twisted, shouting to create a mind-choke. Her power pulled from the
clan-link and shot for the dragon’s mind. The psychic collision jarred her like a
physical punch would jar her arm. She didn’t pull back, continuing her call and
spreading her power over the surface of the dragon’s mind. The dragon slowed
as its mind grappled with hers, but it didn’t let go of Koriana, instead slowing
her down with it.
The attacker roared as another’s psychic power speared into it. Falier! The
pain he shot into the dragon’s mind made it loosen its grip on Koriana’s tail, and
Alísa completed the choke. Their attacker fell toward the treetops. Alísa didn’t
let go until it had disappeared in the boughs.
Alísa laid a hand on Koriana’s hot scales, wincing as pain raked over her
own mind. “Will you be okay?”
Koriana’s voice was tired but steady. “I will not be able to make sharp turns.

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Watch my back. I’ll get us through this.”
Galerra roared in fury and speared for Koriana, two other dragons
disengaging to converge on them. Alísa’s dragons followed behind. Sesína
zipped past one and screamed a battle cry as she flung herself at its head,
knocking it off course. Another took its place.
Alísa switched to a binding song again, reaching for the dragon closest
behind them. It squirmed against her hold, slipping from her like oil and
shooting an arrow of psychic pain back at Alísa. It seared her mind like flames
and she screamed, turning the cry of pain into another arrow. The dragon
slowed as it focused on the psychic realm over the physical, Galerra coming up
fast to take its place.
Alísa faltered. Should she finish binding the lagging dragon? Or switch to
Galerra?
Another mind entered the space as tiny, ferocious barks filled Alísa’s ears.
“Singer!”
Dreki! Relief swept through Alísa as they attacked the mind of the dragon
she had been binding, using their combined mental strength to close over it.
Alísa released her hold and switched her focus to Galerra. With a battle cry, she
sent a psychic arrow at her. Galerra shielded herself just in time, raising and
lowering her defense so quickly that she barely slowed.
“Hang on!”
Koriana’s shrill warning made Alísa face front again, just in time for
Koriana to dive under the talons of another dragon. She made for the treetops,
Galerra still on her tail. Her pain throbbed through Alísa’s mind, but no fear
accompanied it. It settled Alísa enough to sing again and offer up whatever
strength Koriana lacked as her blood spilled over the forest.
The black dragon Koriana had just evaded followed with Galerra,
dropping low to the trees with Koriana, while Galerra flew above and behind.
Alísa attempted again to bind Galerra in a mind-choke. The dragoness shook
her head as though physical motion could free her of a psychic attack. Galerra
formed her own psychic powers into a spear, cutting through Alísa’s choke.
Alísa moaned in pain and pushed harder. She had to stop her, before—
“We are here, Singer!” Faern, Komi’s father. Alísa looked east and saw the
rest of the clan quickly closing the distance, Faern—the largest of them—at the
front. Praise the Maker.

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With white-hot talons, Galerra’s mind latched onto Alísa’s attack. Alísa
cried out as pain and anger flooded over her, Galerra’s voice ringing loud in her
mind.
“Do not think this is over, Dragon Singer. Had you left our clan alone, you would
have been safe. Now you will have to fight to hold onto even this pathetic existence of
yours. We can spare fighters—can you?”
Alísa growled against the pain. “Your mother is petty and cannot abide that her
dragons have their own free will. Is this what you want, Galerra? To be a spare
fighter?”
Pain pulsed into Alísa’s mind once more, then a stretching sensation she
had never experienced before. Cold panic swept through her as she strove
against Galerra, but she couldn’t sever the connection before the dragoness
forced herself into Alísa’s clan-link.
“We will return. When you tire of playing at peace alongside this false Bria and
carrying vermin on your backs, there is a clan of true dragons ready to accept you.” Her
tone turned mocking. “Even wayward princes may be forgiven.”
Galerra pulled her presence back and veered west. She trumpeted, the call
low and commanding, and her dragons disengaged, following their leader.
“Shall we pursue, Singer?” Saynan said, circling above them.
“Pursue!” The dreki barked, the sound rattling in Alísa’s mind.
Alísa set a hand to her head and slowed her breathing. “No. They are done
for today—I caught that just before Galerra broke off the connection. We’ll need to set
a watch for when they come back.”
“With your leave,” Koriana said, fatigue quieting her tone, “I can assign scouts
so there is always someone in the air.”
Alísa rubbed a hand over Koriana’s scales. Ever a dragoness of action, even
with her tail dripping blood from multiple deep gashes. “Let’s get you back so we
can tend to your wound.”
Koriana made a clicking sound in her throat as she banked for the cave.
“I’ve had worse. Fire will be sufficient to cleanse and cauterize.”
Alísa nodded, then sought the dreki in both the mind-link and the sky.
“Thank you for coming to our aid. We might not have lasted without you.”
She found their forms as they came closer, their wing-lights dimming as
their minds separated into individuals. She blinked a few times, wondering if
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perhaps fifteen of them, not the thirty or forty she normally saw in battle.
“Laen, did you all just happen to be in the area? Or did you fly from home?”
The sensation of rain dripping off trees that accompanied Laen’s essence
cooled Alísa’s throbbing mental pain. “Home.”
Odd. Perhaps the rest of the dreki had been out hunting and didn’t hear
the sounds of battle. Dreki were fiercely protective of their homeland against
invading dragons. Yet another reason why dragons never came to the forests.
Another reason Alísa thought the clan would be safe here.
Alísa looked back to the retreating enemy. They flew in a more westerly
direction than she expected. The Prilune mountains lay far to the south. Perhaps
Tsamen and Paili had taken some of Rorenth’s old territory.
Graydonn flew alongside Koriana, touching the tip of his wing to hers.
Falier looked back at Koriana’s tail, then up to Alísa.
“You all right?”
She fought not to wince at Koriana’s pain. “Relatively.”
Falier looked down and around them. “There are a couple villages near here
that might have heard the battle. Maybe the forest deadened the sounds, but if not…”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. The wayfarers mostly patrolled the
border of the forests at the Nissen river, many miles from here, but frightened
villagers could send messengers to them, bringing a clan of forty-plus warriors
against the supposed dragon threat.
Alísa must have made a face, because Falier slapped on an optimistic smile.
“I’m sure it will be fine. Even if someone sent a message to them today, it would take
weeks of stopping to check on other villages before they made it to Me’ran. By then, we’ll
be ready.”
Alísa blew out a breath, far less sure. At the current rate of people coming
to meet the dragons, it would be months before Me’ran would be ready to
support her before the wayfarers. She needed to gain more trust. Maybe the
dragons could do more for Me’ran—hunting for them, perhaps? No. Even if it
weren’t difficult for the dragons to hunt in the forests, such an act would harm
the livelihood of any hunters or meat farmers—not the best way to make friends.
Something else, then.
“We did just keep a clan of dragons from attacking them,” Sesína offered,
whispering through the Illumination bond. “Maybe this attack by Galerra was
actually a good thing for us—the villagers saw our new clanmates in action.”

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“Maybe.” Alísa hugged herself as Koriana’s pain throbbed in her again.
“Koriana needs to get back to the cave. Why don’t you take Graydonn and Falier and
let the people know they’re safe now. Be my eyes.”
Sesína sent a pleased affirmative and turned her attention to Graydonn,
the two of them veering toward the village.
One of Koriana’s spines pressed into Alísa’s back as she and the rest of the
clan angled upward, heading for the new cave. A week ago, when it was just
Alísa and three dragons, a little cave closer to the forest floor had been home.
Now, however, the clan required a more spacious cavern.
Alísa shivered as the wind whipped over her, tugging at her hair and skirt
until Koriana swept through the craggy hole where the two peaks split off.
Darkness surrounded them, the bit of light at the entrance too small and too
high off the floor of the cave to do much good. Dragons could see in the darkness
of the cave, but with a human alpha they had to make a few adjustments. With
a flash of flames from Komi’s maw, a small pile of wood ignited and the shadows
of landing dragons flickered on the ruffled cave walls.
Alísa sucked in a breath as Koriana stopped on the upper landing, the
dragoness’ injured tail smacking against the stone floor. She slid down the scaly
shoulder as Koriana lowered to her belly, getting out of the way so Koriana could
curl her neck to begin cauterizing her wound.
“I’m sorry, Singer!” Komi connected to her, guilt coursing through her mind.
“If I had been more careful in training today, I could have called my father through our
Illumination bond and there wouldn’t have been a fight.”
Alísa shook her head. “No one could have predicted this, and any of us might
have gotten hurt in training. It’s not your fault.”
“I know, I just—” Komi scratched the ground and growled. “It was a
hatchling-level mistake, rolling when Graydonn was that close to me.”
“And if he were here, he would be taking the blame for your injury. Rest easy,
Komi. It’s no one’s fault except Paili and the dragons who follow her.”
Komi’s feelings of guilt didn’t recede, but she slapped her tail on the
ground in the draconic sign of agreement. That would have to be good enough.
There were other dragons who needed their alpha’s attention right now.
Tremors of fear guided Alísa’s eyes to the first. Many draconic emotions
crowded her in this space, but hatchling emotions had always been more potent.
Alísa picked her way over the uneven cave floor, following Saynan to his

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mate, Aree, and their young charge. Aree nestled against a curve in the cave
walls, her and Saynan’s opalescent egg settled between her forelegs. Rather than
folding in a rested position, one of her sapphire wings draped over her side to
shelter a hatchling from the eyes of the other dragons.
Iila was perhaps only two weeks old. Her Illumination bond to her mother
had been ripped from her in the course of the battle against Rorenth’s clan.
Whether her mother had been killed by one of Alísa’s clan or Karn’s, Alísa didn’t
know. She hoped the latter and that Iila’s mother’s killer wasn’t one of the
dragons in the cave with them now, but Iila’s reluctance to interact with the
other dragons in the clan seemed to indicate the former. They had done as they
must to save the lives of innocents, but between Iila and the two eggs now left
without parents, the aftermath was heartbreaking. Iila had barely eaten since
they had taken her in, and with the way her fear coated the air, today’s attack
had very likely resurfaced terrible memories.
Alísa slowed her breathing as she neared, taking in the hatchling’s distress
and allowing it space. It only became more wild if she fought it, and, unlike with
humans, she couldn’t escape it by pulling her powers in close.
Aree’s eyes dimmed. “She spoke with me briefly this morning, her first time
initiating with me. But when Harenn brought news of the attackers, she panicked. I had
to force calm over her so she wouldn’t hurt herself. I fear any progress we’ve made has
been lost.”
Saynan nuzzled Aree’s cheek. “Do not despair. If anyone can make her feel
safe, it is you.”
Alísa made eye-contact with Aree and spoke aloud for Iila’s benefit. “M—
may I see her?”
Aree made a light clicking sound in her throat, then pulled her wing back
just enough that Alísa could see Iila’s shining cobalt eyes in the darkness. Alísa
knelt.
“Iila,” she whispered, “precious one, you are safe. We fought them off and
are setting up scouts. They won’t get this close to our cave again.”
Iila snorted steam, a draconic negative, and curled up in a tighter ball,
hiding her face under a silver wing. Up close, Alísa could feel fluctuations in
Iila’s emotions. Fear dominated, but within it churned sorrow, anger, and
determination—a dizzying combination.
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words could help Iila right now, and she needed to process her sorrow. All they
could do was give her some form of stability and be there when she was ready.
With a few words of assurance, Alísa took her leave of Iila and Saynan’s
family. One other dragon needed his alpha’s attention. This one would take
balance—a careful reprimand and a harsh truth spoken in love. Part of her
wished another might speak it for her, but she was the alpha.
Her eyes found Harenn resting in one of the crevices in the cave’s walls,
only his head, chest, and forelegs visible. He lifted his head as she approached,
his eye-lights wavering.
“Singer, is there something you need?”
Alísa slumped back against the wall beside him. “Thank you for going to get
the others. Your sister’s troop were far more coordinated than Rorenth’s; I didn’t know
if we would win before the others arrived.”
Harenn blinked slowly, the draconic sign of acknowledgement. “Those in
the cave hadn’t even heard the roar of threat, but they responded without hesitation.”
Alísa nodded. “I have a good clan. Though they may not be the best of friends,
they trust each other already.”
“We have you to thank for that.” Harenn straightened his neck to look out at
the rest of the cave. “We follow the Singer, so our purposes are aligned.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Alísa looked at Harenn. “But trust also takes honesty, and
you weren’t entirely honest with me, were you?”
His eyes dimmed and he didn’t look at her.
“You didn’t leave because you were the fastest of us,” she prompted. “I felt your
fear and assumed it was a fear that we would lose the fight if we didn’t get help. But
that wasn’t what you feared at all, was it?”
Harenn hummed in his throat, agitation rising. “Trust doesn’t mean I reveal
my shame to the whole clan.”
Alísa kept her tone steady. This would be tricky. “No, it does not. But when it
affects the clan, I cannot just let it be. You are indeed one of my fastest flyers. Faern isn’t.
So when the reinforcements arrived, why was he at the front instead of you?”
Talons scraped against stone. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“No?” Alísa straightened. “Look at me, Harenn.”
He didn’t move, muscles taut underneath his scales. Alísa fought not to
fidget or wipe her hands on her skirts. Though the memory of him pained her,
she imagined her father standing in command over his warriors. Then, slowly,

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Harenn curved his neck around. Guilt flickered in his dimmed eyes.
“I know what it is to go up against your family,” she said. “To save Iila and the
others, I faced my father, uncle, and former betrothed.”
The scene rose in her mind, painful and visceral enough that Harenn likely
saw it too. Her father at the mouth of a cave, L’non and Kallar behind him. His
fear for her. The determination in his eyes as he moved to protect her, and then
the betrayal that replaced it as she mind-choked him.
Alísa swallowed. “Our situations are different, but not so much as you might
suppose. I was terrified when I saw them, but my clan was in danger, and I did what I
must.” She looked out at the dragons scattered throughout the cave. “Galerra said
this was only the first attack, so I need to know—can this clan count on you to protect
them?”
Harenn’s eyes dimmed further as he followed her gaze, shame coming off
him in waves. “Yes, Singer. I’m sorry. I will not fail them again.”
The truth of his words settled in Alísa’s mind. “Good.” She paused a
moment, his emotions resonating with her own. “I know it isn’t easy, leaving your
family. If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
Harenn’s eyes brightened ever so slightly in acknowledgement, then faded
again. Sensing his desire to be alone, Alísa pressed back out into the cave. The
clan gathered in small groups, the largest gathering situated at the fire. Sesína,
Falier, and Graydonn were there as well.
At the fire, Alísa sat between Sesína and Rayna, an emerald dragoness
nursing a wing ripped through in the battle with Rorenth. Rayna’s pain had
lessened significantly in the last week, making it easier for Alísa to be near her,
but full healing was still a month away.
Between her forelegs, Rayna held the two orphaned eggs, one blue and one
a tawny brown. Alísa reached out and stroked each of their shells, feeling their
timid sadness seep through her fingers. Without their biological parents, they
needed to bond to another dragon before they hatched. A hatchling without an
Illumination bond would not survive more than a few hours. Each day a
different dragon held them in hopes that one of them might choose a surrogate
parent, but so far no bonds had formed.
Alísa swallowed against her emotions. There was so much hurt all mixed
up together in this space. Wounded dragons, eggs that needed new parent-
bonds, a traumatized hatchling, terrified villagers—they didn’t need border

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skirmishes to further complicate matters.
“It might not be as bad as you think.” Sesína nudged Alísa with her muzzle as
she whispered through the bond. “When we gave Me’ran the all-clear, a bunch of
them thanked us for fighting. Yarlan was awful, as usual, and there were others who
stayed far away from us, but they can’t deny what we did today.”
Alísa kept her eyes on the eggs. “I wish I had your and Falier’s optimism.”
Sesína gave a light purr. “That’s why we’re here. How did it go with Harenn?”
Alísa briefly relayed the conversation. “I hope I handled it well.”
“I’m sure you did,” Sesína said. “You’re good at things like that.”
“If only I were good at handling things like Yarlan, too.”
“Some people can’t be convinced. You can’t change everyone’s minds.”
“No.” Alísa sighed. “But when the minds I can’t change are better at influencing
others than I am? What am I supposed to do then?”
Sesína shrugged a shoulder, an awkward motion for a dragon. “Let your
actions prove you, just like us protecting the village. They’ll see you—see us—for who
we really are.” Her eyes brightened. “And by that I, of course, mean the best dragon-
human clan ever, with the most amazing alpha and—frankly—a rather fabulous beta.”
Alísa allowed a chuckle. “And which beta would that be?”
“Koriana. She’s rather fabulous. I’m fabulousness incarnate.”
“Of course.” Alísa bumped shoulders with her affectionately.
She turned her attention to the others around the fire, Sesína connecting
her into the conversation. Dragons thrummed and Falier laughed at something
she had missed, but she smiled nonetheless. Troubles surrounded her—that
much was certain—but so did life. Tomorrow she would press onward into the
mess once more, for the sake of children who wanted tea parties and kickball,
and for dragonets yet unhatched. She was made to bring humans and dragons
together. She just had to cling to that knowledge, cling to that hope, and keep
moving.

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8
CÉILÍ CONFRONTATION
Alísa’s heart pounded as the tempo of the céilí music increased for the third time
this song. Parsen spun her to the right, and she grinned as her skirt flared. Kat’s
words became barely intelligible as she called the quick steps. The fiddler’s
melody flew higher and somehow the drummers kept up the complex rhythmic
pattern.
Parsen spun her again before they separated. Alísa chanted the next steps
in her head, hoping she could recall them well enough to not crash into the other
dancers.
Advance past Parsen. Retreat around the other side. Side-sevens. Swing with the
next lead. Side-sevens. Spin with Parsen. Five claps, which means…
The caller and fiddler dropped out as the tempo of the final chorus sped as
quickly as the percussionists could go. Squeals and laughter echoed all around
as dancers stumbled through the steps. Alísa nearly missed hooking elbows with
the next lead, but he caught her and swung her back toward Parsen for the final
spin.
Laughter and applause erupted from the dancers, most turning to
acknowledge the skill of the musicians. Alísa sought Falier, seated with the other
drummer beside the bonfire. Their eyes locked and she lifted her hands higher,
giving her applause directly to him. His grin widened, and he gave her an
exaggerated bow, flourishing with his hand.
“Nicely done.” Parsen clapped Alísa on the shoulder. A teasing smile lifted
his lips. “You only tripped twice that dance. Though it wouldn’t hurt if you
smiled more.”
Alísa smirked, sure that she’d tripped more than that. “You’ll have to p-p-
pick one or the other. C-concentration, or smiles and missteps.”

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“What, you can’t smile while you concentrate?”
“That skill seems to elude me.” Alísa dipped her head graciously. “Thank
you for the d—dance.”
Parsen returned the gesture. “I’ll try and give you another before the night
is out.”
Alísa smiled, then searched for faces she recognized as the crowd swirled
around her. Perhaps someone who had danced with her before or who had
come to visit with the dragons in the last week.
Her eyes caught on the man she had swung with in the last dance. His
skimmed past in apathy. She found a butcher she had danced with weeks ago,
but he turned away. Others she recognized as friends, but they already had
partners. An elbow brushed her arm, and she turned to see a man who shook
his head as though she had been the one to bump into him. Behind him, a
woman glared at her, the couple’s negative emotions souring the excitement in
the air.
Pulling her empathy in more tightly, Alísa walked out of the mass of people
for the third time this céilí. At all the other céilís, it had been difficult to get a
break from dancing. Now it seemed she was a less desirable partner—no more
an exciting visitor from the west, but a pariah. Even amidst the smiles and
laughter, the astral plane held tension.
“You sure you don’t want me to come keep you company?” Sesína’s sleepy
presence trickled into her mind. “I’m allowed in the village without an escort.”
“I would love your company, but no. This is their night. I want them to have it.”
“I’m not threatening. I’m—”
“—a dragon with glowing eyes, many pointy things, and an inability to sit still?”
Sesína hesitated. “Can I come if I promise to sit still?”
Alísa shook her head, though the dragoness couldn’t see it. “Not this time.
Get some rest—Saynan trained you hard today.”
A flash of light caught her eye. A smile lighted on Alísa’s lips as she gazed
at pairs of tiny glowing eyes hiding in the trees.
Jealousy briefly ran through Sesína, followed by resignation. “Okay. Tell the
dreki I said to keep you company, and if they don’t I’ll… I’ll… Make up a good threat for
me. I’m going to sleep now.”
Alísa giggled, pointing her boots to the dreki. “Good night, dear one.”
Stopping at the edge of the dancing grounds, Alísa looked up into the

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colorful eyes. Like with the battle against Galerra, there seemed to be only about
fifteen dreki in attendance.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
A trilling chirp, and a drek with red eyes flew from the branches toward
Alísa. The evening sun revealed Rann, his ruby-eyed baby clinging to his back.
Rann twisted around Alísa in two graceful circles before stopping in front of her,
Laen with the purple-eyed baby coming out to join him.
“You brought the little ones!”
Rann came closer, establishing a telepathic link to Alísa.
“Pet?”
Alísa grinned and reached out, brushing a finger first over Rann’s mane,
then the baby drek’s bare neck. The little drek purred, his wings stretched out
over his father’s. Alísa looked to Laen and saw the little purple female similarly
mimicking Laen’s wing movements.
Flight-training already? They were still bald and tiny, but their wings
moved nearly in time with the older dreki. Their eye-lights faded in and out as
they had during the remembrance, as though trying to join minds with their
flight-trainers but not quite able to synchronize yet.
Alísa faced Rann again. “Remind me his name?”
“Rís,” he replied, the name accompanied by the image of a red dawn. Then
Rann looked to the baby on Laen’s back. “Chrí.” With bluebells.
“Yes, I remember.” Alísa fought back surprise tears and tried to cover them,
looking up to the other dreki. “Are you all here for the d—dancing?”
A mixture of excitement and wariness washed over her, along with
scattered trills apparently meant to answer her question. She gave a questioning
look to Rann.
“Watch,” he said, sending a picture of dreki in the trees.
“You w—won’t join this t-t-time?”
Rann arched his neck and nuzzled his son. “Safe.”
Alísa looked back at the people. They loved the dreki, and, based on what
little she knew of this clan, the dreki loved the people. Then again, they had been
skittish the first time she saw them. At that céilí, a few of them came out to dance
at Selene and Falier’s musical call, the rest staying in the trees until Alísa herself
sang. Perhaps it wasn’t as normal as she thought for the dreki to dance with the
people.

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Alísa turned back to the creatures. “Just here for the music, then? It is
lovely.”
In response, melodic chirps and trills sounded in the trees, most of them
flitting along the flute’s melody, while a couple harmonized with the fiddle. The
vocalizations had a slightly disjointed feel to them, each note seeming to come
from a different drek in turn rather than any one drek singing a full phrase of
music. The occasional tones coming from Rann and Laen made it sound like
each drek had their own assigned pitch.
Alísa spun to the dreki’s music, slowly at first, to not scare the dreki closest
to her. Rann trilled out of turn and dipped to fly a circle around her, moving in
the opposite direction. Laen joined him, the two dreki dancing around Alísa,
while their little charges pumped their wings and tried to keep up with their
father and auntie.
More dreki joined the aerial dance, and Alísa giggled with delight. She
stopped and turned the other way, and the dreki twisted to fly in the opposite
direction. Their joy spun through the air with them, and Alísa released her hold
on her empathy to drink it all in. Joy tickled inside her like feathers rising on the
wind.
All too soon, it ended. The song slowed and Selene’s flute sounded a long
ending note. The few dancing dreki arced higher, ending their choreography
with a tight spin around each other over Alísa’s head.
Alísa grinned as she looked up at them. “Thank you. I needed that.”
The dreki trilled in response, flying back to the cover of the trees as sounds
of the milling crowd came over the dancing grounds. Parsen’s voice rose over
the rest, but Alísa couldn’t hear what he announced. Should she go back to them
and try again, or stay here with the dreki? Dreki and dragons were far more
comfortable company. Yet the point in being here was to help the people see her
as a person again, not just the strife-bringing Dragon Singer.
Alísa waved to the dreki. “I’m g—going to go back now. See you later.”
Bracing herself inwardly, Alísa walked the trampled grasses toward the
people. The crowd had stopped moving, but they didn’t seem to be in pairs. All
faced the fire-pit as a male voice she didn’t recognize rose into the evening sky.
Movement at the Hold drew her eyes. Falier and Selene, along with the
other musicians.
Relief in her heart, Alísa headed for them. The voice in the crowd must be

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86
a storyteller giving the musicians a quick reprieve. Falier shook his hands at the
wrists, loosening them up. Selene and the other woman each held an instrument
in hand—a flute and a fiddle, respectively—while the two men besides Falier
were unladen.
Selene spotted her first and waved her over. The others followed Selene’s
gaze to Alísa, Falier’s face lighting up as he saw her approach. He stopped
shaking out his hands and reached an arm to her, which she allowed to pull her
into a side-hug.
“Having fun?”
Alísa smiled in response and pulled away before the hug became awkward
for the others.
Falier resumed his loosening exercise. “You remember Aresia—”
The brunette woman with the fiddle, perhaps in her early forties.
“—Lethín—”
Aresia’s younger brother, another percussionist.
“—and G’renn.”
Low-fifer, a quiet giant of a man. To her relief, none of the musicians gave
her dirty looks like some of the other villagers. Aresia had even attended
yesterday’s dragon visit.
“Nice t-t—to see you all again. Your music has been w—wonderful.”
“Thank you,” Aresia said. She looked to G’renn. “‘Bear In The Brier’ next?
I think Selene and I need a little more time to recover after the last two songs.”
Lethín chuckled. “Old age making you soft, sis?”
Aresia raised her fists in mock aggression, fiddle still in hand. “Still young
enough to teach you a lesson.”
Lethín lifted his hands in defense. “Okay, okay, I give.”
G’renn rolled his eyes and looked back to Aresia. “We did ‘Bear’ last week.
How about—”
“You need a break too?”
Alísa turned her attention from the song-selection conversation to Lethín
and Falier. Lethín looked pointedly at Falier’s shaking wrists and quirked a grin.
“Please.” Falier affected a yawn and stretched. “I could do that last song in
my sleep.”
Lethín shook his head. “You’re working too hard, especially for someone
who’s leaving soon.”

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“If you call that work, maybe you’re the one who—” Falier stilled, his jovial
smile slipping. “What do you mean?”
“You have a higher calling now, right?” Lethín nodded, not unkindly, at
Alísa. “Yet you’re still about your holder tasks every day before flying away to
do who knows what with the dragons. I expected you to take it easy down here.”
Falier’s smile returned, though tighter than before. “I’m still a holder. I’m
not just going to abandon my duties.”
Lethín’s smile held pity now. “Nobody would blame you. After all, you
finally get to have the adventurous life you’ve always wanted, instead of being
stuck here. Fame, glory—you’ll have it all.”
Falier tried to shrug nonchalantly, though it didn’t quite work. “Well,
adventure certainly, but—”
Lethín grinned with another shake of his head. “Always so noble. Oh,
sounds like the story’s winding down. You coming?”
Lethín turned to the crowd, tapping G’renn’s shoulder to bring the others
out of their conversation. The other musicians headed to the fire along with
Lethín, but Falier didn’t move. Selene quirked an eyebrow at him as she passed.
“Coming?”
“In a minute.”
Selene cocked her head, her brow furrowing. She looked to Alísa, a
question in her eyes, then followed the rest of the musicians.
“Was” —Falier started, first staring at nothing, then looking to Alísa—
“was that odd to you?”
Alísa nodded. “Are you okay?”
Falier shook his head. “I don’t know. He didn’t seem mad like others who
have talked to me about my leaving, but it was…” He sighed. “I don’t know. I
should go, else I prove him right about ‘taking it easy.’”
Alísa took his hand. “You don’t have to.”
“Yeah, I do. I’ll be fine.” He gave her hand a squeeze, as though that would
convince her, but his eyes spoke pain. Still, she let him go when he pulled away,
unsure what else to do besides watch him jog back to his spot.
The villagers applauded the storyteller just as Falier took his seat. Alísa
leaned back against the Hold, not quite ready to try dancing again with Falier’s
hurt and confusion wadded up inside of her. It raised another ache within her.
She knew the pain of leaving one’s old life behind. While she hadn’t been

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adored the way Me’ran loved Falier, leaving her father’s clan had been difficult.
Which was worse? The sudden break away that she had experienced, never
saying goodbye to her cousins or Trísse? Or this drawn-out period Falier was
going through? She hadn’t had time to prepare herself, but she also hadn’t had
to watch those she cared for struggle to let her go.
The storyteller raised his hands in a call for silence. “I see we have visitors
in the trees.”
Alísa looked at the dreki. An excited murmur ran through the crowd and
a couple of children near the edge of the group bounced on their toes.
“Perhaps a song to invite them over?” The storyteller looked back at the
musicians, specifically Selene, who had charmed the dreki with her flute before.
“Oh! Miss Alísa!” Marri’s voice rose before she ran to Alísa. The seven-
year-old’s shiny black hair spilled from her hair-tie from hard play and dancing.
“Sing ‘Maiden Fair’! The dreki love it! Can you sing ‘Maiden Fair’ again?”
The people’s attention fell on Alísa. She had to stop herself from shrinking
back against the Hold in embarrassment as other children latched onto the idea
and begged her to sing and make the dreki dance again. Their excited pleas
overcame her discomfort and brought a smile to her lips.
“All right,” she said, stepping from the Hold’s walls. “I’ll sing—”
She looked up from the children into many eyes—some cold, some fearful.
A few stared up at the mountain, as though her acquiescence alone might call
monsters from it.
Cold flooded Alísa. “I w—won’t call for the dragons. The words don’t even
c-c-call for d—dreki. It’s just a folk song.”
The adults’ silence was louder than the children’s giggles, reminiscent of
the moment after she and Falier had completed their presentation. Alísa pulled
her empathy tight around her—her only hope to escape the tide of fear and
anger.
She searched the crowd for allies, someone who might speak up for her.
Parsen looked at a loss, as did Selene. Kat’s eyes seemed to land everywhere but
Alísa. Namor and Tenza were nowhere to be found.
Falier set his bodhrán down, eyes full of concern. “It’s just a folk song. It’s
not—”
“Forgive us if we don’t quite believe you.” Yarlan came to the front, the ice
in his eyes colder than Saynan’s breath. “She has, after all, brought monsters to

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invade the grounds of our Hold every day this week, then led them in attack
patterns overhead, also by her songs.”
Alísa fought back a shudder. Just like the presentation. She had to be better
this time. Keep him from overpowering her.
“W—we’re t-t-training to protect you. There’s another c-c-c-c—”
“They fought off an attack for us just yesterday,” a woman said. “If her
dragons were going to harm us, they would have done so by now, or else they
would have let the other dragons have free reign over Me’ran.”
“Isn’t this her dragons’ territory now?” A man rubbed the scruff of his
beard. “It might not matter whether we’re here or not, they would defend this
area.”
Another man. “Still, they haven’t harmed us.”
“But there hasn’t been a dragon attack here in seven years,” another
woman said, her voice trembling. “Nothing until she showed up.”
That stung more than Yarlan’s accusations, and with it more fear rose from
the people. Alísa breathed out, pushing against it, then froze as Yarlan turned
on her.
“An excellent point. Her very presence is a threat.”
Falier pushed from the crowd. “That’s not true!”
Rage rippled from Falier, joining Yarlan’s malice in colliding against
Alísa’s empathy. She took a step back. Breathed. She could hold it together. Her
father had trained her for this. Just tighten the hold.
“Look at these people!” Yarlan threw his arm out toward the crowd. “This
girl you so staunchly defend frightens them, and they can’t say anything because
her dragon enforcers are on standby in the mountain.”
She should say something. Prove him wrong with a few calm words, yet
she had none. Even if she did, all her energy was going toward keeping the
anger, fear, and rage from overwhelming her. Where was Namor with his quiet
strength?
“So, forgive us if we fear your little folk tunes.” Yarlan sneered, victory
already in his eyes as he set them on Alísa. “Perhaps if you want to prove your
sincerity, you should keep your mouth shut.”
Memory flashed. Words that destroyed her once. They cut through her
empathy, a perfectly-aimed dagger slashing through her control. Someone in
the crowd—Parsen, maybe—spoke argument, but she couldn’t hear the words

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as all the fear and anger and anxiety of the people rushed into her gaps.
Yarlan was right. She was causing all of this. She couldn’t keep them safe.
Couldn’t assuage their fears.
She should never have come back.
Alísa moved, twisting from the emotions and bolting for the Hold. She
passed by the door closest to her, not wanting the people to see her enter, and
went to a door on the dark side away from the fire.
She entered through the kitchen, still warm from dinner, and passed into
the main room where she could breathe. The space was dark, lit only by two oil
lamps on separate tables. Quiet. Safe. Where she could sort out the voices in her
head.
She searched for the memory that would bring her to herself. Papá leading
her through the steps. His gentle eyes as he soothed her fears.
And then the eyes of betrayal as she had mind-choked him.
No. Focus. Which emotion did she feel the most right now?
More anger polluted the space and her mind, making her wince. Concern
came with it—soothing, but not enough.
“Líse?”
Falier. Not anger at her, anger for her.
It didn’t help.
“Oh Líse, I’m so sorry. This is all Yarlan’s doing. Everything we say he
twists!”
‘Speak clearly or keep your mouth shut!’
‘You’ve taken an apprentice, of course.’
Falier reached out to pull Alísa into a hug, but she backed away, arms
crossed over her stomach. She couldn’t let him touch her. This wasn’t like
feeling a dragon’s pain, where he had helped her before. This was a knotted web,
a nest of serpents, where the sudden deluge of negative emotions tangled up
with her own until she could no longer tell what was Alísa and what was not. If
Falier touched her skin now, her volatile empathy would pull him in as well.
Already his anger pounded in her head.
She reached for memories of walking through this before. She could work
through it. Which emotion was most overwhelming?
“Alísa?”
Fear joined Falier’s anger. She closed her eyes and pressed her hands to

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her ears. Falier didn’t understand, and she didn’t have words to make him
understand. Fear and rage and confusion and pain rose as she tried to push
against it all. She just needed to gather her thoughts and feel her own emotions,
instead of everyone else’s.
“What can I do? Tell me what to do.”
How could she when everything inside of her was gibberish?
“Shield your mind, Falier. Now!”
The new male voice shocked Alísa’s eyes open. Papá?
No. He couldn’t be here, and he didn’t know Falier’s name.
Walking stick. Salt-and-pepper hair. Hard eyes that still carried kindness.
Namor. And, bless him, he carried no new emotions into the room.
Surprise shocked through the astral plane. Then the air became a little less
thick as Falier did as Namor said, but the relief was small as the pounding
emotions of the crowd echoed incessantly through her mind.
So much. Why had she let so few words cut through her?
Namor stopped before her. “Do you want me to talk you through it?”
Her first instinct should have been to recoil from him—she wasn’t a little
girl just learning her powers anymore. Yet, as she looked into Namor’s eyes, she
saw her father. The gentleness in his voice stirred memories from long ago,
where thirteen-year-old Alísa huddled under her furs, trying to block out the
noise. Her father would come in, telepathic shield in place, and in his soothing
baritone would instruct her how to feel at home in her own mind again.
“Yes.”
Namor set a hand on the table beside them, lowering himself into a chair.
“Falier will need to learn this someday too, but it does not have to be now. Do
you want him to stay, or leave?”
Alísa sank into a chair, exhausted. “He c—can stay.”
“What do I do?” Falier whispered, kneeling beside Namor’s chair.
“Watch and commit this to memory. Nothing more. Don’t even touch her
until we’re through.” Namor’s voice lowered in both volume and tone. “Now,
Alísa, what is the biggest emotion you feel?”
Alísa leaned her elbows on her knees, pressing her hands to her eyes.
Flames lapped at her mind, blazing into and out of a gaping hole that needed
filling, but greater than both was a great gray shudder pulsing through the other
emotions and settling in her heart and stomach.

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“Fear.”
“Does any of it belong to you?”
“Y—y—yes.” Alísa choked back a sob as she admitted it. So much of it was
hers—it shouldn’t be so.
“And what is it you fear, Alísa?”
“Their eyes.” She stopped. The words had come so swiftly, yet she didn’t
know where they had come from. Their eyes?
“Details,” Namor prodded gently. “What about their eyes?”
Alísa breathed, focusing, pushing aside the other emotions and pressing
deep within the fear. Her heart raced and her arms trembled with the weight of
her head.
Images rose in her mind—faces, some she knew and others she barely
recognized. Each filled with anger, fear, betrayal, or disgust. In their midst came
one face she knew all too well. Chief Toronn, with his unblinking hawk eyes that
she only ever remembered filled with a loathing that made her feel so small.
‘Speak clearly or keep your mouth shut!’
Alísa pulled back, opening her eyes.
“No,” Namor said, “stay there. It can’t hurt you right now, only set you free
from everything else. What is it about their eyes that you fear?”
Alísa closed her eyes again, concentrating, willing the eyes back into view,
Chief Toronn’s in the center. He grew to overshadow the others, as though
everything else she saw poured out of this one face. It haunted her memories
and dreams with glares that told her she was worthless. The only child of her
father, a stammerer, and a dragon-lover.
“T-T-Toronn,” she gasped out. “They look like T-Toronn, my first chief
from my home v—village. They look through me, telling me I’m something that
I’m not. Or, s—something that isn’t the whole of me.”
Namor’s eyes softened. “Good. The rest of the fear does not belong to you.
Close your eyes, fill your lungs, and give back what isn’t yours to keep.”
Alísa kept pace with his instructions, allowing the peoples’ fear to flow out
and away from her. Her mind cleared considerably, and even the fear she kept
had somehow weakened now that she understood it. Not everyone in the crowd
was like Toronn, no matter how much their eyes reminded her of his.
“Good,” Namor said. “What else do you feel?”
“Anger.”

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“Is any of it yours?”
“Yes.” Her fists clenched. “I’m angry at Yarlan for t-t-twisting everything I
s—say. I’m angry at m—myself for n—n—not being able to stop him. And I’m
angry at those who didn’t speak—”
She stopped, her eyes snapping open to look at the man sitting in front of
her.
He met her gaze. He knew.
“Those who didn’t what?”
A sob caught in her chest. “Who didn’t s—speak up for me.”
He nodded and gave her instructions to breathe the rest of the anger out,
as though she hadn’t just declared her rage against him.
“Is there anything else inside you?”
She went through the motions with him again. Confusion, most of which
had belonged to the children. The piece belonging to her was merely a
questioning of herself—whether she did the right thing in trying to bring peace
between Me’ran and the dragons. And, if it was the right thing, why was it so
difficult?
She took a deep breath and let the extra emotion flow away from her on
the exhale.
“Is there anything else?”
Alísa paused for a moment, testing and tasting every emotion left inside of
her. They still pushed and pulled against each other like tents fighting the
winds, but everything that remained belonged to her.
“No,” she whispered, opening her eyes. “Thank you.”
“My daughter Ari has strong empathy like yours,” Namor said, his eyes
distant. “There was many a day I helped her find her way back to her own mind.”
The world was silent for a moment, even the astral plane with both Namor
and Falier holding back. Alísa pressed her lips together, a question on her
tongue she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask.
“I am on your side,” Namor assured her. “But if I speak for you every time
there is trouble, the people will look to me. They must look to you. You are the
one who must refute their arguments. You are the one they must trust more than
their own fear.”
He reached for one of her hands, allowing her a moment to pull away if
she needed before grasping it.

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“And you have your own fear to work through, dear girl. A woman with a
dragon inside her needn’t fear what others think about her. I seem to recall a
woman fearless enough to let a grumpy old slayer see all of her, and how it led
to three dragons being accepted by this village. Perhaps it will take another show
of fearlessness to bring the people to trust you.”
Alísa trembled. Fearless was the last thing she felt before these people,
especially since the last two times she faced the entirety of the village had ended
in disaster. All she wanted right now was to wake Sesína, fly back to the cave,
and stay there with the dragons forever.
Namor squeezed her hand and let go, beginning to stand. “When you know
what you want to do, I will be there.”
From seemingly nowhere, Tenza appeared at Namor’s side. Had she been
there the whole time too? Had she heard everything?
“You can go to her now, lad,” Tenza said gently, taking her place at Namor’s
side.
Falier blinked, shaking his head as though the words had woken him. Alísa
regretted asking him to stay, now knowing what had come out into the open. He
was trustworthy, but to reveal such deep wounds now… What must he think of
her?
His eyes held deep sorrow, perhaps some pity, though he held his shield in
place, so she couldn’t test his emotions to know for sure.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Alísa shook her head. She had said enough.
“What do you need?”
She shivered under the weight of her revelations and Falier’s sincerity. “I
d—d—don’t know. Hold me?”
At the tiniest beginning of his nod, Alísa dropped out of her chair and
clung to him. He returned the fierceness of her grasp, pulling her close and
resting his head against hers. She tried to restrain her sobs, but they came
anyway.
Namor’s final words were meant to be encouraging, but they haunted her.
She needed to be fearless. Didn’t he see that she was trying? She was trying, but
she just couldn’t compete with Yarlan. And the people’s minds, they were
foreign to her, full of emotions that invaded her and left her unable to speak.
Unable to do more than run away.

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Great Maker, what more can I do?

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