“Reyn. Don't,” Malta begged him.

He took a breath. “You don't look a fright. You look like a tousled kitten.” His gloved hand thumbed a last tear from her face.

She walked stiffly to a little table where her toiletries were. The hairbrush on it was unfamiliar. No doubt, Reyn's family had provided it, as they did the room where she slept and the food she ate and the clothes she wore. Her family had come away from Bingtown with nothing. Nothing. They had lived on charity since they arrived here.

“Let me,” Reyn begged. He took the brush from her hand. She stared out the window as he drew it gently through her hair. “It's so thick. Like strands of heavy silk, and so black. How do you manage it? My mother always complained of my hair when I was a boy, yet I think long straight hair would be harder to manage than curls.”

“You have curly hair?” Malta asked him idly.

“Like fraying knots, my older sister tells me. When Tillamon had to comb it for me when I was little, I swear she ripped out as much as she left on my head.”

She turned to him abruptly. “Let me see you.”

He went down suddenly on one knee before her, hairbrush in hand. “Malta Vestrit, will you marry me?”

It shocked her. “Do I have a choice?” she demanded.

“Of course.” He didn't move from where he knelt.

She took a breath. “I can't, Reyn. Not yet.”

He stood easily. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her away from him. He drew the brush smoothly through her hair again. If she had hurt him, it didn't sound in his voice. “Then you can't see my face.”

“Is that a Rain Wild custom?”

“No. It's Reyn Khuprus' custom regarding Malta Vestrit. You can see me when you say you'll marry me.”

“That's ridiculous,” she protested.

“No. It's crazy. Just ask my mother or my brother. They'll tell you I'm crazy.”

“Too late. That was more news my little brother brought me. Reyn Khuprus is crazy from spending too much time in the city. You drowned in memories.”

She had spoken the words lightly, as a jest. It shocked her when he dropped the hairbrush and stood stock-still. After a moment, he asked in hushed horror, “Do they really say that of me?”

“Reyn, I jested.” She turned to face him, but he walked swiftly away from her to stare out the window.

“Drowned in memories. You can't have made that up, Malta Vestrit. It's a Rain Wild phrase. They do say that of me, don't they?”

“One little boy speaking to another . . . you know how children tell tales to impress one another, how they exaggerate-”

“How they repeat what they've heard their elders say,” he finished dully.

“I thought it was just a ... Is it truly that serious? To drown in memories?”

“Yes,” he said dully. “Yes it is. When you become dangerous, they generally give you a very gentle poison. You die in your sleep. If you are still able to sleep. Sometimes, I can still sleep. Not often, and not for long, but it makes true sleep all the sweeter.”

“The dragon,” Malta confirmed softly.

He started as if stabbed and turned to stare at her.

“From our dream,” she went on softly. How long ago that seemed.

“She threatened she would go after you, but I thought it was an idle boast.” He sounded ill.

“She-” Malta started to tell how the dragon had tormented her. Then she stopped. “She hasn't bothered me since I was hurt. She's gone.”

He was silent for a time. “I suppose when you were unconscious, she lost her link with you.”

“Can that happen?”

“I don't know. I know very little about her. Except that no one else believes in her. They all think I'm crazy.” He laughed tremulously.

She held out her hand. “Come. Let's walk. You promised me once to show me your city.”

He shook his head slowly. “I'm not supposed to go there anymore. Not unless my brother or mother deems it necessary. I promised.” There was deep loss in his voice.

“Why? Whatever for?”

He choked on a small laugh. “For you, my dear. I bargained away my city for you. They promised that if I stayed away from it, save by their leave, that if I surrendered all hope of ever freeing the dragon, they would forgive the liveship debt, and give me a man's allowance to spend as I wanted, and allow me to visit you whenever I wished.”

If she had not shared dreams with him, she would not have understood what he had given up for her. But she did know. The city was his heart. Plumbing its secrets, walking its whispering streets, coaxing its mysteries to unfold for him was his essence. He had given up the core of his being, for her.