Mak slept on and off for the rest of that day. The only real difference from the previous several days was that now, during her brief periods of wakefulness she was fully present and could eat, drink, and take care of herself — with some help, which Kira didn’t hesitate to give. If there had ever been any hurt feelings about Mak knocking her down in her desperation to get to me, they were forgiven immediately.

  During those short periods of wakefulness I gave Mak a very condensed version of what had happened and what was going on, up to and including Mother’s assertion that Behold Her had essentially sworn to kill me. Perhaps that was a bad choice on my part, but I’d come to rely on Mak’s advice so much that it felt unnatural to keep anything from her. It upset her. Of course it did. But she recognized that in her state there was little she could do, and that the best way she could serve me was to eat, rest, and recover properly. She dedicated herself to that task with a will most would reserve for guarding the life of a loved one.

  Her determination to recover as quickly as possible didn’t stop her from keeping her spear in reach. There were limits to how much she’d allow herself to neglect her duties, after all.

  I woke the next morning feeling much better. Not only had the crash after my magically induced mania passed, but Mak returning to us had allowed me to let go of at least one of my fears. If she could wake, then so could Herald and Tam. Maybe they needed the right nudge, or maybe they just needed time; either way, it wasn’t hopeless, like I’d briefly convinced myself.

  At some point during the previous evening — or night; I wasn’t sure — Mother had curled up in the area she’d cleared outside the rotunda. When I got up she was still getting some much needed and well deserved sleep. The very air in this place might be nourishing for her and the other adults, but she’d spent most of the previous day in the air, circling, and she needed her rest. I employed all of my considerable stealth to move past without disturbing her; she didn’t so much as twitch an eyelid.

  I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do outside and alone, but I felt a need to get away and just stretch my wings a little. I hated the feeling that I was hiding, or worse, being actively kept hidden, even for a day. I needed to show myself; to show the other dragons that I was there and that I wasn’t going to let myself be intimidated and slink away. And while I knew that the conclave would be continuing during the day, and I’d be right there with Mother, that wasn’t the same. I was very much a junior partner there. I was a minor extension of Sower of Embers, Reaper of Flames, and if I warranted any consideration at all it was only because she demanded it. It chafed terribly, and so I took to the sky.

  Carefully.

  I stayed low, and I stayed close. I was feeling cramped, not suicidal. For all I knew, Behold Her would take any opportunity to get rid of me if Mother wasn’t right there with me to intervene. But flying lazy circles around the palace grounds satisfied my need to be seen, and to feel that I — not Mother, and certainly not any of the other dragons — was in control of myself. And seen, I was. It didn’t take long to draw attention.

  The steady beat of my wings stuttered when I saw a flash of copper in the morning light, taking off from the nearby northwestern part of the city, which The Winds Weep To See His Grace and The Sun Need Not Rise In His Presence had divided between them. It was the latter who’d taken flight, and I considered returning to Mother until I realized that he wasn’t flying at all aggressively. He didn’t come straight for me. Instead he flew slowly, in long sweeps, taking his time and showing every sign of enjoying himself as he wound his way through the air. He even added little spins and flourishes. He looked about as non-threatening as a fully grown dragon could.

  Which was undoubtedly his intention, since he kept coming closer. I again considered landing and alerting Mother, but pride and curiosity kept me circling. She was almost right below me, after all. I could scream to wake her, then drop at any time. Worst case, I could dip under a tree and Shift. So I kept circling, watching him approach and all but inviting him to do so through my inaction.

  He came as close as the edge of the palace grounds, and no closer. There he settled down on a sturdy-looking section of the wall, watching me expectantly.

  Curiosity got the better of me. A quick inquiry to Conscience, barely more than a question mark, got an equally quick agreement in return. I went for it.

  Finding a place to land took a moment. I needed somewhere we could see each other, close enough to him to talk without shouting but far enough that I could escape — or dodge — if this was a trap. The decision felt obvious in hindsight: I settled on the wall, just a hundred feet away from him.

  Gods and Mercies, even from that distance he was huge. Not as big as Mother, but I was used to her. I didn’t feel truly threatened even when she was openly displeased with something I said. The Sun Need Not Rise In His Presence was an unknown quantity. All I knew about him was that he supported his very good, very close friend’s claim to a piece of my territory, and that he himself claimed to have no intent to stay.

  We watched each other for a while in silence, not so much sizing each other up as waiting for the other to speak. He shuffled a bit, making a few abortive attempts to lie down, probably to try and make himself look less threatening, but gave up quickly. The wall simply wasn’t wide enough, and so he remained sitting, though he lowered his head a little. And then, when I still hadn’t spoken, he took the initiative.

  “I am pleased that you have chosen to speak with me, little one,” he said. I bristled a little at his use of the diminutive, but the way he said it didn’t sound patronizing. It felt more like how an adult might casually call a teenager that they didn’t know ‘kid’. “I know that you speak the Tekereteki tongue but are not comfortable with our own, which, I admit, mystifies me. Do you wish to continue in Tekereteki, or is there some other tongue you would be more comfortable with?”

  “Do you speak Karakani?” I asked in that language, and his eyes crinkled.

  “I do, indeed,” he answered, “as well as many other tongues.”

  Which might mean that he had the Advancement, or that he just liked languages. I filed that away; I might not be able to speak in front of him at all without him understanding. “Karakani, then,” I said. “What do you want?”

  “I want a great many things. Boundless wealth, an adoring flock, and pleasant company foremost among them. I hoped you might provide some small sliver of the latter.”

  “So this has nothing to do with The Winds Weep To See His Grace’s desire for my mountains?”

  His eyes crinkled again. “Of course it does,” he admitted, completely unbothered. “If I could make you more favorably disposed to ceding some part of your vast territory to him, I would be delighted. That is, after all, why we are on this island in the first place.” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, the way someone from the city might when stepping out of their car after a long drive into the bush. A tiny shower of sparks shot from his nostrils as he did. “This place truly is delightful. I can understand why so many were willing to bleed for a piece of it.”

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  “And like you just said, it’s mine,” I said. I wasn’t going to leave that in any doubt, even for a moment. “So why should I give any of it away?”

  “For the sake of peace, allies, and pleasant company. The first and hopefully the last follow from the second. But allies rarely come for free. Your great mother is a rare exception, and even she will not remain forever. I am told she belongs far in the frozen north, where she has her own territory, her hoard, and her flock. She will wish to leave here to return, and when she does, you will need allies by your side.”

  “Allies that I would need to buy,” I countered, narrowing my eyes at him to show exactly what I thought of that.

  “‘Buy’,” he said slowly, tasting the word as though it was unfamiliar. “Humans are strange, are they not? Parting willingly with their treasure in exchange for lesser things. Unthinkable! But I understand that you are much influenced by the humans, so perhaps you have some insight I do not, despite your age. If that is the comparison you wish to use, consider this: Grace would come at little cost to you, as he desires territory most would consider of little value. You will not get a better offer from any other, I can assure you.”

  Maybe you should consider it? Conscience whispered. Embers said the same thing.

  And maybe she was right. I didn’t like it, though. I didn’t want to give up anything, even mountains I barely looked at. There was a pleasure in looking down as I flew and knowing that everything I could see was mine. The humans may draw lines on maps, but they didn’t truly affect me. Happar belonged to me as much as Karakan and the unclaimed land in the north and west. To suddenly know that part of what I looked at belonged, by my own agreement, to someone else… ugh. It wasn’t intolerable, as such. Not like the idea of losing something in my hoard. But it would take a lot to make me accept the idea.

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “How do you mean?” he asked, quirking his head slightly

  “Would an ‘alliance’ with The Winds Weep To See His Grace include you? Since you are such very close friends?”

  “What, precisely, do you mean by that?” he asked. When his eyes narrowed this time it wasn’t in amusement or curiosity and I feared that I might have misstepped; that I’d offended him somehow that I didn’t quite understand with my words or tone or something else. That would be… unfortunate. Even if I didn’t intend to give either him or his friend what they wanted, I didn’t want to go as far as to insult them or make enemies of them. The three I had were quite enough already.

  Still, despite wanting to backpedal, I also didn’t want to show weakness. I schooled my expression, hoping that my Charisma Advancement would help with dragons as well as people, and tried to keep my tone conversational as I said, “You’ve spent a lot of time together since you came here. You are clearly close. You’d want to visit The Winds Weep To See His Grace if he settled in my mountains, wouldn’t you? I imagine you would. So, if the two of you are allied, what would that make the two of us?”

  “Ah, I see,” he said, seemingly satisfied with that. “I am surprised that one so young would think so far! To answer your question, yes, I would likely visit him with some frequency, just as he would me. And I suppose that if I were present, and Grace was at risk of harm, I would have to help him even if it was not his own battle he was fighting. Does that satisfy you?”

  So he wouldn’t commit to anything, but it was likely I might get two allies for the cost of one concession, if I allowed The Winds Weep To See His Grace to settle on Mallin. That certainly sweetened the deal.

  It also meant that there would potentially be two dragons on my island who might decide that whatever I’d agreed to wasn’t enough. I’d have to be absolutely sure that any agreement we came to was completely binding.

  “It does,” I said, not even trying to hide that his answer had given me something to think about. Ugh, was I really giving this some serious consideration? I should end the conversation, I thought, so I could go and talk about it with Mother, Mak, and the others. Though, there was something I needed to ask first. “Why did you come to speak with me?” I asked. “Why not The Winds Weep To See His Grace? He is the one who wants a piece of my territory.”

  “Ah, I am glad you raised the question,” said The Sun Need Not Rise In His Presence, and I had the great privilege of seeing a thirteen-foot tall, multi-ton magical creature look awkward. “Grace is fine company, I assure you, and you will not find a more loyal ally, but he can be… direct. He is also slightly uncomfortable around hatchlings and whelps. You may both need a period of adjustment before a friendship can grow between you. I thought it best that I speak with you first.”

  Meaning, “He’s an asshole but I love him,” I commented drily to Conscience. And she, for once, just sent me back some equally dry amusement. To Presence I said, “Then I guess you’re a loyal friend. I’ll go now, but I’ll try to keep your warning in mind if I talk to him. And thank you for treating me as someone worth speaking with directly. I appreciate it.”

  “And I am pleased you took the risk of approaching me without your mother’s protection. It speaks well of your character,” he said, bobbing his head once. I did the same, and then we went our separate ways, he to his temporary territory, me to the shrine.

  I waited for him to go first. Despite the small hitch, that conversation had gone about as well as it could’ve. Presence seemed pleasant enough. That didn’t mean I’d turn my back to him.

  It only took a few lazy flaps to return to the shrine — more of a long leap than a short flight, really. To my surprise, Mother was awake, her posture relaxed but aimed right at me.

  “Was your conversation productive?” she asked casually once I’d landed before her.

  “I did not realize that you knew,” I replied.

  “Your thread may be worryingly weak, but I can still feel where you are, daughter. And I do not sleep so deeply that a threat to my little one cannot wake me. When I sensed that one of those males was approaching you, it concerned me.”

  “That was not my intention,” I said, lowering my head in contrition.

  “I believe you. And with the way you both were moving, and with how you never came too close, I chose to trust you. It seems my trust was well placed.”

  “I was careful!” I tried to match the pride with which Instinct would have said the same thing. “I made sure I could easily retreat if he tried anything!”

  ‘Retreat’. I was very satisfied with that choice. Not ‘escape’, ‘run’, or, God forbid, ‘flee’. Instinct was far too proud to say something like that with a cool head.

  “And your conversation, was it productive?” she asked again, and I told her. I didn’t see any point in holding anything back; it wasn’t like we’d said much, or like I’d learned anything surprising. And if we were going to do any negotiation beyond “rack off,” she would need as much knowledge as possible. Now she knew that if, say, The Winds Weep To See His Grace said something rather cunty to me, she should consider not killing him where he stood. That was something.

  “I also found the grey male’s manner of speaking abrasive,” Mother admitted. “It is good to know that his companion recognizes this.”

  “I thought you said that you found him pleasant?”

  “Indeed. He seems intelligent and honest, and willing to explore other avenues than conflict where possible. The content of his speech impressed me. The way he said it, though… I suspect that if he ever speaks with Behold Her And Know That All Things Must End, there will be violence.”

  “Well, I am not easily insulted,” I said. Then I thought about it, and corrected myself. “Or if I am, I am good at not reacting impulsively.”

  “Restraint. A fine trait when used to avoid conflict where victory is uncertain,” Mother said with approval. “But do not make the mistake of allowing humans and other lessers to insult you without consequence. That way lies disrespect, and disrespect can only be followed by contempt. And once you allow them contempt, nothing short of devastation will stop them from taking what is yours.”

  “I will remember that,” I told her, trying to ignore the chill her casually instructive tone sent up my spine.

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