Cynd asked. Jenn opened her mouth, then closed it, knowing she couldn’t possibly answer. There was a dragon on Frann’s bed. Her dragon. Out in plain sight. By the soft murmuring from the room behind her, Frann was telling the boys another story, as if a dragon on her bed was hardly unusual. While she stood outside the curtain, having terrified Bannan’s nephews again. Something a dragon, apparently, didn’t do. Children—or at least Lila’s—were more complicated than she’d imagined. “Jenn?” With concern. “Is it Frann?” “Not at all,” Jenn denied hurriedly, and made herself smile as she stepped away from the door. “You were right, Cynd. Frann’s enjoying the boys so much, I didn’t want to interrupt.” What she wanted was a way to prove to Werfol, and so Semyn, that she wasn’t some dreadful monster sent to steal their bones.
