Bronagh allowed herself to be led away, unprotesting, and back to her own rooms. After Giselle had gone, she lay alone in the high bed, eyes on the canopy stretched above her head, until even in the dark she could pick out the embroidered scene, the fanciful swirls of birds and leaves, of unicorns and a brilliant blue dragon who coiled endlessly through the tapestry, chasing his own long tail with tongues of silver-laced flames. She liked the dragon best of all, with his mighty wings and wise, sad eyes, his flaming breath and shimmering scales. When she was especially lonely, she spoke to him, as though he could really hear her. .....