His face changed. It was only for a moment. Then the lines of his jaws and eyes firmed again, and she had to wonder if it was a trick, a deception, that for a moment she had glimpsed her old friend. The man stood abruptly. The moon-pendant fell unheeded to the floor.

‘I came here to say farewell,’ he said harshly. ‘If all I wanted was a woman to spread her legs, well, Jerd would doubtless oblige. I wanted you to become all you should be, Thymara. To grow into being the sort of woman that is suited to a man like me. And you’ve changed our farewell into a stupid, childish argument about who I am. So. Have it your way. I’m leaving. I’m leaving this room, and you, and tomorrow I’m leaving the city. And if I never return, well, I’m sure you won’t regret that you turned your last chance to bid me goodbye into another one of your silly plays. I can’t waste any more time on you. Tomorrow I fly, to lead the dragons in their vengeance against Chalced. To put an end to people hunting dragons. That doesn’t seem to be something you much care about.’

The cold river of his words tumbled and bruised her on the rocks, drowning her in his acid criticism. She pointed wordlessly at the door. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she fought the sobs that tried to rise and choke her. He stalked to the door and she followed, two paces behind, out of reach. I fear him, she thought, and knew by that admission that the love she had felt for wild, silly, gentle, thoughtful Rapskal was only a memory.

He turned in the hallway, his eyes hard and glittering as jewels. ‘One more thing,’ he said coldly.

She shut the door in his face. She crossed the room and sat down on the small chair in front of the mirrored vanity. She looked at herself, at the winged Elderling Thymara.

And then she let her tears take her.

‘Dawn,’ Thymara scoffed. ‘I think the dragons meant, “After we wake up and when we feel like it.”’

‘They need the sun.’ Tats excused their late arrival. ‘And it’s important for them to have the Silver, as much as they can drink. They will fly faster and longer.’

‘And their venom will be all the more potent,’ Thymara added. ‘Sintara told me so. She said that Tintaglia had counselled them all to drink deeply before they departed.’

The small group fell silent. The force was finally massing in the middle of the Square of the Dragons as the sun approached noon. All of the dragons were going. Some, like Heeby and Kalo and Sestican, had chosen elaborate harnesses. Others had submitted grudgingly to a simple strap that secured a perch for a rider. A few, like Sintara, had refused all harness and even the idea of carrying a rider into battle. Sintara had dismissed Thymara’s offer to go with her with a brusque ‘You’d be in my way.’ Fente had listened to Tats’s ardent pleas to accompany her with great pleasure, but in the end she, too, had dismissed him. He now watched the others with undisguised envy. Davvie already perched high on Kalo, staring around him as if he had never seen Kelsingra or his fellow keepers before. A half-smile came and went on his face. Thymara watched him and wondered why all of the boys were so eager to go to war.

Reyn was going. Tintaglia was resplendent in a jewelled harness, the metallic plates fastened together with wires. She had chosen gold and a pale sky blue that set off her own indigo scaling. Next to her, Reyn wore a helm of pale blue and an Elderling tunic of the same colour. There had been no armour that fitted him. He had dismissed it with, ‘It would have been too hot and heavy anyway. And at least this time, when I travel with Tintaglia, she will not squeeze me in half with her claws as she nearly did the last time I flew with her.’

His attempt to make light of his departure with the dragon failed with his wife. Malta was not pleased to let him go and not only because she feared for him. No, she had wanted to be the one to ride the queen into battle. Her anger at what had been done to her dragon had only grown as the full tale became known. And she had old reasons of her own to wish revenge upon Chalced, as well as her more recent injuries at their hands. ‘The vengeance should be mine! I have never forgotten my days aboard a Chalcedean ship, and at their mercy. Nor will I ever forgive that they tried to kill my child!’ Only her baby’s needs had kept her in the city and on the ground.

Jerd had not wanted to go, but Veras had insisted. Thymara pitied her. Her face was pale and strange with all her hair tucked away under a helm. She gripped one of their old bows and her quiver was full of hunting arrows. She sat on the ground near her queen and looked as if she might be sick. Sylve stood beside her, looking more insubstantial than ever in the sleek-fitting armour. Harrikin stood staring at her, his heart in his eyes. His dragon had refused him. He had begged Veras to take him instead of Jerd but the queen had refused, and Ranculos had been livid with jealousy at the idea. ‘You will stay here,’ he had told his keeper, and Harrikin was left with no other choice. Nortel was going and looked almost as pleased as Rapskal about it.