Thess doesn’t seem surprised by this. “Of course. I understand that Murtades does not trust my appearance at the moment, but I hope he will scent the truth in my words. I need to speak to both of you. I have a request from the fort and wish to discuss it with friends.”

Why am I not surprised that there’s an ulterior motive to Thess’s magical appearance? “I don’t trust forts.”

“I understand this.” She turns her face towards Murr. “I have vowed to keep you secret so you may have your privacy, and I have kept this vow. You will not scent dishonesty upon me. I speak the truth when I say I am your friend, and I want to keep you as my friends as well.”

I glance up at Murr, waiting for him to decide.

After a long, tense moment, Murr shifts forms. He moves to stand right beside me and puts his arm around my waist, drawing me in close yet again. “Speak.”

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CHAPTER 82

MURR

Coincidences do not occur often. I have rarely seen other dragons since I came back to myself, and yet Fothessa has appeared for the second time within a span of days.

I do not trust it.

Her scent is friendly, her expression full of smiles. There is a slight underpinning of reluctance to her aroma, though, one of uncertainty. It is that which makes me pause and draw my mate close. I cannot touch my mind to Fothessa’s and see what her purpose is here, so I must go off of what she says in the human language.

It feels flimsy, to trust words instead of thoughts, but I have no choice.

Dakota stays close to me, allowing me to pull her into my embrace and drape an arm over her protectively. I am sending a message to Fothessa with this small movement, that I am protecting my mate. Her scent does not change to one of guilt, so it is nothing to do with Dakota, and my mind eases a little. If she means to trick me, I can handle it. It is my mate that needs careful protecting, my mate and her vulnerable family.

My vulnerable family.

“I promise I have kept you all a secret,” Fothessa says. “No one knows that Dakota and her family are outside the fort, but I confess that I did tell a few of the drakoni at the fort that I met you, Murtades. They are eager to meet you and share memories, if you have any to share. Our knowledge of where we came from is fractured, and anything is welcome as we share our experiences together. If you do not want to meet Vaan or Mhal, I understand, but they wish to meet you.”

“And the Salorian? The bad guy?” Dakota asks. “Does he know about Murr?”

“I did not speak of Murtades to him,” Fothessa replies, and there is no deception in her scent. “He is better than most of his kind, but he is still Salorian and does not always think as we do. The humans trust him implicitly, but for me, there will always be a shadow of doubt.”

I understand this. It will take more than one or two actions to erase centuries of enslavement of our people.

Fothessa picks at one of her claws. “It is not because of him that I am here. I am asking for a friend. I know a human in the fort, a male with a son about the age of your Rabbit.” She nods at Dakota. “His son cannot see, and he had a dog that acted as his eyes, but the dog was old and passed away.”

“And you want a puppy for him,” Dakota says, voice soft.

“If he had a dog, he could train it to act as his sight, and he would not be forced to depend upon others. I know your animals are precious, but he would love it and give it the best care, and it would change his life. His father works for the fort to keep them fed and cannot be home with Jonah at all times, as much as he would like to.” Her expression is pleading, and there is a familiar scent drifting through Fothessa’s aroma. She has great affection for this boy…or more likely, his father.

Dakota glances up at me and then back at Fothessa. “Thess, I understand what you’re asking, but they’re not my puppies to give away. They’re Aggie’s dogs, and I can’t make that decision for her.”

“Of course not. I would never demand such a thing. I have not told Jonah or his father of the dogs, because I did not wish to get their hopes up. But I hoped you would meet them and see how they are good people.” Her gaze swings from my face to that of my mate. “And that you would greet the other drakoni, too.”

“We’ll talk about it,” Dakota says, and reaches for my hand. “But for now, we need to look for a present for a friend. Want to come antique shopping?”

“I would, as long as you explain things to me. Is it not better to throw old, used things away? Your cities are full of such garbage.”

Dakota chuckles, twining her fingers with mine. “We are a people that love stuff. You might find something you like inside. You never know.” My mate’s gaze meets mine, her eyes soft with affection, and I can almost feel her warm thoughts as she looks at me. “When we go home, we’ll talk to Aggie about the puppy situation, but they’re far too young to leave the mama dog yet. Until then, we shop.”

“Shop for old things,” Fothessa agrees, glancing at me. Her scent is full of relief and truth, and it seems this is what she truly came to speak about—a dog to be the eyes of her mate’s son. “Would your friend rather have food? We can get some things at the fort. I can bargain for corn flour and things like that. They are not cheap, but not impossible, either.”

“Just don’t tell me you have coffee or I might move to the fort myself,” Dakota jokes.

Fothessa just smiles.

From the spike of excitement in Dakota’s scent, I decide I need to find her some coffee.

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CHAPTER 83

MURR

I do not like antiques, I decide after hours of wandering through the insides of a cramped store. Everything smells like dust and mold, and nothing looks practical. There are jars for cookies and things called “salt shakers.” There are old “coins” and “records,” neither of which make sense to me.

And there are a great many things shaped like chickens.

“This is the best-looking chicken butter dish, I think,” Dakota says, wrapping a bird-shaped piece of glass in old fabric. “Not that we have butter. Or chickens. But Dottie will probably appreciate it.” She pauses, thinking. “I wonder if we could have chickens? Murr, how are you at catching chickens without killing them?”

“Dakota want food…alive?”

“I mean, they wouldn’t be food. We’d keep them and feed them so they would lay eggs for us.” She shrugs, but her expression is wistful. “I haven’t had eggs in forever.”

“We keep chickens at the fort,” Fothessa says. “I can help you trade for some, but you will want to keep them safe from your cats.”

Dakota shakes a finger at her. “You’re not going to tempt me into living in a fort. I would rather go without chickens. Now, which teacup do we like the best?” She gestures at the ones she’s gathered and put on the counter at the front of the crowded, dingy little store. “Blue? Green? White?”

I point absently at the most functional-looking of the tiny cups, each one with an accompanying equally tiny plate. They are all too small for my hands, but they are not meant for me. Nothing in this building is meant for me, and that is fine. My mate has enjoyed seeing all the things she recognized from her past, and her delight was evident.