When we landed on the little ledge before my lair we were absolutely exhausted. I’d once read— okay, I’d once watched a video about these absolute mentalists who’d run fifty miles down a mountain and then back up again for fun; having flown all those sorties in the morning, then from Karakan to Malyon and most of the way back again, we felt a bit like how I imagined that might. We’d worn our body out to the point where I genuinely worried that a nap on the hoard would turn into a long, healing sleep that would only end when we were fully recovered. But that was a risk I’d have to take.

  I’d put my mark on Tam as lightly as I could. He’d shuddered and moaned, and I felt like an absolute shit for it, but I didn’t know what else to do. Then I’d left Tam and Val in the capable hands of the people of Lady’s Rest, and Mother was flying long, slow circles high in the sky. All I had to do was to take a rest, and we’d see if what I’d done to Tam had been worth it. If it had been enough, or if I’d have to do worse.

  The descent to my hoard was a glum walk, but we perked up when the scent of gold and silver began to permeate the air. There was little that could raise our spirits like the proximity of my treasure. We didn’t stop to savor it, though; once we reached the side chamber we went right in and laid down on the carpet of coins, willing ourselves to sleep.

  After the day’s exertions, sleep wasn’t far off. And with Tam so nearby in the waking world, he wasn’t hard to find. He was nowhere near as bright as someone I’d claimed fully would be, but he was there; he was visible, and to my enormous relief I could see into his dreams, the roiling mess of confusion that they were.

  Now I just had to do what I’d set out for.

  He was hanging on to his body by the barest of threads. Carefully, I sent out a few tendrils of magic. Touching Tam with them was tricky. He was less tangible than his sisters, as far as anything in the dreamscape was tangible at all, and my tendrils kept slipping and sliding around and in some cases through what I thought must be his soul. But I only knew one way of making him easier to affect, and that was my last resort. I’d just have to be better.

  Putting more effort into it, I sent out more, thinner tendrils and surrounded Tam with them. Then I tried to sort of weave them together, forming the world’s shittiest net. I wasn’t all too confident in this approach, since my tendrils had literally passed right through him before, but it worked! Tam’s flitting spirit stilled, just as Herald’s and Mak’s had, and with my tendrils around him I pulled more than guided him fully back into his body. Then I ramped up my will and the intensity of the magic I poured into him, envisioning tying that net to his body so his soul had nowhere else to go.

  With our sisters, I’d felt like I was simply setting them in place. Almost asking — or commanding — them to remain where they should. With Tam it didn’t feel so much as a request, or even a command, as it did lashing him in place with layer after layer of ethereal, golden rope. But that rope finally separated from me, and stayed in place, and there he was: no longer fluttering in the golden breeze, but firmly bound to his body, just as he should be.

  Mercies, I hoped that was as it should be. I had no goddamn clue.

  Our time stuck in Dreamland — regular, non-lucid Dreamland — wasn’t as long as I’d feared. We’d entered our lair in the evening, and emerged facing a half-risen sun, feeling hungry but much better.

  A patchy layer of clouds had flowed in from the sea during the night, and as we stood on the ledge, Mother dipped below their cover, banking to approach as she descended to our level. She passed by the ledge slowly, inviting us to join her, and so we did.

  “Are you done?” she asked without preamble. “We should return.”

  “I have done what I can,” Instinct replied, “but I need to see if it helped. I will go to the village, and be back soon.”

  The village was wrapped in that easy calm that you get in the early morning, when not everyone has woken yet and the only people out are those who absolutely must be. This particular morning, that meant Elem and Darvellan, who were returning from the stream with two large buckets each of water. We spotted each other from a distance as Instinct came in to land, and they greeted us with the same caution they’d shown almost every time we’d met since I first nearly killed them, taking them for bandits.

  “Ask Valmik to come out,” Instinct commanded them. “I need to speak with him.”

  “Of course, Great Lady,” Darvellan replied quickly. “May we…?” He hefted his buckets.

  “Yes, yes. Finish what you were doing, but do not keep me waiting.”

  “As you say, Great Lady,” Elem agreed, and they hurried off.

  It wasn’t long before Darvellan dipped into one of the huts, and Val soon emerged. He didn’t look like he’d slept much, but he also didn’t look hopeless, which I took as a good sign.

  “I cannot know what you did, my dear friend,” he said as he approached, “but sometime during the night, Tam calmed. His sleep has been peaceful since. It can only be hoped that he will rest soundly, and wake soon.”

  “This pleases me,” Instinct said. She didn’t even pretend to be me. “The little ghost would have moaned for ages if we had to claim him.”

  “I would think his continuing freedom is the more important thing,” Val said reproachfully.

  “You would,” Instinct agreed. “Do not confuse me for a human, just because the little ghost acts so much like one. But let us not quibble. Mother is growing restless, and I must return north. Do you wish to come with us?”

  “Mercies, I know we should, but… Instinct, may I speak with Draka?”

  “She cannot be in control now,” Instinct said, and I reluctantly agreed. Mother was too near. It was an unnecessary risk to take. “But,” she added, “I can relay her words. Speak.”

  That’s kind of you, I said.

  “Do not mistake practicality for kindness,” she replied. “It costs me little, and what he has to say may be important.”

  I didn’t care how aloof she played at being. She could pretend not to care about Conscience and me or our opinions, but I could feel how pleased she was at my approval. And no wonder, either; I knew first hand how hard it could be to separate my two companions’ emotions from my own, and feeling good about yourself is pretty damn nice.

  “I love Mak and Herald like they were my own sisters,” Val said. “I’ve always liked Mag. I’ve come to enjoy the company of Ardek and Kira, and Avjilan is pleasant enough. I do not feel I know Sarina or Marvan well enough yet, but it would be heartbreaking for my friend Dalman if anything were to happen to them.”

  He notably did not mention Zabra or Tammy. If you have nothing nice to say, and so on.

  “The thought of abandoning them in Old Mallin, when I am one of the strongest fighters in our group, puts a sickness in my heart. But…”

  He looked back helplessly toward the little village.

  Tell him— I said, and Instinct repeated my words, more or less. The sentiment came across. “Tamor, your mate, is stricken,” she said for me. “And he is safe here.”

  “Yes.”

  “And as much as you would not wish to abandon the others, if you must choose, you must choose him.”

  “He would beg me to go,” he said helplessly.

  “He would,” we agreed. “But consider this: the concerns of the near future will not be eagles or cats. They will be dragons. And as much as we admire your skill with the sword, soon it will make little difference. Nor will Tam’s, should he wake. You will both be nothing but two more mouths to feed, and two more lives to protect.”

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  I shouted at the big, scaly bitch a bit after that. She just snorted. “The little ghost tells me I could have expressed that more politely.”

  “Perhaps,” Val said, “but you are not wrong.”

  “Then consider this: our sisters would be glad to know that you are safe. None would blame you. And once Malyon is safe again, it is not so arduous for me to fly down here and return you to the others, should you wish it.” She paused as I spoke to her, and said, “If you need my permission to stay, you have it.”

  “Thank you,” Val whispered.

  Thank you.

  Conscience’s words as we left Tam and Val behind mirrored Val’s. I’d felt her presence again once we arrived at Malyon, but this was the first thing she’d said since turning her back on us while I was firebombing ships.

  Instinct didn’t answer her, but I did. I was happy to have her back, sanctimonious though she might sometimes be. What for? I asked.

  For Tam. For not doing what you might have. I know you were tempted, and Val would have never known the difference if you told him it was necessary. But you didn’t. So… thank you.

  I felt an urge to deny that I’d ever been tempted to claim Tam, but we’d’ve both known that I was lying. It hadn’t been a struggle, as such, but when I marked Tam I’d been well aware of how easy it would have been to take it all the irreversible way. And there was still a small part of what was uniquely me, in no way connected to Instinct, that whispered that maybe what I’d done in the dreamscape had finished the job, and wouldn’t that be nice?

  No, I didn’t deny it. Instead I told Conscience, Thank you for noticing. And it’s good to have you back.

  God knows someone needed to keep you honest last night, she replied, but without the judgmental flavor that usually accompanied her snark. It felt more like friendly ribbing for once, and it felt good.

  “There will be others at the ruined city by now. I am sure of it,” Mother told us as we flew.

  “How can you know?” Instinct asked. We’d all looked through the eyes of our humans, but they were all safely shut away inside the rotunda, though the situation was clearly becoming uncomfortable.

  “Not only can I sense males to the north,” Mother replied, “but I saw a dragon flying along the spine of the mountains. Female, since I could not sense her. There can be no doubt about their destination. Once we get close, you must obey me. I know that you are independent, and I treasure that, but you will stay close to me, and do your best not to provoke them. The longer we can delay conflict, the better.”

  I couldn’t think of any objections to that, and neither could Instinct, much as she chafed at being told to obey. So we flew along, high and mostly in silence, not knowing what we might face in Malyon and letting the apprehension tie our guts into knots.

  Meeting The Might and Splendor of the Depthless Ocean had been terrifying. This was bound to be worse.

  Oh, gods and Mercies and Sorrows and little baby Jesus, too, it was so much worse.

  I’d had the bowel-voiding experience of Sower of Embers, Reaper of Flames pursuing me and cornering me in a cavern. I’d been chased by The Might and Splendor of the Depthless Ocean, which wasn’t as mind-blankingly frightening, but the difference was pretty academic. In each of those situations I’d feared for my life — and for Herald’s, when I first met Mother. The fear I felt when we neared Malyon and saw no less than four dragons in the sky, with two more perched on a relatively intact segment of the city wall, was not for my life. It was for my future as the dominant force on the island of Mallin, and that was arguably worse.

  I knew, at a glance and beyond any doubt, that if not for Mother any one of these interlopers could have easily forced me to choose between flight and submission. And there were six of them: one who might be a potential ally, if only because he was a horny bastard with a thing for my mother; two who were most definitely hostile, since Mother had “singed the tail” of the female, which I wasn’t sure if it was literal or not; and three unknowns, of which at least one was presumably the female Mother had seen flying north.

  I didn’t know what the polite thing to do might have been, nor did Instinct, but Mother knew exactly how she wanted to handle the situation. As we passed above the city wall, she roared. Now, I could manage a pretty impressive roar, the kind that made every human in range stop and take notice, but what Mother let out was almost beyond sound, and into the realm of sensation disconnected from the physical body. It was so loud, powerful, and filled with raw, dominant arrogance that I swore I felt it in my soul. It made every part of us vibrate, to the point that Instinct lost control of our flying for a moment as balance and sense of orientation became a thing of the past. We tumbled in confusion for a second until the roar cut off, and Instinct managed to get everything back under control.

  Mother had been watching us struggle. “Good recovery,” she said. Then she narrowed her eyes in amusement and said, “I may have overdone it. Though it did have the desired effect.”

  That effect, I saw, was to clear the air ahead of us of anything winged and scaly. And winged and feathered, too, for that matter. Everything in the air simply scattered, leaving us a clear lane to the high city and the palace grounds, and the one male who’d chosen to set himself down on the palace itself — which was incredibly careless and inconsiderate — took off in a hurry when he saw us bearing down on him. From the lack of fighting I assumed that all the new dragons were there to talk, at least for formality’s sake, but not one of them attempted to approach.

  My insides still ached from Mother’s roar, but I was damned glad to have her by my side. I didn’t want to think about what would have happened if a bunch of dragons had shown up, lusting for my territory, and she wasn’t here.

  “What will we do now?” Instinct asked once we’d set down in the clearing Mother had made in front of the rotunda.

  “Now I speak with them, and you stay here,” she said. “Join your humans. Rest. I will invite the others to join a conclave, leave, or die.”

  Two of the strangers became visible between the trees for a moment, and we watched them pass. “I regret not being more forceful in teaching you our own tongue, little one. You will need to be present at the conclave. They will never respect your claim on this territory if you do not speak. Even then I may have to claim it for my own, which will make the situation difficult.”

  Instinct didn’t hesitate. She didn’t even think. Her growl of “Mine!” bared teeth and all, was instant.

  “Yes,” Mother agreed placidly, making those little chirping sounds, soothing and placating. “It is. Even if I claimed it before the others, it would still be yours. But claiming a territory so far from my own may be seen as abandoning my current one, and if I were to leave here in the next few years, which I must, they may consider this territory abandoned instead. You understand the difficulty.”

  “Kill them!” Instinct suggested. Her mind could become terribly one-track when she got angry.

  “It may yet come to that. For now, we shall try reason and intimidation.” With a final soothing chirp, Mother nudged us in the direction of the shrine. “Go on, now. Your flock needs you.”

  “I am hungry,” Instinct said sourly.

  “Then I shall bring you something when I return.” With that, she left.

  You should stay in control, I told Instinct as we watched Mother fly off. I think her sense of where we are getting suddenly weaker right now might upset her.

  You’re probably right, Conscience agreed. Scaly? Can you try not to be too imperious with the humans?

  “I shall be kindness and acquiescence incarnate,” Instinct said, and I couldn’t help but worry that she’d learned sarcasm, because her delivery was indistinguishable from how she normally spoke to us.

  Once Instinct opened the rotunda — unprompted, to her credit — it only took a few moments for the humans inside to start hurrying outside. There were also things to empty, and laundry to do, what with Herald and Mak still not having had more than a few seconds of consecutive wakefulness since I left.

  Sarina and Marvan volunteered to deal with the laundry, doing most of the scrubbing and such in an overgrown pond we weren’t using and then rinsing thoroughly with clean water from the fountain that we drank from. Instinct ended up escorting them — again, entirely unprompted. She really was on her best behavior.

  “If we may ask,” Marvan said as they scrubbed, “what’s happening right now? We shut the door when we saw a dragon coming from the north, and just before you came there was a roar that shook our bones, but that’s all we know.”

  “Are Tam and Val alright?” Sarina added.

  “The men are well,” Instinct said. “Tam is better than he was. No worse than his sisters, at least. Val sends his apologies, but he thought it best for them to stay at Lady’s Rest.”

  “Probably,” Sarina agreed. “Though we may miss their swords. And the rest?”

  “What you heard was my mother announcing our arrival, and making clear who is the dominant one here. There are half a dozen dragons in the city, and there may be more coming. We shall have a gathering.”

  “Half a dozen—!” Sarina said, choking on the words, as Marvan asked, “A gathering? A gathering of dragons?”

  “Yes,” Instinct said. She sounded unbothered, but she couldn’t hide nervousness at the idea of the conclave from me. “A conclave. A negotiation, of sorts, where Mother shall generously offer them her forgiveness for their trespass, as well as their lives, in exchange for them leaving and recognizing this island as mine. You need not worry. If any are so foolish as to refuse her, she will destroy them.”

  I wished that I could share her confidence.

  Mother returned late in the afternoon, carrying the rather charred carcass of what might have been an enormous deer. We all ate well that night, with meat to spare for drying. Good thing, too — it helped with the nerves that her news caused.

  At noon the next day, the conclave would begin.

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