Viggo was already awake and almost dressed for flight by the time the first faint pewter light of dawn touched the rim of the world. The peaks of the snake-spined mountain range that guarded the valley were thrown into stark relief, black on silver, as the eye of the sky opened on a new day. As the man stamped his heels down into the heavy boots of fireproof hide, a stirring bugling sound filled the air in a sonorous blend of countless timbres and melodies, a song to greet the return of the sun after her long journey through the night. Though Viggo had heard it every morning of his life, it still moved him, made his blood race, made his thighs ache for the saddle. The hymn was especially joyful on this day that marked the end of Winter and welcomed the season of Flowertide.

Eager to be about his duties, Viggo snatched up a handful of nuts and dried fruit from the stone jar in his small larder. As he turned toward the open entry of his dwelling, he felt the cinnamon-scented breeze on his face that heralded the arrival of his companion. Chewing quickly, he swallowed his breakfast and went to stand on the edge of the stone shelf that formed his porch. Below him were rocky slopes patched with green falling away to a river like a rivulet of molten silver. Above him, casting him in the shade, hung the winged bulk of the dragon, absurdly graceful despite the great size, almost inconceivably supple in the sinuous play of muscles and the ripple of light along polished scales as the narrow head lowered until it was level with Viggo.

"I greet thee, Great-heart."

Viggo smiled as warm vapor wafted over his skin. Dragons chose names for their riders, and as such things went, Viggo could not complain about his. He would have preferred to be called by his birth name, but one did not dictate terms to a dragon. Particularly not a matriarch like Viggo's current mount. On the other hand, Viggo was a seasoned warrior, and he had ridden patrol with She Who Is Sister to the Sun long enough to feel comfortable with a less formal term of address. "Good morn to you, Sunni."

The great golden she-dragon let her mouth gape in an approximation of a smile as she cupped the air in her might pinions. Fangs as long and sharp as broadswords gleamed milk white in blue black gums. "I can hover no longer. Do you come with me or do you stay?"

"With you, my queen," Viggo answered as he broke into a trot. His kilt of molted scales chimed musically as he leaped and landed just behind the dragon's mane of black quills. Sure footed on the ridged neck, he made his way to the tall saddle in front of the vast wings. Knowing her rider's skills, Sunni took to the air as soon as he sat. As she gained altitude, Viggo calmly buckled himself into the harness of wide leather straps. They reached the level of the lower peaks and the sun appeared to leap above them suddenly, painting everything in a wash of pale rose. The stylized dragon wings tattooed on Viggo's chest looked as red as fresh blood in the blush light and the wings of the dragon he bestrode took on the glowing ruddy hue of copper in the forge. Everything was fresh; everything was beautiful. Viggo threw back his head, his shaggy sun bleached mane brushing his scarred shoulders as he sang out his own welcome to the new day, a day full of limitless possibilities.

"Perhaps this day of Renewal will be the day your long hopes come true," Sunni said, rolling back an eye like an opal the size of an apple to regard her partner.

"I was thinking that."

"Yes," the dragon agreed.

"It's not that I'm displeased with your company, Sister to the Sun, but you must know how I long for a companion."

"Yes."

"I do not understand why none ever came to me in all these years," Viggo sighed, as the dragon banked and turned to take up the first tangent of the border watch.

"You have done your duty with honor."

Viggo accepted this as the accolade that it was. "You honor me," he said. "But I think I would serve our people even better if I had my own companion."

"Instead of partnering dragons that have lost theirs."

"I did not say that."

"When have you ever needed to say a thing aloud to me?"

Viggo stretched out his hand and scratched the soft skin between where the scales ended and the quills sprouted. The dragon arched her neck and rumbled her pleasure. "Except for my lost companion, you are the best human I have known."

"That does not speak well of humans," Viggo teased.

"I speak only the truth."

"I think it is only a legend that dragons cannot lie," Viggo said innocently. A moment later he was clinging to the double horns of the saddle as Sunni did a diving roll, pulling out just above a waterfall, coming close enough to feel the spray. "But it's certain they have no sense of humor," he said when he was upright again.

"Silence," the dragon said with no inflection as she extended her wings and turned abruptly, pivoting on one pinion in a wide spiral as she rode a rising column of air.

Viggo did his best to keep his mind blank, focusing his eyes on the terrain spinning slowly beneath him as the dragon quested. They were at the limit of their sentry flight, and would be passing over the border very soon if Sunni didn't alter her path. The thick forests below were impenetrable to his gaze and the hills that poked knobby knees through the green blanket were riddled with caves and gorges. There was no obvious blight on the land, but Viggo felt a profound loathing at the thought of setting foot there. It was from these tangled woodlands that the threats his clan-keep's peace always seemed to come.

"Do you feel it?" the dragon asked.

"I feel as though I am being stretched between two poles."

"Yes."

Once again, the dragon folded her wings and plummeted, snapping out of the dive at tree top level, skimming the canopy as flocks of panicked birds flew up like chaff before the gleaner. Sunni absently snapped up a few of the plumper ones, swallowing them whole to be digested by the highly corrosive acids in her stomach. Belched forth, the liquid could reduce a pig to polished bone in minutes; metal armor took a bit longer, but it was not pleasant to wear as it melted. Stalwart indeed was the warrior that did not divest himself of the smoking gear before it fused with his flesh. As an oddity, the dragon's saliva was capable of causing wood to combust, though it was not flammable itself.

"Where are you taking us?" Viggo asked, as he reflexively caught the carcass the dragon tossed back tat him. Blood stained his gloves before he could let go of it. Ignoring Sunni's notion of a joke, Viggo spoke again. "Why are we on the wrong side of the border?"

"A young male is rising."

Viggo quickly pulled in the reins on the excitement that wanted run away with him. "Unclaimed?" he asked calmly.

"Did I not say he was in Ascension?" Her rider's demeanor did not fool Sunni, but there was something vaguely troubling about the presence she sensed. She could feel the bubbling lava restlessness of one of her kin ready to take to the air, but she could not catch any of the youngling's thoughts, nor could she pinpoint his location.

"Where?" Viggo asked tersely, sensing the dragon's frustration through the link that would be so much clearer if they were true companions. And then he was pierced from crown to soles by a bolt of sheer bliss as intense as a lightning strike. Every part of him yearned toward the source of the jubilant flare. "Northward."

Instantly, Sister to the Sun veered to a new heading. "Yes," she said. "He is almost here."

"And if he rises Rampant?"

"We will do our duty."

"Of course," Viggo said, and hoped with all his heart that the young male did not come into his wings with a surge of recklessness. Dragonets exultant had laid waste many prime acres in times past when they rose in isolation without the guidance of their kin. The destruction was not malicious, but it was costly and there had been tragic cases in which the adolescent dragon had to be destroyed in order to save lives. These were times of great mourning for Viggo's clan for they revered the great and ancient creatures as the foster parents of mankind. "Sunni?" Viggo began before he was interrupted.

"There," the dragon said and Viggo saw light flash in the near distance where a single peak stood marooned from the rest of the range. "His wings have unfurled."

"Is something amiss?" Viggo asked, when their speed didn't increase.

"I am not sure…"

Viggo had never heard a dragon sound uncertain about anything and a chill roughened his skin. "Is he aware of you?"

"I cannot say."

Viggo's weapon hand curled around the haft of a throwing lance. "How can that be?"

"This is a thing outside of memory," the golden dragon said, as they drew steadily nearer the pile of rock.

Viggo's curiosity far outstripped his apprehension, a trait that made him a natural scout, but Sunni's words made him cautious. Each dragon shared the memories of every other dragon that had ever lived, and the fact that Sunni could find no recollection of a similar event was fascinating, but deeply disturbing. "Perhaps we should call on…"

"I have tried. My voice will not reach the keep."

"Turn around," Viggo made a sudden decision.

"That would be wise," the dragon said, as she continued to fly straight toward the column of cold fire that shot from a formation of boulders near the base of the mountain. The play of metallic light called instar was the harbinger of the passage from nymph to adult and it climbed high before it spread like a parasol. The luminous cloud began to dissipate as tiny twinkling points of radiance rained down harmlessly on the land. Both Viggo and Sunni watched, mesmerized by the breathtaking display. Neither saw their attacker until he was upon them.

The young dragon struck from below, flying past at extremely close quarters and dealing Sister to the Sun a stunning blow with his tail, the prehensile length coiling around the she-dragon's neck like a whip. Viggo caught a glimpse of gleaming scales so dark they were nearly black, and then the world was spinning around him as he plunged head first toward the rocks, still fastened to the saddle. The wind of his descent tore water from his eyes, blurring his vision as he tried desperately to find a target for his lance. As a shadow fell over him, his mind reached out for Sunni's and touched nothing. He smelled spices baking and gazed up into a large liquid eye in which he could see his reflection. It was the last thing he remembered when he woke several hours later.

Viggo sat up with a groan, clutching at his head. Why had he been so foolish as to fall asleep on the floor? He passed a hand over his eyes, rubbing away the remnants of slumber, wondering why his cave looked so odd, and why he could hear the sound of water that was several leagues off, and then he remembered the attack.

Leaping to his feet, despite the pain it cost him, Viggo made a visual search of his surroundings. The cavern had a much higher ceiling than the one Viggo dwelt in and was part of a series of rooms that he could see through an opening to his right. The space he stood in was the end of the chain of bubbles in the rock. A vast pool, glistening like jet in the silvery green radiance, took up most of the floor, and Viggo could see that he'd have to cross it to reach the entrance. Worried about Sister to the Sun, he strode resolutely to the edge and put a foot in the darkling waters. As he waded forward, he was relieved that the water remained shallow, never rising above his thighs. Near the center, the warrior encountered a rocky islet jutting from the still surface and he swerved toward it. Standing on solid ground was a blessed respite from marching through the resistance of the lake water and Viggo took a few moments to catch his breath before clambering over the miniature spires of stone to the other side.

It was plain that forces other than the elements had shaped this part of the island. The living rock had been carved into fantastic miniature representations of palaces, castles and temples in perfect detail. Among them Viggo instantly recognized the notched tops of the turrets of Westkeep, the chief fortress of his clan. With the slow, slurred steps of a sleepwalker, he began to move toward the depiction of his home, as difficult to keep in sight as one tree in a forest. As he navigated a lifelike mountain range twice his height and rounded the final peak, he reckoned that he should be within sight of his goal, but the ornate model of some temple obscured the view. Noting the fine carvings of stylized dragons as he passed, Viggo slipped around the side of the doll-sized shrine.

The spectral light that emanated from crystalline growths on the ceiling illuminated a scene from one of Viggo's fondest dreams. He froze in wonder and gazed raptly at the numinous tableau of a beautiful young warrior asleep on a bed of sand the color of autumn. The lad lay on his back, long limbs sprawled wide in deep slumber. His smooth olive skin looked burnished in the witch-light. The wealth of sable hair that streamed like skeins of silk across his chest and shoulders made Viggo's fingers itch to test its texture. He was smitten with lust before ever he saw the boy's face, but when he did, his heart followed his loins. Never had he seen a visage so sweet and so savage, blending grace and strength and all that was best of man and woman in a third gender that Viggo had no name for. Among his clan, when a man loved a man, or a woman chose a woman, there was a word for it, but this was something else, something akin to it, but with another layer he didn't understand yet.

The young man sighed and shifted and Viggo needed all his willpower not to kneel beside the sleeper and run his fingers over the contours of that perfect form. Every line, every curve and hollow was a delight to the eye: the arch of the brows, the winged curves of the upper lip, the willowy camber of the well-defined musculature. At last Viggo let his eyes rest on the dark nipples that topped the hard planes of the other warrior's pectorals. Under his kilt, Viggo's unfettered cock began to curve upward. His mouth went dry as his gaze wandered down and fastened on what he'd only stolen glimpses of 'til now. The lad's tackle gave witness that he was no boy despite his youthful appearance. Resting against a sack like a fine suede pouch, the stranger's manhood was a handsome column of dusky rose emerging from a thick pelt of crisp curls. The need to possess this most desirable of all creatures grew in Viggo until he trembled with the strain of controlling himself.

The strange warrior opened his eyes, dark and liquid, pulling in light like magnets, glowing like the moon in the dimness. "You do not look injured," he said in a voice like frost forming on a windowpane. "Are you well?"

Viggo blinked. "I… I am not injured."

The young man stood, swaying awkwardly with arms held out from his sides like someone walking a rope. He quickly gained his balance and looked over at Viggo with a small furrow between his brows. "It feels so strange," he said.

"Who are you?"

"Orlando," the stranger said, concentrating on taking a few tottering steps.

"Born of Fire," Viggo translated automatically. "You speak the First Tongue?"

"If that is what you call it."

Viggo leapt forward as Orlando stumbled over the temple gate. Orlando grasped Viggo's outstretched forearms to steady himself. As their flesh touched, an aura blazed to life that cocooned them in a corona of light that nearly eliminated every shadow in the large cavern. Both felt an upwelling of joy so fierce that their hearts could scarce contain it.

"My own," Orlando said, his voice resonating in Viggo's head like the shivering summons of a great golden gong.

Viggo pulled the other man into his arms, holding him close as though fearing Orlando might be taken from him. "At last," he murmured.

Orlando brought his face close to Viggo's and touched their lips together. Viggo had done this more than once with certain of his comrades when the loneliness of sentry duty became too much and the need to feel human warmth was an imperative. He had done this and more, but it had always been a mere physical function, a lessening of the strain, a surcease of the crushing knowledge that each of us is alone in the world. Those acts of swift and often brutal passion had done nothing to prepare him for the emotion that usurped his senses and his will, overwhelming him with ineluctable force, changing him forever.

Viggo did not ask if Orlando were willing; he had no need. This was his mate and it was right that he should catch fire at his touch. Seizing Orlando by the upper arms, Viggo bore him back down to the sand. The dragon rider rolled so that Orlando straddled him and reached for the young man's arousal. Orlando crouched on hands and knees and took hold of Viggo's hard flesh. Viggo drew breath to bid the boy to wait until he could find something to smooth the entry, but Orlando urged him to lie back. To Viggo's surprise and very great pleasure, Orlando sank easily onto his staff like a sheath enveloping the blade it was made for. Placing his palms flat against the tattoos on Viggo's chest, Orlando levered himself off the upstanding rod, looking into Viggo's eyes as he began to lower himself down again. Viggo let out a long groan of pleasure as heat and friction caressed his most sensitive flesh sending echoes of his joy to every part of him. The coupling was so powerful that Viggo found he was about to spurt before he was anywhere near ready for it. In his bliss, he had forgotten what his fingers were wrapped around, but now he moved them up and down Orlando's cock, willing his partner to join him on the crest.

"As one," Orlando said, though his lips did not move.

Viggo felt his entire being gather itself just before the world exploded in a whirlwind of sparks. His climax reverberated in his every cell, and then burst free to overflow and mingle with the ripples of strong emotion bleeding through from Orlando.

"Forgive my lack of grace," the young man said. "Next time we join, it will not be in haste."

Viggo lifted his hand to his mouth and licked Orlando's essence from his scarred knuckles. He had tasted no sweeter wine than the opalescent fluid and opened his mouth to say so when Orlando placed a finger over his lips. Orlando's head turned in supple play of neck muscles and he stared hard at the entrance to the cave. Viggo didn't move except to breathe, his unflagging erection pulsing in the boy's passage. Between one thought and the next, he passed from awareness into the dark and when he regained consciousness, he heard two voices speaking almost directly above where he lay. One of the voices belonged to Orlando, but the other was utterly alien. When Orlando cried out in pain, the dragon rider sprang to his feet and ran toward the sound, only to stop in his tracks.

"Very wise," said the stranger who menaced Orlando with a blazing torch. "Another step and he burns."

Viggo's blood boiled in his veins as he looked at Orlando. There was a braided leather rope looped around the boy's long neck and the red-robed stranger held the other end. "How dare you treat him so!" the warrior shouted.

"You may call me Alan because it amuses me to grant you the honor, barbarian. I shall never be able to tell this story to another and it also amuses me that you should know why you will never leave this place."

"You are wrong," Orlando said.

"Silence," Alan said coldly. "Or watch this man suffer." Alan gestured toward Viggo and the warrior dropped to his knees, doubled over the gnawing agony in his guts. "I can give pain or pleasure at my whim," Alan continued, as the racking cramps faded leaving Viggo gasping for breath. "I am the court wizard to the royal family of my clan, but the throne has stood empty for over two decades. Every season a new warlord arises and seizes power before a few of the others band against him and it starts all over again. You may wonder what this has to do with our situation, but it will be clear in a few moments."

The wizard tugged on Orlando's leash and the young man took a couple of halting steps toward him. "You should stop," Orlando told him. "Your life is already forfeit, but you might still save your soul."

"I bartered it away long ago," Alan sneered. "When I stole you from the royal nursery. By forbidden arts I transformed you as an infant into the seeming of a dragonet. For twenty years you have slept inside an alabaster chrysalis on this hidden isle. Now that I have need of you, I triggered the spell to release you." The wizard turned a sour gaze on Viggo. "I did not foresee that a Dragon Clan scout would stray into Forest territory and provoke Orlando to challenge before I could finish the ritual that changed him back into a human."

"You are a foolish man if that is what you believe has happened," Orlando said.

"Did I not bid you to be silent, prince?" Alan pointed a finger at Viggo and Orlando closed his mouth on whatever he would have said next. "Splendid. You may as well become used to taking orders from me. With you as my figurehead, I will reunite the Clans of the Forest and rule as I see fit. In time, we will conquer the lands around us, but that is far in the future. For now, it is enough that your face is a veritable copy of your late mother's. None will contest your right; we need only hold the crown once we claim it. Now you may speak."

"You do not understand what you have done."

"How tiresome," the wizard sighed. "I know exactly what I am doing. You will help me because if you do, I will not kill this man. He will remain here, alive, and you may visit him whenever you wish."

"It is strange that you would expect me to take your word," Orlando said. "But I cannot deceive you. I will not help you at any price."

"Perhaps I misread the signs," Alan glanced at Viggo. "Can it be that you do not care what happens to this warrior of the Dragon Clan?"

"I care," Orlando answered honestly. "It is because I care so much for him that I will not let him be the cause of the enslavement of a nation. I do not think a heart like his could bear the burden of knowing the price of his life. He would not thank me for making such a bargain, and he would no longer respect me. Without respect, where is love?"

Alan's black eyes narrowed in irritation. "That little speech is exactly the sort of thing that made your family extinct," he said.

"And you have engineered your own doom."

"Orlando," Viggo said, as he tried to rise.

The wizard spoke a word that grated on the ear and Viggo went to his hands and knees. "I like you better that way," Alan said. "What did you wish to say to the prince?"

"I am no magic-wielder," Viggo said in a strained voice. "Tell me what to do, Orlando."

"Trust me," Orlando replied.

"With my life."

"That is what I am asking you for. Free me."

Without a second thought, Viggo threw all his considerable will, developed in thrice ten years of dealing with dragons, against the will of the sorcerer. Alan was not prepared for resistance from this quarter and Viggo surged up from the floor to knock the wizard off balance. Alan staggered back; the hand that held Orlando's leash moved in a complicated series of gestures and Viggo felt as though his heart were being squeezed in an armored fist. Ignoring the crippling agony, Viggo reached for Alan's throat. Alan thrust the torch at the warrior and Orlando moved between them.

"No!" Viggo cried out as Orlando's long hair burst into flames with a smell like singed feathers. Grabbing hold of the braided leather leash, Viggo yanked the end from the wizard's hand and pulled Orlando into his arms. The young man's skin was smoking as though he were made of something other than flesh and blood, like a votive statue of a young god carved from an amber chunk of frankincense. That didn't matter to Viggo. The only thing of importance was smothering the greedy flames.

"Stop," Orlando pushed against Viggo's chest, shoving the man away from danger. "Let me burn. You said you would trust me."

"With my life, not yours."

Orlando's smile broke Viggo's heart in two pieces and the boy took one half with him as the sorcerous blaze flared, veiling him from mortal sight. Tears flowed down the face of the seasoned warrior as he turned to do what he could to destroy the one who had slain his mate. He did not question the depth of his sorrow or the coldness of his rage. He only knew that Alan must die.

"Pathetic," the wizard said, raising both hands. "Since you have completely ruined my plans, I shall take great pleasure in killing you by inches."

Viggo had nothing to say to his enemy. He drew the curved dagger from his belt and advanced on Alan.

"I think I shall start by shattering all your bones so the splinters will…" Alan's voice choked off and his eyes bulged from their sockets. He lurched forward and rose several inches into the air, his feet jerking as though he were trying to run. The gleaming tips of five huge talons appeared through the cloth of Alan's robe and Viggo's gaze traveled upward.

Looming over him was a dark bronze dragon. As Viggo watched, the sleek young male pulled back his claw yanking most of Alan's internal organs out along with his spine. The wizard's lifeless body slumped, sliding down the side of the miniature temple like a pile of soiled laundry. Viggo saw no need to make sure the man was dead.

"Orlando?" he said, as the dragon regarded him with his lover's eyes.

"Yes, my own?"

Viggo heard the etched crystal voice in his head in exactly the same way he'd been hearing dragons all his life. This time, however, the link was so broad and so clear it was as though there were no barrier at all between them. "What happened?"

"Come outside and feel the wind and I will tell you, dearest of mortals."

When Orlando gently wrapped a talon around Viggo's waist, the man prepared himself to be lifted to the dragon's back. Instead, he felt a wave of dizziness, his ears popped, and he opened his eyes on a meadow he knew, high in the barrier range that marked the border of Dragon Clan lands.

"How did you do that?" Viggo asked as he watched the dragon fastidiously wipe off the last of Alan in the grass.

"I chose a place from your memories."

"Yes, but… how?"

"It would not be possible to make you understand even if I had the words to explain."

"Are you always going to look like this now?"

"How would you have it?"

"You are pleasing in either form, and I love you in both. I cannot choose."

"Then you shall not. Alan was a clever wizard, but a careless one. He did not have enough knowledge of my bloodline when he set his scheme in motion. My Wolf Clan ancestors were shape shifters. They gave up the practice as they became civilized, but the talent was only dormant. Alan's spell did not give me the seeming of a dragon's child; it triggered the seeds of shape shifting in my infant blood. He had no idea of the power he was giving me."

"Are you telling me you can appear as a man or a dragon at will?"

"In simplest terms, yes."

Viggo swallowed hard. "You meant it when you said we would be together again… as we were in the cave?"

"Assuredly. Are you not my true companion?"

Viggo put his arm around the sinuous neck that curved around his waist. The palm of his hand fit perfectly in the hollow between the dragon's eye ridges, and he rubbed absently at the smooth hide. "I am," he answered, leaning back against the curved sternum of the warm chest. "I wish that Sister to the Sun could see what a fine companion I have gained."

"Then she shall."

Again Viggo experienced that odd disorientation and when the world sharpened once again into focus, he was standing upon the highest parapet of Westkeep Fortress with Orlando perched next to him. From this vantage he could see the entire garrison of dragons and riders poised to take flight. "What is happening?" he asked.

"They are mounting a search for you."

"It is nice to know I am so highly thought of."

"Greetings, Great-heart," She Who Is Sister to the Sun said, as she rose above the level of the fortress wall below Viggo.

"Sunni!" Viggo grinned. "I am glad to see you. Are you well?"

"I am not fit for combat, but I can fly."

"Have you nothing to say to my companion?" Viggo glanced at the dragon hovering to his right.

"I am waiting for him to speak first. Out of respect."

"Greetings, Sister to the Sun," Orlando said. "May I land?"

"It would be an honor," Sunni answered.

The search was called off and a holiday was declared to celebrate the bond of Viggo and Born of Fire. Viggo was both amused and awed when every dragon in the crèche bowed to Orlando. Orlando arched his neck like a swan and regarded the others for a long moment.

"I wish to call you brothers and sisters," he said. "May I join the wedge?"

"We would be proud to have you take your place at the point of our flight pattern," Sunni answered.

"Why are you all treating Orlando like a king?" Viggo asked.

"He is a king," the golden she-dragon said. "It has been many lives of man since the last great ruler of men took to the sky on wild wings to live as a dragon for a term so that he might learn to govern in harmony with the land. Men had not yet built great cities, and they lived closer to the earth, in rhythm with the seasons, as we do here, keeping the old ways. There is no longer a place for shape shifters in the world beyond these mountains, but Born of Fire will be welcome among us for as long as he wishes to stay."

Orlando unfurled his wings in a display of joy. "Good," he said. "For I would not be parted from this man and he has sworn oaths of fealty to this clan."

"Then all that is left to be settled is the question of where you will sleep," Sunni said. "You are unique, Born of Fire, for you would be at home in a royal bedchamber or here in the crèche with us."

"I think I might prefer to sleep wherever Viggo does."

"I might have made the man wait longer for that answer," the she-dragon smiled.

"I have not the patience of a dragon who has lived for centuries," Orlando said. "And I am as anxious to share his bed as he is to share mine."

"Then I would like to see you in your nymph form," Sunni said.

The air shimmered like sunlight on windswept water, like the moon on the scales of a leaping fish, and the young dragon was gone. In his place stood the human prince, as naked as the day he was born. Without a trace of self-consciousness, Orlando pivoted on one heel so the dragons could see every angle of his two-legged form. He accepted their bemused and voiceless approval of his shape before bidding them good night. Taking Viggo's hand, he turned and walked from the great hall.

"You are very beautiful," Viggo said. "But you will probably want to start wearing clothing."

"That is what Sunni told me. I suppose I have much to learn about living with people. I am glad I have you to teach me."

"I think we have much to teach one another," Viggo said. "Shall I take you now to where I sleep?"

"Only if you are not tired."

"Nay," Viggo said. "My true companion calls, and I would answer him even if I had to run a thousand leagues."

Orlando shook his head, as he laid a hand against Viggo's cheek. "Not you," he said softly. "You shall soar on the wings of one who loves you."

Viggo leaned forward and gave the young man a kiss to seal their vows. Orlando responded ardently, before drawing back a bit to look into Viggo's eyes.

"Take me home," he said. "I cannot wait to start our life together."