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"Yes."

"I would've died."

"Nearly did."

I finally calm down. Barely. "Did you know immediately?"

"What."

"That he'd bond you."

"No."

"Did he?"

Rhyven thinks. "Probably." Of course. Ancient arrogant dragon. Tracks.

"What did it feel like?"

That question changes things. Not badly. DeeperRhyven looks down at his hands. "Loud."

I frown. "Vyrael doesn't speak aloud."

"I know."

"Then—"

"Not sound." He searches. "Everything." I stay quiet.

"Before him, my head belonged to me." He says. "Then suddenly there was something else there. Old."

Massive. Angry."

I smile. "Sounds like Vyrael."

"It was unbearable."

"At first?"

"Yes."

"And now?"

Rhyven looks toward the wall. A long pause. "Now silence would be worse." Theryn. Eddy. The words settle. I don't need to say it. Neither does he.

For a while, we sit without talking. The quiet doesn't feel empty. It feels full. Different.

Eventually, I ask: "Do you ever get tired?"

Rhyven looks at me like this is the stupidest question yet. "Yes."

"No." I gesture vaguely. "Of all of it." Chief. Rider. Council. Responsibility. Everyone needing something. He understands.

"Sometimes." That's more honesty than I expected.

"What do you do?"

"Work."