Dinner rolls, baked beans, and platters of several kinds of meat were passed up and down the time-polished cedar dining table where Rysha had shared countless meals with her family, both as a child and also later on, when she’d been studying at the university and had come home on the weekends. Only recently had she started to feel like a guest, or even a stranger, at the manor, coming home only once every month or two. Sometimes less, thanks to her parents’ tendency to harp on her military career.

Tonight, they were too busy asking polite but pointless questions to the gray-haired newcomer and stealing glances at Trip instead of mentioning the army. Rysha wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. Trip was being quiet, speaking only if someone asked him a question. He looked… not exactly miserable, but certainly uncomfortable. Far from the powerful sorcerer she’d gradually seen coming out over the last couple of months. Did she want him to look like a sorcerer here? Projecting his scylori? She didn’t know. It might cause even more trouble than if her parents believed him a simple commoner.

Jhory had heard or read something, but Rysha couldn’t tell if anyone else knew—or believed—the rumors yet. Trip running into coat racks wasn’t likely to make people believe he was a supremely powerful being directly descended from a dragon.

“What brings you to our home tonight, Lord Lockvale?” Aunt Tadelay asked. “I’ve run into you at social gatherings before, I believe. You do property surveys for the kingdom, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, my lady. I’m visiting folks in the area, making sure everyone is doing well. There have been reports of dragons in this part of the country, as you may know.”

“And that’s part of your job as a surveyor?”

“As a concerned Iskandian subject and nobleman, certainly.” The man had a gray mustache to match his gray hair, and a greasy smile that put Rysha on edge.

She couldn’t remember having ever met him at social gatherings or otherwise, though the family name was familiar. She didn’t like that Father had been even more tense since his arrival.

“It’s remarkable that you have so much time to worry about others,” Tadelay said. “I’d heard that your family was having some trouble, due to some debts your father failed to pay off before his passing.”

“Oh no, nothing serious, my lady.” Lockvale waved a dismissive hand. “It’s true we sold some of our lands a few years ago, but only because it was a burden to maintain them, not because we were impoverished or anything of the sort. How ludicrous to contemplate.”

“Hm.”

“Tadelay,” Rysha’s mother whispered. “You of all people should know it’s improper to discuss finances at the dinner table.”

“Yes, I suppose it is. Forgive me. I’ve had a glass or two already.” She waved to the red wine next to her plate, though it was full, and Rysha thought it had been for the whole night.

Trip? she asked, hoping he was monitoring her thoughts. She touched his thigh under the table to make sure.

He’d been watching the newcomer and her father, but he promptly responded, Yes?

Are you busy?

Being lectured for not sampling something from every dish and every wine bottle? Moderately so.

Er, is that Azarwrath?

Yes, he lives vicariously through me and my taste buds. What’s your question?

I wondered if you have any idea what this Lockvale is up to and why my aunt was carrying out beverages earlier.

So she could personally poison me, I imagine.

You drank the cranberry ale, and you’re still alive. Nothing was poisoned.

Are you sure? It had a funny taste.

That’s the secret ingredient. Lemongrass. I know the recipe since I used to make it with my grandmother as a girl. Rysha glanced toward the spot at the table where her grandmother had once sat. Family meals had been much more enjoyable with her here, especially since Rysha had joined the army. She’d always stood up for Rysha’s choice and had loved to bring up all news events and all gossip at the table, whether appropriate for dinner discussion or not.

Lemongrass? I don’t even know what that is.

A culinary and medicinal herb from Iskandia’s southern regions. The recipe calls for two stalks, bruised lightly, then cut into half inch pieces.

I think that’s what your aunt wants to do to me. Though she’s admittedly glowering at me less now that this Lord Lockvale has arrived. And yes, I have learned a few things. Do you want me to tell you here? Your mother is concerned that you’re touching my thigh under the table and gazing lustfully at me.

Lustfully? I’m looking at your knuckles, not your naked chest. Rysha did turn away and make a point of chatting with her brother on her other side, asking him how the wine business was doing.

“I heard the Swanvales are thinking of selling their timberlands,” Aunt Tadelay said, apropos of nothing, though the shrewd look she sent at Lockvale made Rysha suspect it was apropos of something.

Did she believe this man a part of some scheme? Something that could affect their family? What did Lockvale want to talk to her father about?

“There have been a lot of bandits about,” Lockvale said. “Perhaps they’re joining those people who are selling their land and turning to the safety of the city.”

“Timber bandits?” Aunt Tadelay asked, her voice dripping sarcasm. “Are they traipsing through forests and leaving with logs in their pockets?”

“I understand steam wagons and saws are involved.” Lockvale sipped from his glass, then looked up and down the table, as if seeking a less prickly conversation companion than Rysha’s aunt. His gaze settled on Trip. “Captain, you’re in the flier battalion, is that right?” He waved at the flier-shaped pin on Trip’s uniform.

“Yes, sir—my lord.”

Lockvale smirked at the slip, looking down his nose at Trip.

Rysha gritted her teeth, recognizing that condescending I’m-a-noble-and-you’re-not look. Maybe she should have told Trip to unleash his scylori, after all. Nobody lesser than a dragon would look down upon him then. Besides, it always seemed unfair to ask him to cloak his true nature, even if he hid it himself most of the time. She didn’t think any of his Wolf Squadron comrades had seen him exuding his natural power.

“Seen any battles with dragons?” Lockvale asked.

“Several. As has Rysha.”

“Oh yes. I’d heard one of your girls had become a soldier, Lord Ravenwood.” Lockvale’s gaze shifted to Rysha’s father. “How pedestrian.”

“We can’t all be as noble as land surveyors,” her father murmured.

Rysha caught Trip wincing, and she touched him under the table. She knew he’d meant to suggest she was doing the same kind of important and dangerous work that he was, not lead in to her or her family being insulted.

“Has the army come up with any idea about how to deal with these dragons yet, Captain?” Lockvale asked. “They are a tedious problem.”

“We have a few ideas. It’s true that we can’t simply keep reacting to attacks on our land.”

“That’s a certainty. I suppose the army isn’t the most imaginative institution though when it comes to solving problems, eh? You pilots just fly at things and shoot them, don’t you?”

“That’s my job, sir,” Trip said coolly, and Rysha knew he hadn’t made that slip, leaving off the my lord, accidentally.

“I’d prefer if you call me Lord Lockvale or my lord,” Lockvale had the gall to say. What an ass.

“We don’t always get what we prefer,” Trip said.

Rysha’s mother and father frowned at each other. They might not like Lockvale, but they would no doubt feel it their duty to ensure their class wasn’t snubbed by some commoner. To Rysha’s surprise, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Aunt Tadelay’s mouth.

Trip, Rysha thought. Can you tell if he’s—

Storyteller! Shulina Arya spoke into her mind, the word thunderous as it bounced around inside Rysha’s skull.

Rysha gripped the table and managed not to fall off her chair. Yes?

There is a silver dragon snooping around your castle.

Rysha resisted the urge to correct the dragon about the house’s more modest label, and asked, What?

Trip looked at her and nodded. To let her know he was being included in the conversation too?

He will not speak with me. Shall I chase him off?

Any chance you could question him and find out why he’s here? Trip asked before Rysha could respond. He didn’t sound surprised in the least about this dragon.

If I can catch him, I can most certainly question him. Storyteller, is this your wish?

Yes, Rysha said, bemused that Shulina Arya would ask her permission, or at least her opinion, before acting. I’d like to know if my family is in danger. And I’d like for my family not to be in danger.

I will valiantly battle him and slay him if he’s a danger to them!

Questions first, please, Trip said, his gaze drifting back toward Lockvale, who’d found another dinner companion to chat with.

Rysha wanted to drag Trip off to a private corner to find out what he’d learned so far. As it was, she had to make an effort to speak with her brother again, lest her family find it odd that she and Trip were gazing silently at each other without talking.

Lockvale’s head came up. “Lady Ravenwood, I thank you and your staff for the fine meal, but I don’t believe I can eat any more. Lord Ravenwood, are you able to have that meeting with me now?”

Rysha’s father had only finished half the food on his plate and didn’t look like he wanted to leave the table, but he said, “Yes. Let’s go to my study.”

“Excellent. Have you any cigars to finish off the meal with? I do enjoy those imported Dakrovian ones of yours.”

Father’s jaw tightened, but he nodded and pointed toward the hall leading to his study.

Oh, he’s flying away from me, Shulina Arya cried, the disappointment ringing in Rysha’s mind. The coward!

Rysha tensed, feeling like she should be out there, on Shulina Arya’s back to help her chase down an enemy.

Mother cleared her throat. “I assume you’ll be spending the night, Rysha?” She looked at Rysha, tension tightening her eyes, then looked at Trip. “If so, I’ll have the maid take your friend to the guest wing. I trust he’ll stay there and that you’ll stay in your room. This isn’t a college dormitory—or an army barracks.”

Jhory and Krey snickered while Severin’s mouth dropped open and he glanced at Trip, looking appalled. Rysha’s cheeks warmed.

“Thank you for your generous offer of a guest room for Trip, Mother,” Rysha said, smiling through her teeth. “But we’ll be returning to the city tonight.”

Mother’s eyebrows flew up. “It’s after dark, and it’s a long ride back to the capital. Even if it weren’t, it’s not safe to travel the highways at night anymore.”

“We’re trained soldiers, Mother.” Rysha hesitated, debating if she should mention that they would ride Shulina Arya back, assuming she didn’t get into trouble with that silver dragon, and could be back in the city in less than an hour.

“That doesn’t mean you should court trouble.”

“…think she’s sleeping with a witch—mage?” Jhory whispered to Severin.

“If she is, what if he’s controlling her?”

“He doesn’t look like he could control his own prick.”

Rysha dropped her face into her hand. What had ever made her think that bringing Trip to a family dinner would be a good idea? For that matter, what had made her think bringing herself would be wise?

* * *

Rysha gazed toward the cloudy sky, glad it wasn’t raining, but feeling silly standing on the gravel drive a half mile from the house. Perhaps it had been premature to leave, but when her brothers had started speculating about whether Trip had used magic to make her fall for him, she hadn’t been able to take it any longer.

“She is coming back, right?” Trip asked dryly, his voice sounding over the chirps of crickets and hoots of owls in the trees around the lake.

“I’m sure she is. Can you still sense her?” Rysha remembered that his range was supposed to be forty or fifty miles when it came to detecting dragons and their prominent auras.

“I can. She’s about twenty miles that way.” He pointed east, toward the mountains.

“Still over our property then. Our valley continues up into the foothills. Or it will as long as my father doesn’t sell it. Were you able to learn anything about that?”

Trip stuck his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t catch your father thinking about selling the property—actually, there was one thought about him not wanting to do it—but here’s what I got: ever since this silver dragon started hanging around, the workers have been quitting left and right. The dragon hasn’t hurt anyone, but they’ve all said they’re too worried to continue living here where it’s lurking. Your father has had trouble attracting new workers, and he’s concerned he’ll have to close down some of the family businesses.”

Rysha frowned. “We’re in the growing season now. He’ll need more people, not fewer. Especially by the end of the summer and early fall when everything needs to be harvested.”

“I could possibly make some interesting magic-powered machinery that could help with harvesting.”

“Trip.” She leaned on him and wrapped her hands around one of his arms. “I appreciate you wanting to help, but you should help people who are nice to you, not snobby elitists. Or silly stoat-heads.” The latter, she applied to her brothers. She loved them, but they still acted like teenagers when they were together.

“I’d never help anyone if I made that rule,” he said, his tone dry again.

Her frown deepened. “You do have friends.”

“I know. It was a joke. Mostly. I’m aware that I… something about me rubs people the wrong way at times. A lot of times. I don’t know how to change that unfortunately. I try to hide my otherness—you know that—but I think it oozes out anyway.”

“It does, but people shouldn’t be so quick to judge otherness. How infuriating.”

He wrapped an arm around her back. “Something else you should know about the dinner,” he said, not sounding particularly infuriated—maybe he was used to being judged as quirky, “is that I caught this Lord Lockvale thinking a lot about your family’s land. It’s clear he wants it. He intended to make your father an offer on it tonight, a second offer. He was here a couple of weeks ago and met with your father then too.”

“I wouldn’t think his family would have enough money to make such an offer. We own so much land that’s fertile or has ore and timber on it that it’s worth a lot even if we’re not necessarily swimming in money. We would be if we sold it. Well, maybe not right now.” Rysha leaned back to look up at his face, though she couldn’t make out his features in the dark. They had moved away from the gas lamps around the house, so her parents wouldn’t know they didn’t have typical mounts waiting out in the stable. “With all the uncertainty and unrest, this would be a horrible time to sell land. Especially if there’s a dragon hanging right around here.” Rysha imagined prospective buyers coming out to see the manor as a silver dragon sailed overhead.

“A horrible time to sell,” Trip agreed. “An excellent time to buy if someone were forced to sell.”

Rysha mulled that over. Would her father feel forced if he couldn’t find enough workers to run the family businesses and help in the fields and orchards? Or would her mother and aunt and everyone else grow tired of worrying about that silver dragon lurking around? Was there a price at which they might feel tempted to sell the entire estate?

The thought horrified her, both because she’d grown up here and loved the valley and the lake and everything beyond, and because if her parents didn’t have the businesses, they wouldn’t be making an income. If they didn’t get what the property was worth—or even if they did—would it be enough for them to live on? And Aunt Tadelay too? And her brothers, for that matter. Rysha and her sister were the only ones who didn’t have incomes that depended on the family businesses.

“My understanding from my telepathic spying was that Lockvale’s offer was disgustingly low and also that the offer he intended to make tonight was the same one, with the promise that he wouldn’t offer as much in the future if your father didn’t accept this week.”

“You don’t know the amount, do you?”

“No.”

“If Father did feel he had to sell, I’m sure he could find another buyer, one willing to offer fair market value or close.”

“How sure are you? Because that’s not what Lockvale thought.”

“Do you think he’s just trying to take advantage of the situation?” Rysha asked. “Maybe making low offers to a lot of the nobles with land in this area? Or is he targeting my father in particular? He couldn’t be working with this dragon, could he? How would that even work? It’s not like bribing a dragon with money would do anything. I assume.”

“What about bribing a dragon with tarts? Or stories?”

“I don’t bribe Shulina Arya with stories. She just likes them, and I feel it’s wise to accommodate dragons.”

“Likely so.”

Trip’s arm felt good around her back, and she leaned in closer. Even though there weren’t typically big swings between daytime and nighttime temperatures here, it was getting late, and Rysha noticed the chill in the air.

“I didn’t catch him thinking about the dragon,” Trip said, wrapping his other arm around her, “but I didn’t pry deeper into his less-than-surface thoughts.” He hesitated and shifted his weight. “When I’ve done that before, I’ve hurt the person. Inadvertently. I was angry at the time—it was that cultist leader—and it’s possible I could be more careful about extracting information in the future, but seeing blood coming out of someone’s nose as he grabbed his head in pain made me… a little afraid of myself.”

“I’m sure it’s scary to have power like that, especially if you can’t always control it.”

“Yes. I’m never sure whether I should use it or not. Would it even be legal to use it on an imperial subject—a nobleman? Were there rules against mind reading back in the old days when mages were commonplace?”

“I think you’d have to ask Sardelle. My expertise ends at dragons. They had very few rules about anything. The fittest survived and ruled and did whatever they wanted.”

“I don’t think I can do what I want just because I’m fitter than Lord Lockvale. Though Azarwrath would have been pleased if I did.”

“I think my aunt would have been too. She didn’t like him.” Rysha leaned back in Trip’s arms as a new thought occurred to her. A thought that chilled her and brought memories of Xandyrothol to mind, Xandyrothol imitating Horus Silverdale. “There’s no possibility Lockvale is a dragon masquerading as a human to get what he wants, is there?”

Trip grew still. She wished she could tell what he was thinking.

“I didn’t sense anything unusual about him, but I also didn’t sense anything unusual about the would-be Horus. He did a good job dampening his aura and fooling us all. Though I don’t know if he could have fooled an actual dragon. We can ask Shulina Arya whenever she gets here, as long as Lockvale is still in the house.”

“Can you tell where she is now?”

“Ten miles farther away.”

Rysha snorted. She almost asked Trip to speak telepathically to the dragon, if he had the range, and request a pickup. But if Shulina Arya was pursuing a silver dragon harassing the estate, Rysha didn’t want to get in the way of that. If they had to, they could spend the night at the manor. In separate beds in separate wings of the house if Mother had her way.

Rysha? Trip asked gently, switching to mental communication.

Yes? she responded the same way.

Did something happen on the freighter before I got back? Did Xandyrothol… do something to you?

Oh hells, she hadn’t wanted him to find out. He must have glimpsed her thoughts when the dragon had come to mind. They were standing so close that she supposed he couldn’t have missed it.

Nothing happened. That wasn’t quite true, and she didn’t want to lie to Trip; she doubted she even could lie to him. I mean, I let myself get caught alone below decks, because I wasn’t as aware of my surroundings as I should have been, and he did push me against the wall with his magic. He kissed me and, uh, groped me. She couldn’t say the words—even mentally—without feeling shame and embarrassment. Kaika had warned her the dragon-man had a sexual interest in her, but Rysha had refused to see it and hadn’t been wary when she should have been. That’s as far as it went. I got lucky. Kaika had her sword—mine was at the bottom of the harbor then, remember—and saw what was going on and drove him away.

She was glad it was dark so Trip couldn’t see her face or the shame scorching her cheeks. Not that vision mattered for him. He surely sensed her every emotion, if not her every thought.

I’m sorry that happened.

She shrugged. Like I said, it was my fault for not being aware of the situation. I’m lucky it wasn’t worse than it was.

It was not your fault. You didn’t know he was anything other than human or that he had the power to push you around against your will. Most men don’t.

She shook her head, staring at his shoulder instead of looking into his eyes. She didn’t think he was right, but she didn’t want to argue about it.

Trip lifted his hand to the back of her head and stroked her hair.

Does it bother you? she asked silently. She ought to have dropped it and stopped dwelling on it, but she imagined Trip believing her sullied or indelibly marked by Xandyrothol’s stupid kiss. Even as she had the thought, she knew it was silly. Trip would only care that she’d been hurt.

That someone mauled you? Of course it bothers me. I’d kill him if your attack dragon hadn’t already handled that.

She smiled, having gotten exactly the answer she expected. I understand you did quite a bit of damage before she got to him. She was disappointed you’d already put him through the wringer, and I think even a little impressed by your power. She met his eyes and rubbed his chest through his shirt while deciding not to mention that Shulina Arya would consider him as a mate if Rysha ever gave him up. She had no intention of giving him up.

She would be less impressed if she knew I’d sat there and let your brothers gossip about me loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Well, I would have objected if you’d beaten them up.

I wasn’t thinking of doing that, but Azarwrath… well, maybe he’s right. Maybe I should let a little of my scylori, as you all call it, out when people are being disrespectful. But I don’t want to be an ass or a bully. Maybe it’s good for my humility to be disrespected now and then.

Rysha felt bad that her family had made him feel picked on. Even if he hadn’t said those exact words, it was true. She should have stood up for him more. She was just so used to keeping her mouth shut, to not wanting to create a confrontation and drama within her own household. As a girl, she’d always run and hidden in her room and read a book if things hadn’t gone her way. Maybe she needed to get some scylori too. Or a backbone. Why was it so much easier to deal with mortal enemies than one’s own family?

I don’t know about that, she replied. If you let people walk on you because you’re afraid to use your power on them, then you’ll be frustrated and resentful, and it might build up inside of you until you end up lashing out, and then regretting it.

True. That used to happen a lot in school, me getting frustrated and resentful. I only lashed out a couple of times because I was terrified people would realize I had dragon blood, and my life would be over. Instead, I’d go back into my grandfather’s workshop and cut a bunch of wood and build something until I calmed down.

We’re not dissimilar people, you know, Trip.

I’ve noticed that. But you’re much prettier than I am.

It’s my spectacles. I’ve been told they add to my sex appeal.

Have you?

Actually, no, but I always wished someone would say that.

Hm. He shifted from stroking his hand through her hair to holding the back of her head and massaging his fingers into her scalp.

When she leaned back into his hand, relishing his strong touch, he lowered his mouth to hers for a kiss. She returned it enthusiastically, suddenly not caring if Shulina Arya ever came back.

Much too soon, he broke the kiss and drew back, but only a few inches. He gazed into her eyes.

“What?” she whispered.

“I was considering your spectacles.”

“And agreeing that they do add to my sex appeal?”

“Naturally. Should I get some for myself?”

“Would they still let you fly if you were half-blind?”

“Hm, perhaps not.” He lifted a finger and touched the corner of her frames, seeming thoughtful.

“You’re envying me my sexy accoutrements right now, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, but didn’t answer. She wondered what he was thinking about.

After a quiet moment, she said, “To answer your earlier musings, I think you could let a little of your heritage show without being a bully or seeming arrogant, if that’s what you’re worrying about. Remember when we first walked into Lagresh with the wagon? You were radiating a presence that made people not want to disturb you or get in your way. Maybe it was a little too much for using around friends, but is there a halfway version? You don’t have to ooze magic for my sake, just so you know, but it’s not like it would be disingenuous for you to let your hair down. Or let your scales show.”

Trip snorted. “If I ever get scaly, I’m going to be concerned. I’ll have to see Dr. Targoson. I hear he makes medicinal creams as well as bullets and acids for slaying dragons.”

“He sounds like a handy man.”

“Can I—this will sound silly, but can I practice on you?”

“Your aura?”

“Yeah. A low to medium level of it.”

She patted him on the chest. “You make it sound like a phonograph.”

“You’re welcome to sing along if you want.”

Rysha gazed at him, curious as to if she would notice a change when they were standing here in the dark. It wasn’t as if she had magical senses to detect auras. Before, when she’d noticed him radiating power, it had been something she’d seen with her eyes, or so she’d believed. He’d projected a presence that anyone would have noticed, but it could simply have been a matter of confidence and body language.

Still, as they stood there, looking at each other, little visible in the dark, she started to feel drawn toward him. It seemed silly, since they were already standing chest to chest, his arms around her, but she had the urge to bury her face in his chest and rub her cheek against him, to breathe in his scent and press herself as tightly to him as possible.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, he murmured into her mind.

Even though the words came as a whisper, they seemed to resonate more than usual. They didn’t thunder painfully in her head the way Shulina Arya’s did sometimes when she spoke, but there was a sense of power to them, something appealing.

I can feel you getting, uhm.

I can feel you too. She smirked.

Some of the draw lessened as he did something to adjust his scylori. Rysha was surprised how noticeable those adjustments were to someone like her.

I don’t know how to do it without making it sexual, he told her.

I think that’s typical. Almost like letting the power out also releases pheromones. I wonder if it’s anything that would be measurable with modern instrumentation. We could do some experiments on it in a laboratory.

You want to experiment on me?

He sounded amused, so she didn’t think she had offended him.

Just on your scylori.

It’s attached to me.

That’s not quite the right word. It’s something you can hide or project to different degrees, isn’t it? Consciously? What’s it like if you don’t try to hide it, but also don’t try to exude it?

Trip hesitated, then she sensed the return of his allure, the increasing of her attraction, but something more as well. She could almost make out his face even though the light level hadn’t increased. She reached up to touch his cheek, feeling something similar to what she felt when Shulina Arya was close, a knowledge that she was in the presence of power, and also that she was safe here in its shadow. In his shadow. She felt a particular pleasure in knowing he had his arms around her, claiming her as his. She wanted to be his.

All the nearby insects and animals fell silent. The mournful howl of a wolf came from the distance. A coincidence, or did the animal sense him even from afar? Maybe that was a protest from the wolf, a complaint that a greater predator was here in the valley.

It seemed strange to think of Trip that way and yet that was what his heritage deemed him to be.

“Are you more comfortable like this?” she asked. “Not hiding anything?”

Another hesitation, and from it, she guessed the answer to be yes.

“I’m not comfortable with the way people react, but yes, it’s a relief to just, as you said, let my hair down. It’s like tearing off soggy clothes and being free to walk around naked.”

She chuckled, but then made the mistake of imagining him naked. She realized she was rubbing his chest again—or maybe she had never stopped.

“Your colleagues in Wolf Squadron may not be ready for this, but if you want to walk around naked with me, you can. I’ll get used to it. I’m getting used to Shulina Arya. Admittedly, her aura doesn’t inspire me to have lurid fantasies, but I’ll still get used to it. Or I’ll constantly drag you to bed.”

“Oh? If I’d known that would happen, I would have been stripping naked for you all the time.” He returned to rubbing the back of her head, and she wondered if he was thinking about nudity and beds right now. Neither the gravel of the road, nor the wet grass alongside it seemed inspiring places for sex, but if he kept massaging her scalp like that, she would drag him off into the brambles if need be.

“I have to go for training with Sardelle tomorrow morning,” he said, “but I’ll help you figure out what’s going on here with Lockvale. If your family is in jeopardy, I’ll make sure they’re protected.”

A little shiver went through her, maybe because she knew he could protect them.

“They were all snotty to you tonight and don’t deserve your help, but I do appreciate the offer.”

“Good. I like it when you’re appreciative.” He brought his lips to hers for another kiss, and she sensed him grinning. He drew back. “Do you think your father would be appreciative if I made him an automated apple picker?”

Remembering their earlier conversation, she said, “You haven’t been thinking about how to make one the whole time we’ve been talking have you?”

“Not the whole time.”

Rysha returned his grin. As sexy as she found his powerful aura, it was the rest of him that she loved. She pushed her hands up under his shirt, letting them roam boldly as she kissed him. His hands also roamed, rubbing her hip and the back of her neck, and warm tendrils of his power embraced her, then seemed to be within her, lighting every nerve. The grass and the gravel started to sound more appealing.

Greetings, Storyteller! an overly perky voice spoke into her mind.

Your dragon is back, Trip informed her, though his lips didn’t leave hers.

He squeezed her butt, pulling her tight against him, and she got the feeling that he didn’t care if Shulina Arya sat on the road and watched. Rysha might not have either if not for the dragon’s comments earlier in the day.

She’ll take us to my room in the barracks, Rysha said. It’ll be better than the gravel.

I was not able to catch the silver, I am ashamed to admit. The flap of wings sounded over the gentle lapping of the lake, and the great gold dragon landed in the gravel with a light crunch. He must have entered races in his hatchling days. I wouldn’t have believed a mere silver could move so quickly. I was unable to interrogate him, alas, so I do not know why he was lurking above your home, Storyteller. Your castle! This place is so much more appealing than your tiny stall at the soldier fort. Why do you not live here all the time?

Rysha didn’t want to stop kissing Trip and might not have, but he drew back—he must have heard all that burble too. It was something of a mood-killer, though if he’d kept kissing her and rubbing her neck, she might have been able to block it out. She took satisfaction in the quickness of Trip’s breaths, of knowing he would have happily rolled around in the wet grass with her if they hadn’t been interrupted. Either that, or he was excited thinking about mechanical apple pickers.

He rubbed his nose against hers. What excites me is that you like it when I fantasize about apple pickers.

She couldn’t truly object. She did like his quirky engineer side.

Storyteller?

Yes, Shulina Arya. Reluctantly, Rysha lowered her arms and stepped away, though he hadn’t dampened down his aura, and she found it difficult to walk away from him instead of toward him. Thank you for trying to catch the silver. Maybe next time, we can set a trap. It’s my understanding that this dragon has been harassing my family.

A trap? Trip mused.

Goodness, did I give you something besides apple pickers to fantasize about?

Maybe.

She patted him on the arm, found his hand, and led him toward the dragon.

Your mate looks much healthier, Storyteller.

Rysha felt a moment of confusion before she realized Shulina Arya must mean Trip’s aura. Of course, she would have the ability to sense it too.

You think he should let his scylori out all the time?

Of course. This is natural.

Rysha looked at Trip, suspecting he’d heard that. Would he change? She didn’t know.