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“Eight hundred and twelve,” I say. “Eight hundred and thirteen.”

Silas sits in an armchair he carried up here specifically so he could watch me count. My mark tingles every time he looks at me, which is constantly. He brought me tea an hour ago. With honey. And toast, with a little dish of the imported jam from my first morning here, which I looked at for maybe three seconds and have never once mentioned. There is a whole shelf of it in the pantry now. He held the honey jar for a moment too long before setting it down, and I watched gold flicker in his eyes, and neither of us said a word.

“You could hire someone to do this,” he says.

“I was hired to do this.”

“You were hired to modernize the finances.”

“This is the finances. Your inventory is currently on the floor because of your feelings.”

He adjusts his left cufflink. He is wearing cufflinks in an ice storm, on the third floor of his own house, because he is Silas.

Then he gets up out of the armchair.

He crosses the room, crouches beside me, and takes the legal pad out of my hands. He sets it on top of the stack I’ve finished, square to the edge, because he is still Silas.

“Eight hundred and fourteen,” I say. “Don’t you dare lose my place.”

“Eight hundred and fourteen.” He takes the pen next. “You have counted for three hours. The escudos have waited a century and a half. They will wait until this afternoon.”

“Is that you or your dragon?”

“We are in rare agreement.”

He sits and reaches for me. The mark on my shoulder flares warm. Since the bite, I can feel him the way you feel the sun on your back with your eyes closed. Right now he feels like a furnace with the door thrown open.

“Mine,” he says, quietly, like a fact he is setting down somewhere safe.

“Yours,” I tell him. “Also, you’re mine. I have the paperwork.”

I look around the room. All this gold. All these centuries of collecting things the world decided were precious. And somehow, this ridiculous man has decided I’m the most valuable thing in it.

The truth is, he could lose every coin, every painting, every priceless artifact in this house tomorrow, and I wouldn’t care. I’d still want him. The man who wears cufflinks during an ice storm. Who buys four thousand dollars’ worth of blankets because I might get cold. Who has a dragon that thinks my chipped coffee mug belongs in a museum.

My man. My dragon. Turns out I found my own treasure on this mountain.

Epilogue Two

Silas

Same Day

I’m sitting on the floor with Nina when my phone rings.

Nobody calls me. I retrieve it from my trouser pocket and frown at the screen before answering.

“Jess.” I listen. “When?”

She explains, and I look toward the window. “Thank you. No. Don’t send anyone up that road. I’m sure he’ll handle it.”

I end the call.

“What’s wrong?” Nina asks.

“A woman stopped at the coffee shop this morning. On her own. She asked for directions to the Glacier Lake trailhead.” Through the gold room’s tall window, I watch the ice coming down in sheets, silver over the dark ridges to the east. “She told Jess she wanted the place to herself. Search and rescue can’t get a truck up there in this. Jess thought one of us might have another way.”

“Isn’t that where Beck is?”