"Nice family."

Char turned away from glaring at the door to Iris, smiling brightly at him as she cleared the table. There was a mischievous sparkle in her brown eyes that he wasn't expecting to see. He shrugged and joined her.

"Most of the time."

She headed toward the sink with a stack of dishes, and his eyes were inexorably drawn to follow her. The oversized nightgown and robe hid most of her shape, but not the motion of her hips. He found himself imagining dancing with her, resting his hands on those hips as she swayed, and had to shake himself back to reality.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, carrying the rest of the dishes over to her.

"Much better, thank you. It's just...tiring to use magic," she said, starting the water. "Is Srot okay?"

"Other than a hangover, yes. He had a bit too much to drink at the party last night."

"What about you?" she asked, glancing up at him with a knowing smile on her lips.

"I didn't drink that much," he said, his thoughts suddenly scrambled by her casual, almost flirtatious manner.

"Would you mind drying? I don't know where everything goes," she said, handing him a wet plate. He took it, and she continued, "Was this done with magic? The way everything seems to be carved right out of the stone?"

"Yeah, that was done with magic. Not all dragons are mages, but there are a few things we can all do. Transforming, telepathy when we're in dragon form, carving stone, little things like that."

She glanced over at him. "Little things? Well, I guess they seem that way when you grow up with them." She sighed heavily. "It's different when it just...happens all in one day."

Char frowned. The lighthearted atmosphere was gone, as was her smile. He hesitated, considering whether to change the subject, but he had a lot of questions that needed answering.

"How do you know how to use the amulet?" he finally asked.

She bit her lip, and then she said, "It...tells me." She glanced up at him nervously and then dropped her gaze back to the soapy water. "I know it sounds silly. Or maybe it doesn't. I still don't really know how all this magic stuff works. But..." She stopped, thinking. "I didn't even know I was holding the amulet that day on the battlefield. It just...I saw the flames heading for Kayla, and then a shield was there. And that's how it was until we flew here. I never did anything, or knew I did anything, until then. But then, there were these voices, whispers, telling me I needed to wake up, and..." She shrugged. "They never really left. Sometimes they're louder, sometimes I can barely hear them, but they're always there, and they tell me what to do."

There was silence for a few minutes, save for the sloshing of water and the occasional clinking of dishes.

"Are they telling you anything right now?" Char asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing I can understand."

That was a little disconcerting, but he had no idea what it meant, so he decided to leave that alone and move on to something else. "Did they do anything to you? At the magic school?"

"Not that I know of, but I really don't remember much. I don't think I even opened my eyes until you came last night." She smiled up at him. "Thanks for that, by the way. You always seem to show up when I need help."

The back of his neck heated up again. He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. "I'm the one who got you into this mess."

"No, you didn't," she said, shaking her head. "You said the mage was looking for me. If you hadn't been there, I'd probably be with him right now." She shuddered. "He said the amulet was his."

"It seems to think differently." Char took the last fork from her, dried it, and put it away. When he turned around, she was bent over the table, reaching across to wipe it down, and he caught himself staring again. Seeing her in clothes that actually fit was going to be a problem. He looked away just before she finished. She returned to the sink, rinsing the washcloth out and studying the green and gold scales framing the window.

"Whose are these?" she asked, reaching out to touch one.

"My father's."

She pulled her hand back and looked up at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry about your father. It all makes sense now - why everybody hated me so much."

"They didn't hate you. Just what they thought you were," he said, leaning his hip against the counter. "There's a difference." He hadn't realized her brown eyes were flecked with gold, and he automatically reached over to brush her hair back from her face so he could get a better look, tucking the damp chestnut strands behind her ear. Pink dusted her cheeks, but she rested her hands on the edge of the sink and didn't move away. "Once they got a glimpse of what you're really like, they couldn't hate you anymore," he continued, sliding his fingers from her ear, along her jaw to her chin. Her brown eyes were locked on his, and she didn't push him away. "You're pretty likable, Iris." He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her lips, pulling back after only a few seconds. Her shy smile and rosy cheeks told him everything he needed to know.

"I don't think you should keep doing that," she said, although her expression said otherwise.

"Why not?" he asked, sliding his arm across the counter and hooking his hand around her waist to maneuver her to stand in front of him.

"Well, I barely know you," she said, peeking up at him under her long brown lashes.

"After a couple of days with my mother, you'll know things I don't want you to know," he replied, settling his hands on her hips.

"But I've been nothing but trouble for you," she continued.

"I'm always in trouble," he countered, applying gentle pressure to bring her closer. "Anything else?"

"I'm not sure I like you that way."

"I think I can convince you otherwise," he murmured, leaning in for another kiss. Her lips molded against his, her hands came up to his chest as if she were going to push him back but decided against it, and he hoped that this was going to be one of Elera's longer shopping sessions.

"You're very convincing," she breathed.

"I'm not done yet." He kissed her again, savoring the feel of her in his arms, the feel that made him lose his head in the cave and impose that disastrous kiss on her. She wasn't trembling in fear this time, and she wasn't pushing him away. He slid his hands around her waist to the small of her back, pressing her body into his as he parted her lips with his tongue. She gasped and stiffened momentarily, and then she relaxed again, her teeth opening for him to slip his tongue into her mouth. He took the invitation and deepened the kiss, drawing a surprised moan from her throat. Her hands were on his neck, the hard of the amulet and the soft of her curves flush with his chest. He drew the kiss out as long as he could before he had to stop to take a breath.

"Oh, wow," she gasped, resting her forehead on his chest.

"Bet Darius never kissed you like that," he said smugly, wrapping his arms all the way around her to hold her tight in his embrace as he remembered Kayla's remarks about the boy who gave Iris a flower.

"Darius never kissed me at all," she replied, sliding her hands down his shoulders to his biceps and looking up at him. Her face was flushed, her brown eyes dazed. "But you probably kiss girls like that all the time," she said doubtfully.

"No, I don't," he replied, grinning and dropping a peck on the tip of her nose. "Have you ever been kissed before, Iris?"

She shook her head, the flecks of gold in her eyes dancing with the changing angle of the light reflected within.

"Lucky me." He leaned in and placed a light, chaste kiss on her waiting lips. "You probably don't know how to dance, either, right?"

She shook her head again.

"I'll have to teach you. When this is all over." He kissed her forehead, and she rested her cheek against his chest, closing her eyes and exhaling deeply.

"I don't know if Father John would approve of all this," she murmured.

The priest's name was a bucket of ice dropped on Char's head. Iris stiffened, too, clinging tightly to his arms.

"We don't know that he's dead, Iris," Char reminded her, although he didn't hold out much hope for the priest's survival.

"He's dead," she whispered. "They're all dead. He told me." She was suddenly trembling in his arms, a tear sliding down her cheek. "He told me he's isolating me, so I'll be easier to manipulate."

Anger flared in Char's chest as harsh reality flooded the air and drowned out the lingering pleasure of a moment ago. "He could be lying, Iris."

"Sorry," she choked, pulling away and putting her face in her hands as her shoulders began to shake with her sobs. Char followed her with no hesitation, enfolding her in his arms again.

"Don't listen to him, Iris. Listen to me," he murmured in her ear. She gave no sign of recognition, but he continued, "I told you I wouldn't let anybody kill you. I've kept that promise, and I'm making you another one."

"Don't-" she choked.

"You can trust me, Iris. I won't let him get his hands on you."

"You can't - say that," she sobbed.

"I just did."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"Shh. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"Iris, stop apologizing."

"I can't stay. Your mother - your brother - you - I can't stay."

"Iris-"

"Don't you see?" she asked, looking up at him pleadingly, her brown eyes distraught in her tear-streaked face. "Anybody near me is in danger."

"So, we'll go away. You don't stand a chance alone, Iris." He gently placed his hand on the back of her head and pressed her into his chest again. She clung to him, crying, and he held her, his heart aching for her, hot anger rushing through his veins, a mass of wild ideas flying through his mind. Something crazy. Something the mage wouldn't expect. Something...