‘Stay there a moment. Catch your breath. There’s something else bothering you. What is it?’ That deep gaze bored into him, demanding confidence.

As if the simple question were a glamour he could not resist, he heard himself babbling his final secret. ‘The dragon’s in my head. We’re linked. I can’t be free of her. She … she loves me. And that only makes me feel worse, because I don’t really deserve it. She’s a kind little creature …’

‘Little?’ Carson’s tone was incredulous.

‘Young, then. So young and in her own way, innocent. She’s always aware of me, and especially so when I think of her.’ Tears had begun to spill from his eyes. He was ashamed of them. Hest had always mocked him when he wept. He turned his face away from Carson and looked up at the sky. He could already feel the dragon. Relpda offered her warmth. She tried to wrap it around him, to reassure him, but he cocooned himself in his own hard misery and held her off. He felt a hand on his jaw and flinched.

‘Easy,’ Carson said. ‘No one’s going to hurt you.’ Gently he turned Sedric’s face back to his. ‘I don’t think there’s anything so terrible about someone loving you, even if she’s a dragon. So what else pushed you to this? What is so terrible you can’t live past it?’

Sedric swallowed. Carson hadn’t lifted his hand from his face. He moved his forefinger carefully to swipe away a tear. When was the last time anyone had touched him with simple kindness?

‘I’ve started to scale.’ The words came out tighter, higher pitched. He couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice. ‘Along my jawline. And on the back of my neck.’

‘It doesn’t usually happen to grown men. Let me see.’ Carson leaned up on an elbow and looked down at him intently. He walked his fingers along Sedric’s jawline. ‘Mm. You may be right. There’s a little scaling there.’ He smiled a small smile. ‘Your beard is soft as a puppy’s fur. Let me check the back of your head.’ He slid his hand around the back of Sedric’s skull, and let his fingers trace a line down the nape of his neck. ‘So you have,’ he said softly. ‘Scales.’

He took a deep breath. ‘Better and better,’ he said gently. He sounded pleased and for some reason, Sedric felt very hurt by that. Why would Carson enjoy his misfortune? And then, with his hand cupped around the back of Sedric’s neck, the hunter slowly lowered his mouth onto his and kissed him. Sedric went still with astonishment. Carson’s lips were gentle but demanding. When he broke the kiss, Sedric discovered that Carson had gathered him into his arms, holding him with strength but not cruelty. Cradling him against him. Something in him broke. He lowered his face to the rough fabric of Carson’s shirt and wept. Sobs rose out of him and broke him. He cried for all the things he’d thought he’d had but had never possessed. Wept for what he’d let Hest make him, how he’d deceived Alise, for what he’d thought of doing to Relpda. He cried because it was suddenly safe to do so. The hunter said nothing. He didn’t move other than to pull him closer. As the last tears finally left him, he felt the dragon’s affection surround him.

I know you took my blood. Even then, you did not want to kill me. You drank my blood and gave me a link to your mind, to clear my thoughts. It will be all right, Sedric. I won’t betray you. No one need ever know.

The simple acceptance and forgiveness washed through him like a flood. It tumbled him and drowned him as the wave of water had not. He could not and found that he did not wish to resist it. Mindless warmth flushed through him again, taking away all thought of his problems, washing away his despair and leaving comfort.

He felt his whole body relax.

And Carson put two fingers under his chin, lifted his face and kissed him again.

After a time, the hunter pulled his mouth away and said hoarsely, ‘If you’ve changed your mind about killing yourself, I’ve thought of something else you could do tonight.’

Sedric tried to find his own thoughts, to summon again everything that had filled him with despair. Carson must have seen it in his face.

‘Don’t,’ he suggested softly. ‘Just don’t. Not now. Don’t question it, don’t hesitate.’ He pushed his body back from Sedric’s and rose to his feet. Then he leaned over, offering Sedric a hand. He took it, felt the hunter’s rough and callused palm against his, and let Carson help him to his feet.

‘Let me take you to your room,’ Carson offered quietly.

‘Yes.’

Thymara walked away from the bonfire into the night. It should have been a good evening. The night weather was mild, her stomach was full of fish and creek greens, she had been able to bathe and wash her hair and drink all she wanted this afternoon. She had scrubbed Sintara until the arrogant queen shone bluer than any summer sky. She hadn’t praised her with words, and had been annoyed when Sintara had turned to her and said, ‘You are right in your heart. No other dragon here can compare to me.’

No thanks for her grooming had she offered. Thymara had seethed, but silently, and had soon left her. The rest of the afternoon, she helped Tats, Harrikin and Sylve groom the keeperless dragons. That had been a challenge.

Baliper had been morose and uncooperative, still mourning Warken. Spit had presented the opposite problem. Newly cheeky and dangerously aggressive, the little silver had not wanted anyone to leave off grooming him as he basked in the attention of several keepers at once. Thymara had been relieved when Alise, her hair still damp from washing, had joined them and kept him occupied. Poor Relpda had submitted to grooming, but all the while, she had kept her eyes on the Tarman, palpably missing Sedric. Thymara had felt outrage on her behalf. ‘What sort of a man allows a dragon to save him and then ignores the poor creature?’ she’d demanded of Alise. And then been jolted with surprise when Alise had defended him, saying, ‘I’m not surprised. He has problems of his own to deal with just now. It’s best to leave him alone with them.’

The copper had been more direct with her. ‘My keeper!’ she’d hissed at Thymara, and though the exhalation had been venomless, Thymara had made no more disparaging remarks about Sedric.

When evening was full and they gathered by the bonfire to bask in its heat and eat together, she had seen that the others were healing from their losses. She was glad for them. All missed Jess’s storytelling. When Davvie brought out his pipes and began to play, the music sounded thin and lonesome without Jess’s harp. Then, to the startlement of all, Bellin had come down from the Tarman, carrying her own pipes. Without fanfare, she had sat down beside Davvie and joined her music to his, wrapping his melody in an accompaniment that made it seem more than enough to fill the pipe. Stoic Swarge was more pink-cheeked than his wife, visibly prideful over her talent. The music was beautiful.

But that was when Thymara had slipped away from the company. For when she had turned to Rapskal, looking forward to sharing her astonishment and pleasure, he simply wasn’t there.

It seemed obscene and cruel that she had forgotten, even for a few moments, that he was dead and gone. It seemed a betrayal of their friendship, and suddenly the beauty of the music cut her too deeply and she had to go away from those who sat by the fire enjoying it. She’d stumbled off into the darkness until she came to the stream. There, she’d sat on a fallen tree and listened to the mutter of the water. Behind her, the light and warmth and music of the bonfire seemed to come from a different world. She wondered if she belonged in it any more.

The silence of the forest was no silence at all to her ears. The water moved, and insects ticked in bark and moss. Up above her, something small and clawed stalked through the branches; probably a little tree cat looking for lizards gone motionless with the evening chill. She listened intently, heard the final pounce and a thin squeak before the little predator gave a short purr of satisfaction and then made its purposeful exit. Probably taking its kill off to a safe place to enjoy it.