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Chapter One

“You’re going to be on your knees saying prayers for hours if Lady Alice finds you here.”

I jumped at the low, gravelly voice, but my heart stopped beating quite so rapidly when I saw who had discovered me. “By the rood, Ulric! You almost scared the humors right out of my belly!”

“Aye, I’ve no doubt I did,” the old man replied, lean­ing on a battered hoe. “Due to your guilty conscience, I’m thinking. Aren’t you supposed to be in the solar with the other women?”

I patted the earth around the early-blooming rose that I had cleared of weeds, and snorted in a delicate, ladylike way. “I was excused.”

“Oh, you were, were you? And for what? Not to leave off your sewing and leeching and all those other things Lady Alice tries to teach you.”

I got to my feet, dusting the dirt off my knees and hands, looking down my nose at the smaller man, d ing my best to intimidate him even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good --- Ulric had known me since I was a wee babe puling in her swaddling clothes. “And what business is it of yours, good sir?”

He grinned, his teeth black and broken. “You can come over the lady right enough, when you like. Now, what I’m wanting to know is whether you have your mother’s leave to be here in the garden, or if you’re sup­posed to be up learning the proper way to be a lady.”

I kicked at a molehill. “I was excused…to use the privy. You know how bad they are --- I needed fresh air to recover from the experience.”

“You’ve had enough, judging by the weeding you’ve done. Get yourself back to the solar with the other women before your mother has my hide for letting you stay out here.”

“I…er, can’t.”

“And why can’t you?” he asked, obviously suspicious.

I cleared my throat and tried to adopt an expression that did not contain one morsel of guilt. “There was an…incident.”

“Oh, aye?” The expression of suspicion deepened. “What sort of an incident?”

“Nothing serious. Nothing of importance.” I plucked a dead leaf from a rosebush. “Nothing of my doing, which you quite obviously believe, a fact that I find most insulting.”

“What sort of an incident?” he repeated, ignoring my protests of innocence and outrage.

I threw away the dried leaf and sighed. “It’s Lady Susan.”

“What have you done to your mother’s cousin now?”

“Nothing! I just happened to make up some spider­wort tea, and mayhap I did leave it in the solar next to her chair, along with a mug and a small pot of honey, but how was I to know she’d drink all of it? Besides, I thought everyone knew that spiderwort root tea un­plugs your bowels something fierce.”

Ulric stared at me as if it were my bowels that had run free and wild before him.

“Her screams from the privy were so loud, Mother said I might be excused for a bit while she sought one of Papa’s guards to break down the privy door, because her ladies were worried that Lady Susan had fallen in and was stuck in the chute.”

The look turned to one of unadulterated horror.

“I just hope she looks on the positive side of the whole experience,” I added, tamping down the molehill with the toe of my shoe.

“God’s blood, you’re an unnatural child. What posi­tive side is there to spewing out your guts while stuck in the privy?”

I gave him a lofty look. “Lady Susan always had hor­rible wind. It was worse than the smell from the jakes! The spiderwort tea should clear her out. By rights, she should thank me.”

Ulric cast his gaze skyward and muttered something under his breath.

“Besides, I can’t go inside now. Mother said for me to stay out of her way because she is too busy getting ready for whoever it is who’s visiting Father.”

That wasn’t entirely true --- my mother had actually snapped at me to get out from underfoot and do some­thing helpful other than offer suggestions on how to break down the privy door, and what could be more helpful than tending the garden? The whole keep was gearing up for a visit from some important guest, and I would not want the garden to shame her.

“Get ye gone,” Ulric said, shooing me out of the gar­den. “Else I’ll tell your mother how you’ve spent the last few hours rather than tending to your proper chores. If you’re a good lass, perhaps I’ll help you with those roses later.”

I smiled, feeling as artless as a girl of seventeen could feel, and dashed out of the haven that was the garden and along the dark overhang that led into the upper bai­ley. It was a glorious almost-summer morning, and my father’s serfs were going about their daily tasks with less complaint than was normal. I stopped by the stable to check on the latest batch of kittens, picking out a pretty black-and-white one that I would beg my mother to let me keep, and was just on the way to the kitchen to see if I couldn’t wheedle some bread and cheese from the cooks when the dull thud of several horses’ hooves caught my attention.

I stood in the kitchen door and watched as a group of four men rode into the bailey, all armed for battle.

“Ysolde! What are you doing here? Why aren’t you up in the solar tending to Lady Susan? Mother was look­ing for you.” Margaret, my older sister, emerged from the depths of the kitchen to scold me.

“Did they get her out of the privy, then?” I asked in all innocence. Or what I hoped passed for it.

“Aye.” Her eyes narrowed on me. “It was odd, the door being stuck shut that way. Almost as if someone had done something to it.”

I made my eyes as round as they would go, and threw in a few blinks for good measure. “Poor, poor Lady Susan. Trapped in the privy with her bowels running amok. Think you she’s been cursed?”

“Aye, and I know by what. Or rather, who.” She was clearly about to shift into a lecture when movement in the bailey caught her eye. She glanced outside the door­way and quickly pulled me backwards, into the dimness of the kitchen. “You know better than to stand about when Father has visitors.”

“Who is it?” I asked, looking around her as she peered out at the men.

“An important mage.” She held a plucked goose to her chest as she watched the men. “That must be him, in the black.”

All of the men were armed, their swords and mail glinting brightly in the sun, but only one did not wear a helm. He dismounted, lifting his hand in greeting as my father hurried down the steps of the keep.

“He doesn’t look like any mage I’ve ever seen,” I told her, taking in the man’s easy movements under what must be at least fifty pounds of armor. “He looks more like a warlord. Look, he’s got braids in his hair, just like that Scot who came to see Father a few years ago. What do you think he wants?”

“Who knows? Father is renowned for his powers; no doubt this mage wants to consult him on arcane matters.”

“Hrmph. Arcane matters,” I said, aware I sounded grumpy.

Her mouth quirked on one side. “I thought you weren’t going to let it bother you anymore.”

“I’m not. It doesn’t,” I said defensively, watching as my father and the warlord greeted each other. “I don’t care in the least that I didn’t inherit any of Father’s abili­ties. You can have them all.”

“Whereas you, little changeling, would rather muck about in the garden than learn how to summon a ball of blue fire.” Margaret laughed, pulling a bit of grass from where it had been caught in the laces on my sleeve.

“I’m not a changeling. Mother says I was a gift from God, and that’s why my hair is blond when you and she and Papa are redheads. Why would a mage ride with three guards?”

Margaret pulled back from the door, nudging me aside. “Why shouldn’t he have guards?”

“If he’s as powerful a mage as Father, he shouldn’t need anyone to protect him.” I watched as my mother curtseyed to the stranger. “He just looks . . wrong. For a mage.”

“It doesn’t matter what he looks like --- you are to stay out of the way. If you’re not going to tend to your duties, you can help me. I’ve got a million things to do, what with two of the cooks down with some sort of a pox, and Mother busy with the guest. Ysolde? Ysolde!”

I slipped out of the kitchen, wanting a better look at the warlord as he strode after my parents into the tower that held our living quarters. There was some­thing about the way the man moved, a sense of coiled power, like a boar before it charges. He walked with grace despite the heavy mail, and although I couldn’t see his face, long ebony hair shone glossy and bright as a raven’s wing.

The other men followed after him, and although they, too, moved with the ease that bespoke power, they didn’t have the same air of leadership.

I trailed behind them, careful to stay well back lest my father see me, curious to know what this strange warrior-mage wanted. I had just reached the bottom step as all but the last of the mage’s party entered the tower, when that guard suddenly spun around.

His nostrils flared, as if he’d smelled something, but it wasn’t that which sent a ripple of goose bumps down my arms. His eyes were dark, and as I watched them, the pupils narrowed, like a cat’s when brought from the dark stable out into the sun. I gasped and spun around, running in the other direction, the sound of the strange man’s laughter following me, mocking me, echoing in my head until I thought I would scream.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

My eyelids, leaden weights that they were, finally managed to hoist themselves open. I stared directly into the dark brown eyes of a woman whose face was located less than an inch from mine, and screamed in surprise. “Aaagh!”

She leaped backwards as I sat up, my heart beating madly, a faint, lingering pain leaving me with the sensa­tion that my brain itself was bruised.

“Who are you? Are you part of the dream? You are, aren’t you? You’re just a dream,” I said, my voice a croak. I touched my lips. They were dry and cracked. “Except those people were in some sort of medieval clothing, and you’re wearing pants. Still, it’s incredibly vivid, this dream. It’s not as interesting as the last one, but still in­teresting and vivid. Very vivid. Enough that I’m lying here babbling to myself during it.”

“I’m not a dream, actually,” the in-my-face dream woman said. “And you’re not alone, so if you’re bab­bling, it’s to me.”

I knew better than to leap off the bed, not with the sort of headache I had. Slowly, I slid my legs off the edge of the bed, and wondered if I stood up, if I’d stop dream­ing and wake up to real life.

As I tried to stand, the dream lady seized my arm, holding on to me as I wobbled on my unsteady feet.

Her grip was anything but dreamlike. “You’re real,” I said with surprise.

“Yes.”

“You’re a real person, not part of the dream?”

“I think we’ve established that fact.”

I felt an irritated expression crawl across my face --- crawl because my brain hadn’t yet woken up with the rest of me. “If you’re real, would you mind me asking why you were bent over me, nose-to-nose, in the worst sort of Japanese-horror-movie way, one that guaranteed I’d just about wet myself the minute I woke up?”

“I was checking your breathing. You were moaning and making noises like you were going to wake up.”

“I was dreaming,” I said, as if that explained everything.

“So you’ve said. Repeatedly.” The woman, her skin the color of oiled mahogany, nodded. “It’s good. You are beginning to remember. I wondered if the dragon within would not speak to you in such a manner.”

Dim little warning bells went off in my mind, the sort that are set off when you’re trapped in a small room with someone who is obviously a few weenies short of a cookout. “Well, isn’t this just lovely. I feel like something a cat crapped, and I’m trapped in a room with a crazy lady.” I clapped a hand over my mouth, appalled that I spoke the words rather than just thought them. “Did you hear that?” I asked around my fingers.

She nodded.

I let my hand fall. “Sorry. I meant no offense. It’s just that . . well .you know. Dragons? That’s kind of out there.”

A slight frown settled between her brows. “You look a bit confused.”

“You get the understatement-of-the-year tiara. Would it be rude to ask who you are?” I gently rubbed my fore­head, letting my gaze wander around the room.

“My name is Kaawa. My son is Gabriel Tauhou, the silver wyvern.”

“A silver what?”

She was silent, her eyes shrewd as they assessed me. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

“That I ask questions or rub my head? It doesn’t matter --- both are, yes. I always ask questions because I’m a naturally curious person. Ask anyone; they’ll tell you. And I rub my head when it feels like it’s been stomped on, which it does.”

Another silence followed that statement. “You are not what I expected.”

My eyebrows were working well enough to rise at that statement. “You scared the crap out of me by star­ing at me from an inch away, and I’m not what you ex­pected? I don’t know what to say to that since I don’t have the slightest idea who you are, other than your name is Kaawa and you sound like you’re Australian, or where I am, or what I’m doing here beyond napping. How long have I been sleeping?”

She glanced at the clock. “Five weeks.”

I gave her a look that told her she should know better than to try to fool me. “Do I look like I just rolled off the gullible wagon? Wait --- Gareth put you up to this, didn’t he? He’s trying to pull my leg.”

“I don’t know a Gareth,” she said, moving toward the end of the bed.

“No…” I frowned as my mind, still groggy from the aftereffects of a long sleep, slowly chugged to life. “You’re right. Gareth wouldn’t do that --- he has abso­lutely no sense of humor.”

“You fell into a stupor five weeks and two days ago. You have been asleep ever since.”

A chill rolled down my spine as I read the truth in her eyes. “That can’t be.”

“But it is.”

“No.” Carefully, very carefully, I shook my head. “It’s not time for one; I shouldn’t have one for another six months. Oh god, you’re not a deranged madwoman from Australia who lies to innocent people, are you? You’re telling me the truth! Brom! Where’s Brom?”

“Who is Brom?”

Panic had me leaping to my feet when my body knew better. Immediately, I collapsed onto the floor with a loud thud. My legs felt like they were made of rubber, the muscles trembling with strain. I ignored the pain of the fall and clawed at the bed to get back to my feet. “A phone. Is there a phone? I must have a phone.”

The door opened as I stood up, still wobbling, the floor tilting and heaving under my feet.

“I heard a --- oh. I see she’s up. Hello, Ysolde.”

“Hello.” My stomach lurched along with the floor. I clung to the frame of the bed for a few seconds until the world settled down the way it should be. “Who are you?”

She shot a puzzled look to the other woman. “I’m May. We met before, don’t you remember?”

“Not at all. Do you have a phone, May?”

If she was surprised by that question, she didn’t let on. She simply pulled a cell phone out of the pocket of her jeans and handed it to me. I took it, staring at her for a moment. There was something about her, something that seemed familiar . . and yet, I was sure I’d never seen her before.

Mentally, I shook away the fancies and began to punch in a phone number, but paused when I realized I had no idea where I was. “What country is this?”

May and Kaawa exchanged glances. May answered. “England. We’re in London. We thought it was better not to move you very far, although we did take you out of Drake’s house since he was a bit crazy, what with the twins being born and all.”

“London,” I said, struggling to peer into the black abyss that was my memory. There was nothing there, but that wasn’t uncommon after an episode. Luckily, a few wits remained to me, including the ability to remember my phone number.

The phone buzzed gently against my ear. I held my breath, counting the rings before it was answered.

“Yeah?”

“Brom,” I said, wanting to weep with relief at the sound of his placid, unruffled voice. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Where are you?”

“London.” I slid a glance toward the small, dark-haired woman who looked like she could have stepped straight out of some silent movie. “With . . uh .some people.” Crazy people, or sane .that was yet to be determined.

“You’re still in London? I thought you were only going to be there for three days. You said three days, Sullivan. It’s been over a month.”

I heard the note of hurt in his voice. I hated that. “I know. I’m sorry. I . . something happened. Something big.”

“What kind of big?” he asked, curious now.

“I don’t know. I can’t think,” I said, being quite lit­eral. My brain felt like it was soaking in molasses. “The people I’m with took care of me while I was sleeping.”

“Oh, that kind of big. I figured it was something like that. Gareth was pissed when you didn’t come back. He called your boss and chewed him out for keeping you so long.”

“Oh, no,” I said, my shoulders slumping as I thought of the powerful archimage to whom I was an apprentice.

“It was really cool! You should have heard it. Dr. Ko­stich yelled at Gareth, and told him to stop calling, and that you were all right, but he wouldn’t say where you were because Gareth was always using you. And then Gareth said he’d better watch out because he wasn’t the only one who could make things happen, and then Ko­stich said oh yeah, and Gareth said yeah, his sister-in-law was a necromancer, and then Ruth punched him in the arm and bit his ear so hard it bled, and after that, I found a dead fox. Can I have fifty dollars to buy some natron?”

I blinked at the stream of information pouring into my ear, sorting out what must have been a horrible scene with Dr. Kostich, finally ending up on the odd request. “Why do you need natron?”

Brom sighed. “ ’Cause I found the dead fox. It’s going to need a lot of natron to mummify.”

“I really don’t think we need the mummy of a fox, Brom.”

“It’s my hobby,” he said, his tone weary. “You said I needed a hobby. I got one.”

“When you said you were interested in mummies, I thought you meant the Egyptian ones. I didn’t realize you meant you wanted to make your own.”

“You didn’t ask,” he pointed out, and with that, I could not dispute.

“We’ll talk about it when I get back. I suppose I should talk to Gareth,” I said, not wanting to do any such thing.

“Can’t. He’s in Barcelona.”

“Oh. Is Ruth there?”

“No, she went with him.”

Panic gripped me. “You’re not alone, are you?”

“Sullivan, I’m not a child,” he answered, sounding in­dignant that I would question the wisdom gained during his lifetime, all nine years of it. “I can stay by myself.”

“Not for five weeks you can’t --- ”

“It’s OK. When Ruth and Gareth left, and you didn’t come back, Penny said I could stay with her until you came home.”

I sagged against the bed, unmindful of the two women watching me so closely. “Thank the stars for Penny. I’ll be home just as soon as I can get on a plane. Do you have a pen?”

“Sec.”

I covered the phone and looked at the woman named May. “Is there a phone number I can give my son in case of an emergency?”

“Your son?” she asked, her eyes widening. “Yes. Here.”

I took the card she pulled from her pocket, reading the number off it to Brom. “You stay with Penny until I can get you, all right?”

“Geez, Sullivan, I’m not a ’tard.”

“A what?” I asked.

“A ’tard. You know, a retard.”

“I’ve asked you not to use those sorts of . . oh, never mind. We’ll discuss words that are hurtful and should not be used another time. Just stay with Penny, and if you need me, call me at the number I gave you. Oh, and Brom?”

“What?” he asked in that put-upon voice that nine-year-old boys the world over can assume with such ease.

I turned my back on the two women. “I love you bunches. You remember that, OK?”

“ ’K.” I could almost hear his eyes rolling. “Hey, Sul­livan, how come you had your thing now? I thought it wasn’t supposed to happen until around Halloween.”

“It isn’t, and I don’t know why it happened now.”

“Gareth’s going to be pissed he missed it. Did you . . you know .manifest the good stuff?”

My gaze moved slowly around the room. It seemed like a pretty normal bedroom, containing a large bureau, a bed, a couple of chairs and a small table with a ruffly cloth on it, and a white stone fireplace. “I don’t know. I’ll call you later when I have some information about when I’ll be landing in Madrid, all right?”

“Later, French mustachioed waiter,” he said, using his favorite childhood rhyme.

I smiled at the sound of it, missing him, wishing there was a way to magically transport myself to the small, overcrowded, noisy apartment where we lived so I could hug him and ruffle his hair, and marvel yet again that such an intelligent, wonderful child was mine.

“Thank you,” I said, handing the cell phone back to May. “My son is only nine. I knew he would be worried about what happened to me.”

“Nine.” May and Kaawa exchanged another glance. “Nine . . years?”

“Yes, of course.” I sidled away, just in case one or both of the women turned out to be crazy after all. “This is very awkward, but I’m afraid I have no memory of ei­ther of you. Have we met?”

“Yes,” Kaawa said. She wore a pair of loose-fitting black palazzo pants and a beautiful black top embroi­dered in silver with all sorts of Aboriginal animal designs. Her hair was twisted into several braids, pulled back into a short ponytail. “I met you once before, in Cairo.”

“Cairo?” I prodded the solid black mass that was my memory. Nothing moved. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been in Cairo. I live in Spain, not Egypt.”

“This was some time ago,” the woman said carefully.

Perhaps she was someone I had met while travelling with Dr. Kostich. “Oh? How long ago?”

She looked at me silently for a moment, then said, “About three hundred years.”

Chapter Two

“Ysolde is awake again,” May said as the door to the study was opened.

I looked up from where I had been staring down into the cup of coffee cradled in my hands. Two men entered the room, both tall and well-built, and curiously enough, both with grey eyes. The first one who entered paused at May’s chair, his hand smoothing over her short hair as he looked me over. I returned the look, noting skin the color of milky coffee, a close-cut goatee, and shoulder-length dreadlocks.

“Again?” the man asked.

“She fainted after she woke up the first time.”

I eyed him. After the last hour, I’d given up the idea that May and Kaawa were potentially dangerous --- they let me have a shower, had promised to feed me, and had given me coffee, and crazy people seldom did any of that.

“Ah. No ill effects from it, I hope?” he asked.

“Not unless you call fifty-two elephants tap-dancing in combat boots while bouncing anvils on my brain an ill effect,” I said, gazing longingly at the bottle of ibuprofen.

“No more,” May said, moving it out of my reach. “You’ll poison yourself if you take any more.”

I sipped my coffee with obnoxious noisiness as pun­ishment for her hard-heartedness.

“I’m afraid there is little I can do for a headache.” He nodded toward the man with him. “Tipene, when we are done here, e-mail Dr. Kostich and let him know his ap­prentice has recovered.”

The second man was also black, but with much shorter dreadlocks. He nodded. Beneath the light-colored T-shirt he wore, I could see thick black curved lines that indicated he bore rather detailed tribal tat­toos across his chest.

“We were just having some coffee while waiting for lunch,” May continued, smiling up at the first man. “Ysolde says her brain is a bit fuzzy still.”

“Not so fuzzy that I can’t correct something that’s se­riously wrong,” I said, setting my cup down. I addressed the man who stood next to May. “I assume you’re Ga­briel Tao…Tow…”

“Tauhou,” he said, his eyes narrowed as he searched my face.

“Sorry, I have the memory of maple syrup when it comes to people’s names. I was trying to tell your…er…” I waved vaguely toward May.

“Mate,” he said.

“Quite.” I didn’t even blink over the odd word to use for a partner. What people called their significant oth­ers in the privacy of their own homes was not one iota

my business. “I was just trying to tell her that I think you have me mistaken for someone else. My name isn’t Ysolde. It’s Tully, Tully Sullivan.”

“Indeed,” he said politely, taking the seat that May had been using. She perched on the arm of the chair in­stead, not touching him, but I could sense the electricity between them.

“I’m an apprentice mage,” I explained. “You men­tioned contacting Dr. Kostich --- I’m sure he’d be happy to tell you that you’ve got me confused with someone else.”

“Whether or not you are a mage remains to be seen. That you are Kostich’s apprentice, we know. You were introduced to us by him almost two months ago, when you came to the home of the green wyvern to prevent an attack.”

“Wyvern?” The word was mentioned earlier, but it took until now to sink in through the fog wrapped around my brain. If it meant what I thought it did, it would go a long way to explaining their odd behavior. “The kind that are . . oh! That’s why you mentioned dragons. You’re them, right? Dragons?”

“My father is a dragon, and May is my mate,” Gabriel said, taking May’s hand. “Tipene is also a silver dragon, as is Maata, whom you will meet shortly. As, I need not say, are you.”

I would have laughed, but my brain was still slogging along at a snail’s pace. I gave him what I hoped was a jaunty little smile, instead. No wonder they seemed to be so very odd --- they were dragons! “You know, in a way this is very exciting. I’ve never met a dragon before. I’ve heard about you, of course. Who hasn’t? But I can as­sure you that I am not one of you. Not that there’s any­ thing wrong with, you know, being an animal. There’s nothing wrong with that at all. I’m sure some very nice people are dragons. I just don’t happen to know any other than you guys, and I just met you. Oh, hell. I’m babbling again, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Kaawa said. “But that is all right. We understand.”

“Do you?” I asked hopefully. “Good, because I don’t understand anything since I woke up, not the least of which is why you’d think I was the same as you.”

“You are Ysolde de Bouchier, silver dragon, and mate to Baltic, who used to be wyvern of the black dragons,” Kaawa said, her gaze seeming to strip away all my de­fenses and leave my soul bare. I squirmed in my chair, uncomfortable with her intense regard.

“I think I would know if I was a fire-breathing shape-shifter with a love of gold,” I said gently, not wanting to upset her because she seemed rather nice, if a bit odd. I racked my sluggish brain to remember everything I knew about dragons. “I’m afraid I don’t even know much about you folk, although there’s been some talk of you lately at the mages’ commune, since Dr. Kostich has been forced into dealing with an uncontrollable, irre­sponsible wyvern’s mate who evidently is also a demon lord. But other than that --- sorry. I’m afraid you have me mixed up with someone else.”

Doubt was evident on May’s face as she glanced down at Gabriel. “Could you be wrong?” she asked.

He looked thoughtful as his mother shook her head. “I am not wrong,” Kaawa said with determination. “Al­though I have seen Ysolde de Bouchier only once be­fore, the image of her is burned into my memory for all time. You are Ysolde.”

I rubbed my forehead, suddenly tired despite my five-week sleep. “I don’t know what I can say to prove I am who I am. You can ask Dr. Kostich. You can ask the other apprentices. I’m human. My name is Tully. I live in Spain with my son, husband, and sister-in-law.”

“Husband?” Surprise showed in Gabriel’s eyes for a few minutes before turning to amusement. “You’re mar­ried and you have a child?”

“Yes, I do, and I have to say that I don’t at all see what’s so funny about having a family,” I said, frown­ing a little at the man named Tipene as he chuckled to himself.

“Nothing is funny about it,” May said, but even she looked like she was struggling to keep from laughing. “It’s just that Baltic is kind of volatile, and when he finds out that his precious Ysolde is alive with a husband and child . . well, to be honest, he’s going to go ballistic.”

“That’s tough toenails for him, but since I’m not his precious Ysolde, I don’t particularly care.”

“I think the time will come when you will care very much,” Gabriel said, still amused.

“Doubtful. I have this policy about not wasting time on people who are big pains in the ass, and he sounds like a major one. Oh!” I grimaced. “He’s not…er…a friend of yours, is he? If that major pain in the ass com­ment was out of line, I apologize.”

May choked on the sip of coffee she was taking. Ga­briel helpfully pounded her on her back while saying, “No, he is no friend to silver dragons.”

“Gotcha,” I said lightly as I got to my feet. “This has been a really…special experience, but I should be on my way. Thank you for the coffee, and for taking care of me while I was out of things. I appreciate it, but my son has been left alone far too long, and I really need to get him from the neighbor who’s been taking care of him.”

“I don’t think it’s a very good idea for you to leave just yet,” May said slowly as she and Gabriel exchanged yet another of those knowing glances.

“Look, you seem nice and all, but I’m getting tired of saying that I’m not this person you think I am --- ” I started to say.

“No, I meant that given your physical state, it would be best for you to stay here for a few days,” she interrupted.

“My physical state? You mean the fugue?” I asked.

“Is that what you call it?”

“That’s how the psychiatrist I saw referred to it. I as­sure you that although the fugues are inconvenient for everyone, once they are over, I’m fine. A little headachy, but nothing serious.”

“You saw a psychiatrist about these…fugues?” Kaawa asked, her dark eyes watching me carefully.

“Well .yes. Once. I didn’t know what happened to me, and thought…” I sat down again, biting my lip, hesi­tant to tell them I had thought I was going crazy.

“Let’s just say I was concerned about what was causing me to have them.”

“What was the judgment of the psychiatrist?” Gabriel asked, also making me uncomfortable with his unwaver­ing gaze.

I shrugged. “I only saw him once. Gareth didn’t like me going to him.”

“Gareth is your husband?” May asked.

“Yes.” I tried to make a light little laugh, growing more and more uncomfortable in the situation. “Why do I feel like I’m playing twenty questions?”

“I’m sorry if it appears we’re grilling you,” May said with a tight little smile of her own. “It’s just that you took us all by surprise, and now even more so.”

“If you can tolerate another question…,” Kaawa said, moving over to sit next to me. I shifted on the couch to give her room, the hairs on my arms pricking at her nearness. There was something about her, some aura that led me to believe she was not a woman who tolerated either fools or lies. “When did you see the psychiatrist?”

I stared at her in surprise. “Er…when?”

She nodded, watching me with that same intent gaze.

“Well, let me think it was um…” I stared at my fingers, trying to sort through my memories to find the one I wanted, but it wasn’t there. “I don’t seem to recall.”

“A month ago? Two months ago? A year? Five years?” she asked.

“I don’t…I’m not sure,” I said, feeling as lame as I sounded.

“Let me ask you this, then --- what is your earliest memory?”

I really stared at her now. “Huh? Why would you want to know something unimportant like that?”

She smiled, and I felt suddenly bathed in a warm, golden glow of caring. “Do my questions disturb you, child?”

“No, not disturb, I just don’t see what this has to do with anything. I really have to go. My son --- ”

“ --- will be all right for another few minutes.” She waited, and I glanced around the room. The other three dragons sat watching me silently, evidently quite happy to let Kaawa conduct this strange interview. I gave a mental sigh. “Let’s see…earliest memory. I assume you mean as a child.”

“Yes. What is the first thing you remember? Your mother’s voice, perhaps? A favorite toy? Something that frightened you?”

Supposing it wouldn’t hurt to humor her, I poked again at the black mass that was my memory. Noth­ing was forthcoming. “I’m afraid I have a really crappy memory. I can’t remember anything as a child.”

She nodded again, just as if she expected that. “Your son is only nine, you said. You must remember the day you gave birth to him.”

“Of course I do --- ” I stopped when, to my horror, I realized I didn’t. I could see his face in my mind’s eye, but it was his face now, not his face as an infant. Panic swamped me. “By the rood! I don’t remember it!”

“By the rood?” May asked.

I stared at her in confusion, my skin crawling with the realization that something was seriously wrong with me. “What?”

“You said ‘by the rood.’ That’s an archaic term, isn’t it?”

“How the hell do I know?” I said, my voice rising. “I’m having a mental breakdown, and you’re worried about some silly phrase? Don’t you understand?” I leaped to my feet, grabbing the collar of May’s shirt and shaking it. “I don’t remember Brom’s first word. I don’t remember the first time he walked, or even what he looked like as a baby. I don’t remember any of it!”

Excerpted from LOVE IN THE TIME OF DRAGONS: A Novel of the Light Dragons © Copyright 2011 by Katie MacAlister. Reprinted with permission by Signet. All rights reserved.

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