The Sun Need Not Rise In His Presence wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t wounded, or injured. Such words were nowhere near enough. They were too limited — too easy to understand. Presence was ravaged. He was a ruin of a dragon, to the point where it was a testament to his sheer fortitude — and possibly one or more Advancements — that he was even alive. How he’d managed to make his way into their lair, I’d never know.

  There really wasn’t much left of him. His eyes were just hollow sockets, the scales and skin around them peeled away and flaking off so that I could see bone in some places. The same was true of his neck and down his back and left side, where flesh had simply withered and died, leaving his left wing and foreleg practically skeletal. I was pretty sure that I could see a shoulder blade. He wouldn’t be flying anywhere, that was for sure, and I imagined he must have been either on the ground or close to it when Behold Her struck him, or he’d have died from the impact.

  Whatever the ruby dragon’s breath had done to him, it hadn’t been instant, either. Chunks and sheets of scale and skin littered the ground beside him, along with blood and the clear liquid that wept from sores that showed through the scabs and scraps of hide that covered what remained of his side.

  I understood now why Grace had been dismissive, and why he’d been insistent that Mother not come with us. Presence was utterly helpless; my worst imaginings hadn’t been close to the reality of what he’d had suffered.

  Kira, despite Grace’s glare, had staggered forward until she stood close enough to Presence to touch him. “Please, Great One,” she said in Tekereteki, neither flinching nor taking her eyes from Presence’s empty sockets. “I am Kira. I am a healer. May I attempt to lessen your suffering?”

  “If…” Presence said in a pained wheeze. “If you can. Please.”

  “Mak, you too,” I said, giving her a nudge that motivated her to stagger forward, joining Kira by Presence’s side. “Do what you can.”

  I honestly wasn’t sure what that might be. Kira had a whole damn Rift’s worth of power in her; Mak had less, but I’d left her some when I drained her of excess magic, afraid that taking it all might harm her. They’d healed me of some pretty bad wounds with much less. But this was so far beyond anything I’d ever suffered that any comparison felt pointless. I couldn’t help but start thinking of what to do if they failed, and Grace didn’t take it well.

  If Kira was the least bit worried, she didn’t show it. Turning to Presence, she said, “He will need plenty to eat. I have been told that the air itself here is nourishing for dragons, but magic can only go so far. He needs meat.” Then, without waiting for a reply, she turned to Mak. “Focus on his head and neck,” she told my sister. “I will throw everything I have at helping his body.”

  “Relieving his pain may be all I can do,” Mak agreed, looking wide-eyed at Presence’s devastated flesh. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her so at a loss.

  “I will be… grateful for anything,” Presence said in a rasping whisper that spurred Mak into action.

  “I will touch your head, if I may,” she said, her voice rough. When he neither moved nor protested, she reached out hesitantly, searching for a good place to put her hands that wouldn’t aggravate anything.

  Grace growled, low in his chest, and Mak froze. Then Presence grumbled something in Draconic, followed by two short words of Karakani: “Go on.”

  Kira, meanwhile, didn’t hesitate despite Grace’s rumbles. “This will be painful,” she warned. “I will be touching the wounds directly, for the greatest effect. Please do not be startled.”

  Grace gave a wheezing huff, and Kira did as she’d said she would. She spread her arms wide, as though she intended to embrace the poor dragon, and placed her hands flat right in the mess — one below his protruding ribs, the other above his withered leg. Then she focused, and shone.

  When I’d last taken Kira to recharge at a Rift, she’d drained the whole damn thing. The power had diffused into her flesh, leaving her momentarily radiant, and it was only because the glow had eventually subsided that I hadn’t drawn the magic out of her myself. Now all that power returned. It was like when she’d healed Tammy’s stump back at the rotunda, except more. Her whole body came alight. Not in the way a magic user normally gathered power; that would be like comparing a battery powered torch to an industrial spotlight. For a moment, Kira burned like Mother did. When all that power gathered around her heart, it wasn’t just a ball of golden light; it was brilliant, almost blinding, like a piece of the sun had come down from the sky.

  It was absolutely gorgeous. In that moment, I pitied the others, who couldn’t see what I did.

  Kira gasped, though from what sensation or emotion I couldn’t say. And then she took all of that power, and poured it into The Sun Need Not Rise In His Presence. It only took seconds before she stumbled back, her work done.

  The wounded dragon shuddered. Mak, whom I’d almost forgotten as she did her own healing, was moved bodily as Presence’s neck straightened, and he let out a great sigh. She didn’t let go, though; her grip was more than strong enough to hold on even as her feet scrabbled for purchase on the carved stone floor.

  Grace was on his feet in an instant, but he barely seemed to register my or the girls’ presence, except to very thoughtfully step over instead of on Kira as he glided around to almost, but not quite, press his snout to Presence’s ear. There he murmured soothing sounds and low words in Draconic that I couldn’t make out, and probably wouldn’t have understood if I had. It would’ve been incredibly endearing if I wasn’t so concerned about him accidentally stepping on Kira or hitting her with his tail, which seemed to have taken on a life of its own as he crowded in.

  I understood better than ever why doctors didn’t want a patient’s family in the room while they worked. When Mak had to duck to avoid getting whapped on the head by Grace’s wing, I stepped in.

  First I grabbed Kira, who was pushing herself to her feet, and lifted her out of harm’s way. Then I said, in the sternest voice I could muster, “The Winds Weep To See His Grace! Be careful! Need I remind you that my mother has placed my humans under the same protection as myself?”

  His head whipped around, and he gave off a low, warning rumble. I didn’t hold it against him. It seemed to have been instinctive or reflexive more than intentional, and he stopped as soon as he caught himself. With the closest thing to an apologetic look I’d ever seen on a dragon, he turned back to his mate.

  “He is breathing more easily,” he said, his snout only inches from Presence’s neck. I could have sworn that he wanted to nuzzle him, and only held back because there was really nowhere he could reach where he could do so safely. That, or he was embarrassed to show any kind of affection in front of me — I wanted to include the girls in that, but I doubted that he cared what they thought of him.

  Then he said something in Draconic, as soft and gentle as it was possible to be in that hissing, growling language, and when Presence replied it was with none of the pained wheezing of before. His voice was still weak, and he let his great head rest on the stone floor, but he seemed to be in less pain. And if there had been any doubt of that, he dispelled it by switching to Tekereteki and telling us, “My friend forgets that you do not speak our tongue. Thank you, little humans, and thank you, Draka, for bringing them. My pain is greatly reduced. Not gone entirely, but reduced to an annoyance, and no longer all-consuming. I… I would like to rest now.”

  “I have done what I can,” Kira said from beside me. She sounded almost as tired as Presence did. “Mak?”

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  Mak tended to work more slowly than Kira when she healed, though whether that was a personal quirk or a difference in how their magics worked, I honestly didn’t know. Either way, Mak said, “I am just about done,” sounding no less tired than Kira.

  Kira nodded, and stepped forward, so that she faced Presence’s empty eye sockets. “You should begin to heal, though what form that might take or how quickly, I cannot say,” she said. “I would like to return and repeat the treatment, if you and my mistress allow me.” She then turned to Grace and said, “I must reiterate, Great One, that your companion needs meat. I expect he will find it difficult to tear it loose himself for some time. I would ask that you do it for him; small pieces, so that they are easy to swallow.”

  Grace hesitated, and I wondered if feeding one another was something dragons did at all. As far as I knew no reptiles did, and the very earliest memories that I had from my dragon side were of “stealing” large chunks of meat that my father had left lying around, which I then had to work quite hard to tear into manageable pieces. Still, no matter how awkward he found the suggestion, Grace quickly rallied. “I will do this,” he stated.

  “Thank you, Great One,” Kira said, bowing humbly to Grace as though the dragon had done her a great favor by agreeing to help care for his mate.

  “There, that’s all I’ve got,” Mak said a moment later, taking her hands off Presence’s head and stepping back. She wobbled a bit as she did, and Kira was there in a moment, steadying her and showing no hint that her own fatigue would stop her from putting her friend’s wellbeing first.

  Mak spoke again, in Tekereteki this time. “There was some sort of venom or infection worsening the damage,” she said. “I believe that we stopped it, and agree with Kira that most of the damage should heal on its own. The eyes and the wing, though… I do not know if I can do anything about them, but Kira might be able to. I have seen her do miraculous things to humans.”

  “I will heal with time,” Presence said wearily.

  “With all due respect, Great One, that will force you to remain in my mistress’s domain for far longer than your welcome extends. If you allow Kira to return, you may have your sight, your flight, and your strength all restored significantly faster, which I think we will all appreciate.”

  Grace began to rumble angrily, but Presence growled something that made him settle again. Then Presence let out a tired huff and said, “You are bold, little healer, to speak for your mistress. But she has not corrected you. You must know her wishes. But I also know something of how she thinks. Or I think I do.” With a ponderous movement he turned his head to face roughly in my direction. “So, Draka, daughter of Sower of Embers, Reaper of Flame. What will this aid cost me?”

  “Nothing,” I said, barely believing the word that came out of my mouth. I could have demanded they leave the moment Presence was well enough to fly, I was sure of it. But I was sickened by the idea of it — of using Kira’s kindness and mercy that way. Kira healed for its own sake; to end suffering and bring joy. When she healed at the inn she only charged what her patients could afford, and then only so that they wouldn’t think her services worthless and take them for granted. And sure, I was going to do something similar, but I couldn’t extort them using Kira as leverage. It would devastate her.

  “I will ask you for nothing,” I continued before either dragon could reply, “except that you remember that when you suffered for my sake, I did what I could to aid you. And I in turn will remember that when you suffered for my sake, neither of you held me to blame.”

  “We will allow it,” Grace rumbled. Presence made what I could only assume was some kind of weak protest to the effect that Grace couldn’t decide that for him, but Grace didn’t seem interested. “You are the one who has been nagging me to be polite, my Sun,” he said. “This young one has offered to help you, and all she asks for is our good will, something we were already prepared to give. Do not force me to watch you suffer for the sake of insulting her.”

  Presence huffed, then said, “Very well. I would gratefully accept your continued efforts, little healers, if your mistress allows it.”

  “Gladly,” I said. “We can go find a Rift now and be back within the hour!”

  “If I may, mistress,” Kira said deferentially. “The healing we have already performed will tax the great one’s body greatly. I must insist that he eat and rest before another round of healing. Otherwise his body might cannibalize itself in healing his wounds.”

  She looked pointedly at Grace as she said that, earning her an annoyed glare.

  “I have already said that I will feed him,” the grey male said, but there was nothing threatening about him as he said it. Instead he practically radiated relief, as though it were his pain Mak and Kira had taken away. And in some ways, it was. Debate about whether dragons could love one another aside, I couldn’t imagine watching someone, someone I cared for as deeply as Grace clearly cared for Presence, suffer the way Presence had when we arrived.

  As we left the lair they’d carved out for themselves beneath that massive building, whatever it had been, I still didn’t know if that relief was likely to translate into any tangible gratitude. Grace came with us, presumably to hunt, and he was almost entirely unreadable. But I did have a positive sign once we reached the clearing and prepared to take off.

  “Before you leave, there is something I must say,” Grace rumbled. He looked endearingly awkward all of a sudden, seemingly unable to look directly at any of us. “Draka, you brought these humans, these healers, to my companion. They have performed far beyond my expectations, and you have asked for no concessions in return. Know that I do not give my thanks lightly, but you have them.”

  “We were glad to help,” I told him, drawing myself up proudly. “Before we leave, can I ask what happened? Mother woke me in the early morning and told me that Behold Her And Know That All Things Must End had attacked you, but she gave no reason.”

  “I would think the reason obvious. Behold Her And Know That All Things Must End is a proud old serpent. She took great offense to us choosing to recognize your claim to this island, and she wished to remove us before attempting the same to you. This morning she found us awaiting the sunrise and approached. To speak, we thought. We did not imagine she would violate the customary peace of the conclave so readily. She attacked without challenge. Heed this warning, and pass it to your mother, little Draka: if she approaches, do not attempt to parley. Strike first. She will not be reasoned with. For us, I can only hope that she feels her point made, and that the pain and injury my acid caused her will be enough to dissuade her from a second attempt on our lives.”

  Grace’s tone and expression didn’t betray anything except anger, but as he looked to what was visible of the southern sky his body language changed. The way he held himself went from dominant and self-assured to low and tense. For a moment, as he stared at that patch of blue, I saw just how afraid he was. It was a strange and disturbing thing to see on someone so much bigger and more powerful than me, but considering what Behold Her had done to Presence, I couldn’t blame him.

  He was silent for several seconds, either focused on the sky or lost in thought. Then he snapped himself out of it, his bearing becoming proud and confident again. “I must hunt now, as your human was so diligent in reminding me,” he said, acknowledging Kira with a nod. “I am sure that your mother wishes to see you, as well.” Then he watched me expectantly until I picked up my humans and leaped into the sky.

  I was barely up before I saw a burning flash of bronze in the sky. The sun caught Mother’s scales just right as she banked and turned, the momentary brightness fading as she headed my way.

  “Draka. Come,” she said tersely as she came alongside me. Then she steered back toward the rotunda.

  I wondered what had made her so upset. Had Behold Her or one of the other dragons tried something? I anxiously scanned the sky for any sign of ruby, silver, or emerald, but saw nothing except the grey of Grace’s scales and wings as he circled above the treetops, looking for prey. But not seeing my enemies didn’t mean that I was safe, and I followed Mother close back to the palace grounds and the shrine.

  It didn’t occur to me what Mother had called me until we landed, when I sent Mak and Kira inside and saw the fear on my humans’ faces. Not daughter. Not any kind of diminutive. Just Draka — a single pronunciation of my name, as sharp as her displeasure.

  “Who are you?” she growled, a threatening rumble that shook my bones.

  Then I understood. I slowly looked up at her where she towered above me, and I knew terror.

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