Chapter 3

I raised my head, voice shaking, eyes red.

"Drakar, please. Please don't let her throw anything else. I'll pack everything myself — I'll take it all with me. I promise I won't leave a single thing behind."

Drakar flinched. He slowly released the arm he had around Lyara.

The dragonlings were still crying — thin, heartbroken sounds aimed at their father. They wanted him to touch them the way he used to. Just once.

But before Drakar could even speak—

Lyara whirled on him, eyes flooding with tears.

"Drakar. You felt something just now, didn't you? You felt sorry for her. Sorry for the young she gave you. Didn't you?!"

"I knew it. You said you were disgusted, but you never let go of her — not really!"

Drakar's brow furrowed. He moved to deny it instinctively. "That's not—"

"You promised you'd come back for me!"

Lyara's voice broke open. The tears came in a torrent.

"You stood in front of everyone and bid top price for her. The other females laughed at me for half a year after that. Said I was deluding myself, that a male like you would never choose someone like me."

"After that, no one wanted to buy me. I had to wash other people's clothes. Split firewood. Every filthy, exhausting task you can imagine — I did it all."

"One winter I ran a fever for seven days. I was barely conscious. And all I could think about, lying there burning up, was you. Wondering when you would come."

"And where were you? Were you with her? Had you already forgotten I existed?"

Her crying softened into something smaller as she pressed herself against his chest, fists beating weakly against him.

"Drakar, we'll have young of our own. I can give you so many..."

"Just stop looking at other females. Please."

The tension gradually drained from Drakar's body.

He pulled his gaze away from the dragonlings. Away from me. He raised a careful hand and wiped the tears from Lyara's face.

"Don't cry. Whatever you want, I'll do it."

The dragonlings called for him. Their voices grew thinner and thinner.

They pressed their small snouts against my fingers, their dark, luminous eyes reflecting my face back at me.

Asking a question I didn't know how to answer.

Why are we hurt, and Father won't look at us?

I just watched.

My whole face had gone numb, locked into something that wasn't quite an expression at all.

I reached out and touched each of their heads, one by one.

It took a long moment before I managed anything resembling a smile.

"It's all right, little ones."

I lowered my head and began gathering things off the ground.

Picked something up. It fell again.

I picked it up again. It fell again.

Tears dropped onto the dirt and disappeared.

In the background, Lyara was telling Drakar she wanted a new bed built — she refused to sleep in one that had been shared with another female. She wanted the vegetable garden torn out and replaced with flowers. She wanted the fence taken down.

Drakar looked in the direction she pointed.

His gaze rested on my green, tended rows for just a moment.

He looked down at me. Then he turned away.

He tucked his chin against the top of Lyara's head.

"Whatever you want."