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He needs feeding, Maxim.

Ash read it over my shoulder. “I like Claire.”

“Everyone likes Claire.”

“I'm beginning to understand why you come home.”

He'd called it home without hesitation, and I busied myself with the coffee so he wouldn't see how much that single word affected me.

We ate at the old kitchen table while morning sunlight spread slowly across the floorboards. Ash talked about nothing important, which somehow made everything worse. He wanted to know whether Maurice had always been that loud, whether Luc really had banned me from the new tractor, and how many gallons of maple syrup he could reasonably steal before somebody noticed.

I answered him and laughed when appropriate, all while drinking my coffee and watching him butter toast in my kitchen as the knowledge of what I had to do sat between my shoulder blades like a physical weight.

I'd rehearsed versions of this conversation for days, and in every one, I explained first. I told Ash dragons existed, that Keegan and Ignatius were dragons, that I was one too, and only after I'd given him enough words to prepare himself did I show him what that actually meant.

Except words had caused enough trouble between us. There were too many ways to soften them and too many opportunities for me to choose the version of the truth I thought Ash could handle, when I'd already promised myself I wasn't going to do that anymore.

This time I was going to show him first and explain everything afterward.

When Ash finished his second cup of coffee, I pushed my chair back. “Come outside with me.”

He looked toward the window before his attention returned to me. “That's ominous.”

“Probably.”

His expression sharpened immediately, and I regretted sounding quite that serious.

“Ash, you're safe.”

Something in his shoulders relaxed, although not completely. “That's not actually as reassuring as you think.”

“I know.”

He studied me for another moment before getting to his feet.

“Okay.”

There was no demand for an explanation and no attempt to force the conversation before I was ready. He simply trusted me, which made what I was about to do both easier and infinitely harder.

We took the path beyond the north pasture.

The morning was cool enough that Ash had shoved his hands into the pockets of the sweatshirt I'd loaned him, and I shortened my stride without consciously deciding to because his ribs were still bothering him. He noticed, because Ash noticed everything I did for him even when he pretended otherwise, but for once he didn't complain.

We passed the horses without stopping, although Étienne called to me from the pasture and Ash immediately glanced in his direction.

“You're ignoring your favorite.”

“I don't have favorites.”

“Sure.”

Normally, I'd have argued, but today I kept walking, and Ash's humor faded as he followed.

The land dipped beyond the tree line, hiding the broad clearing from the house and barns. I'd chosen this part of the property deliberately when I'd bought the farm because the nearest road was far enough away that nobody could wander past accidentally, while the trees gave me privacy from almost every direction.

I'd shifted here hundreds of times, but I hadn't done it with someone watching since I was seventeen, when my father had been the last person to stand close enough to witness it.

The realization hit hard enough that I stopped walking.