Minutes or hours later, the she-dragon blinked and bared her teeth. Instinct urged Liselle to turn and bolt then, but she resisted the impulse for reasons that had more to do with weariness than bravery or pride. She was sick of running and being chased, of glancing over her shoulder after every other step. If the dragon wanted her, she could have her—but she would have to take her face-first. So she held her ground as well as Taziem’s amber gaze.
“My mother commends you,” Lathwi said at last, in a tone flecked with approval. “Few have withstood her scrutiny with such composure.”
Stunned by such unexpected praise, Liselle continued to stare at the dragon. Taziem endured her wide-eyed gaze for a moment longer, then rumbled—a sound which Liselle perceived as a dismissal. Unable to express
