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AuRon slept with one eye open. It was a trick he had never managed when he was younger, but lying in an unprotected cave off a tunnel that anyone might come down forced him to learn how to do it. Being afraid for your life sharpened the powers of concentration.

The Dragonguard was watching him. Eliam Dragonblade must have passed the word quietly among his men, for AuRon felt their eyes upon him even when they had their visors down. There were the sounds of footsteps following him when he went outdoors. Footsteps echoing in tunnels that stopped when he did. Even at feeding times, there were extra men milling about.

“Watch yourself, NooShoahk,” Varl muttered as he cleaned up the bony remains of a meal—the food was of such quality and quantity AuRon now only ate the bones richest in marrow. “Nothing’s been said to me direct, but I hear His Excellency Eliam is hoping on a fight. Word is the Dragonguard’s to stick you at any excuse.”

“That’s odd. It could be the accusations against me from Maganar.”

“Maybe it’s Starlight’s doing. He doesn’t care for rivals, as I said.”

“We’re to carry these when we’re around you,” Varl said, showing AuRon one of the special poisoned daggers carried by the Dragonguard, from its concealed sheath under his jerkin.

“I’m in your debt,” AuRon said.

“I’ve been around enough beasts to know the good from the bad,” Varl said. “You’re one of the good ones, NooShoahk.”

“I might say the same about you.”

The warning floated at the top of AuRon’s consciousness from then on. AuRon wished for another assignment, just for the chance to fly free of searching eyes and stealthy steps. He’d been through many dangerous times in his life, but except for his capture by the elves he’d always been free. It never occurred to him that he could lose his freedom without someone putting a collar about his neck and a muzzle on his snout, but that was how he felt in the caverns of the Wyrmmaster. He pitied the dragons where in, who’d never touched the sky except at the behest of a rider.

There was more on his mind than just the Dragonguard. He found himself thinking of Natasatch, her shimmering green skin and elegant frame. The thought of other dragons scrabbling at her flanks—ignoring the ancient dragon mating rituals in eager lust—made his fire bladder boil. By the egg that protected him, the next time he faced another member of the breeding stock in battle, he’d give it a fight to remember! He wanted to see her, smell her, talk to her, with such longing that sleeping with even one eye closed became an impossibility. Gentle questioning of Varl revealed that there were no subsidiary entrances to the dragonelle’s cavern, at least nothing large enough to admit any but a new hatchling.

Relief of a sort came one night as AuRon thrashed in circles, unable to settle into a comfortable position. He thought over her words, the soothing cadence of her voice, in an attempt to lull himself.

“AuRon, AuRon, if only you could be beside me. It’s all I want, more than air and sun, more than a bellyful of eggs. Just you, AuRon.”

Pleasant fantasy!

“I’d be there if I could,” AuRon imagined himself saying in return, comforting her in the damp of her cave. “I’d take you to the sky, and you’d hear my song, your scales glittering like elf-diamonds in the sun.”

“AuRon, is that you?”

Odd thing for a fantasy to say. Didn’t she see him right next to her? Didn’t she feel his tail entwining with hers? Then it occurred to him that he felt other thoughts and emotions behind the words.

“You’re still in the dragonelle cavern?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“Then we’re communicating, through many dragon-lengths of solid stone. I didn’t know it was possible. I don’t hear anyone else.”

“Our minds must have found each other,” she said.

“Are you all right?”

“As well as ever. There’s a new dragonelle here. Shadowcatch is giving all his attention to her. Poor thing, she’s barely fledged.”

“I don’t have another turn until after Starlight,” AuRon said. “I long to see you.”

“I long to see you,” she echoed.

AuRon heard footsteps. “There’s someone coming. What’s Shadowcatch like?”

“Bloated. Loud. He’s a black, a bit on the dull side.”

“His scales or his manner?” AuRon asked, a thought tickling at him.

“Both.”

There was someone at AuRon’s bay, but he pretended to be asleep.

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