face as that wind swept over her, and she shivered. Without conscious thought, Arysteon repositioned himself in front of the opening, blocking as much of it as he could with his body.
Lightning flashed outside, but little of its light entered the chamber; Arysteon felt it more than he saw it. A peal of thunder followed a few heartbeats later as he eased himself down onto his belly.
His tail curled toward the humans of its own accord, settling on the floor with its tip nearly within arm’s reach of the female.
She removed her bag, placing it on the floor beside her, and added some more sticks to the fire before glancing over her shoulder at Arysteon. “Do you…have a name?”
“I am called Arysteon.”
“Arysteon,” she repeated softly. She lifted the hatchling with one arm, using the other to spread out the wet, fallen blanket in front of the fire. “I…must admit I did not expect you to have one.”
“You did not expect me to have a name?”
“I did not know your kind even existed anymore. Dragons were nothing more than old stories to my people, and most of those stories make you seem like”—she cringed—“beasts.” She reached up to uncurl the hatchling’s fingers from her hair, though her eyes remained on Arysteon. “I am sorry. I mean no offense.”
Arysteon couldn’t hold back an amused snort, and made no effort to stop the chuckle that followed it. “I take no insult from your words, female. There is no shortage of dragons whose behavior is more befitting of beasts. Or at least there was no shortage, many years ago.” He cocked his head. “I have heard you call the little one Serek. Is it male or female?”
She opened her bag, withdrawing a larger, dry blanket and wrapping it loosely around the hatchling’s shoulders. She sat him on the floor beside her, and there was a hint of sorrow in her voice as she said, “He is male.”
Though he did not know the reason for her sadness, Arysteon felt it tugging at his heart, coaxing him to move closer, to comfort her. He laid his head on the floor instead, keeping an eye toward the humans. There was no reason to move closer—it would only enhance the risks of an unwelcome touch.
But is her touch truly so unwelcome?
Arysteon thrust that thought aside; he would not allow his mind to wander along that path any farther. “And what is your name, female?”
She looked at him. Her eyes, now brightened by firelight, were the same pale green as hanging moss, or of long midsummer grass. “I am Leyloni.”
“Leyloni,” he purred, unintentionally producing a hum in his throat. That hint of music seemed to suit her name perfectly. “It has been a long while since I have seen any humans.”
She tilted her head. “You have been around humans before?”
“I have, though the last encounter occurred a great many years ago.”
Serek’s eyes fluttered, his head lolled, and his body tipped backward. The hatchling jerked as though suddenly waking and released a small cry. Leyloni made soft, soothing sounds and guided Serek to lie down, adjusting the cloth she’d wrapped around him to cover a little more of his skin. The whelpling made another tiny whimper and settled, eyes closing.
Arysteon again found himself battling a longing to move closer, to croon to the whelping, to offer comfort and security.
“Is that why you speak my language?” Leyloni asked, drawing his attention back to her. She was leaning forward as she unlaced her foot coverings.
“Yes. I cannot speak for other sorts of dragons, but my clan dealt frequently with humans. The draconic tongue is rather difficult for humans to speak. My elders always said it was easier for us to learn your language than for you to learn ours.”
She tugged off her foot coverings and set them next to the fire. “Where are your clanmates?”
A pang of loss, sadness, and guilt struck Arysteon’s heart, making his spark stutter. His immortality mattered naught in this—whether it had been one day or ten thousand years, his sorrow would always remain.
“They have all long since passed. Some wandered off to seek their own way, many more perished. So far as I know, only I remain.”
Leyloni frowned and looked away, but not before Arysteon glimpsed the raw grief in her eyes. “I am sorry for the loss of your clan.”
“I have made peace with it.”
She settled her gaze on Serek again. “Peace does not mean your heart has healed.”
Arysteon could barely resist his compulsion to go