Naerin had been waiting for two days when there was a knock at his door. He threw it open and almost throttled Pryderin as worried anger stormed up his throat. The only reason he didn’t was because the ancient dragon was holding the limp, unconscious form of Siana in his arms. He then had to contain the urge to rip her from Pryderin’s arms and close the door in the other man’s face.

Pryderin just faced his anger with aplomb, a fierce satisfaction on his face. “She is ...