A/N: thanks to everyone for the comments.

Replies to unsigned reviews:

Nimbus Llewellyn: yeah, I couldn't help it, I'm a die-hard Star Wars fan. ;)

scarylady: I'm glad you enjoyed the 'firm behind' part. :) Temeraire is always fun to write about, and I just love his interactions with Laurence, those are always my favourite parts in the books. I especially enjoy their interactions in book one when Temeraire is still very young and unsuspecting. XD

So, we've reached the final chapter, folks. I hope you all enjoyed the ride!

Chapter 11

Broken Vows

Looking around, he saw dumbfounded expressions on the faces of his crewmembers and that of others loitering before the building complex, but Laurence was sure none of them could be nearly as dumbfounded as he was.

He must have misunderstood Temeraire's words – the dragon had not meant what he had said… had he?

"Temeraire… what is this whole gibberish?" he asked, exasperated.

"Beg your pardon, Laurence, it is no gibberish," the dragon drew himself up. "Her egg is yours."

"But… but Temeraire… that is quite impossible," Laurence replied in a wavering, almost timid voice, his cheeks burning worse than ever. "I have never… never slept with Emily!"

"Oh, but yes, you have," Temeraire insisted, "at least… you did sleep, just… not with her… but still… from a certain point of view you did…"

"Did what?" Laurence ran his fingers across his matted hair, "I do not understand a word of what you are rambling here!"

"Well," Temeraire said, looking slightly guilty all of a sudden, "do you recall the day you were shot by poor Higgins?"

Laurence nodded jerkily.

"Good. You might not remember, but the doctor gave you a doze of laudanum, so you slept all the night through, but Emily, who took care of you… and I am sorry to say, Laurence, it was she who first took care of you, not Gordon… So Emily did not sleep at all, but… she did… something else."

Laurence was at the end of his tether. "I still do not understand!"

"Well…" Temeraire began polishing his breastplate as a diversion, "you might not understand, but you surely remember that dream you had that night… the one you told me about…"

Laurence blushed an even deeper shade of red, fully aware of the ever-growing crowd around them. With another jerky nod, he confirmed that he remembered.

"Yes, that one…" Temeraire carried on with the air of someone who had completely forgotten about their audience, "you must know that it was not a dream at all."

With bulging eyes and mouth hanging open, Laurence stared at his dragon, whispers of the onlookers barely reaching his ears. "You mean… you mean that she… she really…?"

"Oh, come on, Laurence, what could you expect of her?" Temeraire sighed. "The poor girl wanted to have your egg but you refused her! You cannot blame her for trying…"

"Cannot… Heavens, Temeraire!" Laurence slapped his forehead. "She… she… And you! You knew this all along and never told me?!"

The dragon looked away, his expression guiltier than ever. "I promised her not to tell you as long as she was willing to tell you… and see, now I have broken my promise…"

"As long as she was willing to tell me? But she never told me!" Laurence snapped.

"She wanted to. Remember what you told me just before Lien turned up? That Emily tried to tell you something… twice, actually."

The captain felt as though he had been punched across the face, hard. Every little piece of the puzzle fell into place – Emily's guilty looks and uneasiness around him, her lies about the paternity of her child, her regular visits to the church… even her anxious, almost frightened expression when she had tried to tell him something right before they had left for their latest mission…

Covering his mouth against a howl of misery wanting to escape, but having no such luck at holding back his tears, Laurence backed away from Temeraire.

"Hey, where are you going?" the dragon called out to him.

"Where?" Laurence choked. "To Emily, of course…" With that, amidst the murmur of the crowd, he bolted away.

o

He did not remember when he had last run this fast, every second apart from Emily feeling a waste, and yet, despite his desperate need to be at her side as soon as possible, something deep inside him wanted to hold him back, to delay their meeting… That little something Laurence recognised as hurt at being betrayed, used and lied to, but that little something was insignificant compared to the huge, overwhelming knowledge that Emily was carrying… no, giving birth to… his child.

And that she was dying.

For a moment a conversation came to his mind – the conversation in which Temeraire had asked whether he too would want to die if Emily did, just like Romeo had wanted to end his life upon believing Juliet to be dead. At that time Laurence had answered with perfect naturalness that he would not, even the idea had seemed ridiculous, but now a nasty feeling deep inside him made him think that if Emily were to die, his life would lose its meaning.

Every step he took towards the barracks was a torture, filled with dread that he might arrive late, that he would never have a chance to tell her that he was not mad at her, that he understood her motives even though no sensible man in his place would… that he wanted her to hold out, for him, for their child, for a happier future they could build together…

Laurence had long given up on having a family of his own. With Edith Galman as his fiancée, he had been dreaming of a warm nest he could return to after long months at sea, of children he would find running to meet him at the garden gate, little hands stretched his way, cheerful voices enquiring what he had brought them from a land far, far away… But then he had met Temeraire and Edith had married Bertram Woolvey.

From Jane he had never even hoped of receiving an heir, neither had he hoped it from Brianna, and still, upon finding out what could have been if Brianna had not so cruelly refused to give him one, he had felt his soul break into pieces.

He had long decided that wishing for an heir was folly, after all, who would want to bear his child, the child of a convicted traitor?

And then came along Emily, wanting his child, and he had turned her down, out of respect for his own vow, out of respect for her reputation, and out of fear that she too would only leave him… But she had not. She had loved him, remained faithful to him, and had decided to bear his child, even against his will… Her desire to have his child had been strong enough to use him and lie to him – things he, under different circumstances, would have loathed – yes, she had done despicable things, but for a greater good… and out of love.

Laurence could not let her efforts go to waste now, he could not let his own dreams and hopes, the ones he had long buried within himself but had resurfaced now, crumble to pieces…

He had never been this close to having a family of his own, and he did not want to lose it even before he actually had it.

o

Panting after the long run and having climbed the stairs, he knocked on Emily's door, and not even waiting for a reply, practically burst into the room.

"But sir…!" a baffled physician said, fixing him with shocked eyes from behind his spectacles, while the midwife, who had been changing wet clothes on her patient's forehead, dropped the one she had been holding.

"Excuse me…" Laurence gasped for breath, suddenly self-conscious in his ragged clothing, unruly hair and lack of shave, "I did not mean to enter with such haste, but…"

"But what are you thinking?" the midwife snapped at him. "There is a poor woman in labour here, so I demand that you leave at once, sir!"

"I will not leave," Laurence replied, forcing himself to calm down, and softly closed the door behind him.

"What… what do you mean that you will not leave?" the doctor stood up from the bedside, trying to look as menacing as he could with all his hundred and ten pounds and a height barely reaching Laurence's shoulders. Laurence recognised him as the one who had treated him in November after he had been brought back to the covert, barely conscious with the shot wound on his shoulder.

"You heard it well, doctor," he said, trying to sound as polite as possible, out of respect and gratitude for the physician who had helped him heal all those months ago, "I am staying with Emily… if she wants me to." With that Laurence strode up to the bed and knelt down, taking Emily's hand. She did not seem to notice it – she did not seem to have heard the exchange of words or seen him enter at all – she was close to unconsciousness, her eyes shut, dark shadows under them, her face shining with sweat.

"Emily…" he called her name, gently squeezing her hand. "Emily, dearest, I am here… do you hear me?"

It took her several seconds and great effort to open her eyes, and through half-closed eyelids her vision seemed glazed. For a while it seemed to Laurence she did not even recognise him and he could not blame her for it in his current state of disorder, but finally her gaze cleared a bit with recognition and she muttered, "Will… is… is this the end? Am I dead already?"

"No, no, dearest, you are very much alive… and so am I," Laurence replied, realising that she believed him to be a ghost.

Again it took her some time to comprehend what he had said, but soon a small, weak smile appeared on her lips. "Will… is that you? Is that really you?"

"Yes, dearest… it is me." He lifted her right hand to his lips and gently kissed it. "I am here, alive, and I am not leaving you."

For a second her smile widened, her eyes lit up, then the corners of her mouth drooped. "And Temeraire? He is dead, isn't he?"

Laurence shook his head. "No, he is alive and doing well… and he has just told me… everything."

"Sir, I really must insist that you leave…" the doctor began, only to gain a piercing glance from Laurence.

"Everything?" Emily sighed. "So you know now…? You know that my baby is yours…?"

A sharp intake of breath signalled the midwife's shock, but Laurence did not waste a second to send her a withering glance too.

"Yes, dearest, I know. Oh, Emily… if I had known earlier… if I had known…"

"…you would have been very angry with me," she whispered.

Laurence shook his head, tears filling his eyes. "No, my love." Blinking back the tears, not wanting Emily to see them and feel discouraged by them, he kissed her hand again. "I am not angry."

"Sir, even if you are the father, you must know that it is not proper for you to be here for…" the doctor spoke up again, only to be silenced by Laurence's stern "I do not give a damn about propriety, doctor, and I am sure as hell staying!"

Emily let out a small chuckle, then suddenly squeezed his hand, stronger than anyone had ever squeezed it before, and slightly lifted herself from the pillow, her teeth gritted. When Laurence thought his hand was about to go numb, she slackened her grip on it and slumped back onto her pillow, panting heavily. "Will… It hurts so much…" she mouthed to him, her voice not even a whisper.

"It will be over soon, my love, you have to hold out," he replied, admiring her strength for bearing the pain without so much as a moan. "Please… hold out."

She nodded shakily, only to double up once again a moment later, holding his hand in a vice like grip, and screaming, as though her earlier resolve of not wanting him to hear her scream had vanished, and Laurence caught himself pushed aside by the doctor, but he did not let go of her hand. Now, forced into a strange half-kneeling, half-crouching position by the headboard while both the doctor and the midwife bustled about Emily, all he could do was offer her his hand to squeeze and pray to God to save her… for he could not lose her, not now, not like this, not when he had finally found love!

He caught himself constantly switching between silent words of prayer and encouraging words he said aloud, and after a while he no longer knew when he prayed and when he repeated to Emily to hold out because he loved her, his own words mingling with the midwife and the doctor's orders 'Push, Miss Roland, push now!'; Emily's moans were getting ever more frequent with not even seconds of relief between them; and Laurence no longer followed what exactly was happening, all he knew his lips were moving, beseeching, O Lord, please, do not take her from me, do not take either of them from me…

And finally the room was filled with not moans, not screams, but a faint, but ever-strengthening sound, a baby-cry.

o

"A boy, Miss Roland," the doctor announced.

"Do you hear it, Emily?" Laurence breathed. "We have a son, a beautiful, healthy baby boy…"

She fixed him with a tired look and Laurence was not even sure she had heard him or had managed to understand him, but finally she whispered, "A boy, is it?"

Laurence, despite his heroic attempt at holding back his tears, could no longer stop them, and shaking with silent sobs, nodded, showering her hand with kisses. "I know…" he mumbled, "I know you wanted a girl, but…"

"It doesn't matter," she sighed. "We can have a girl next… If you want to."

Laurence looked into her eyes, her slightly misty eyes that were glinting with some unearthly joy, and felt his lips tuck into the brightest smile ever. "Only if you will have me… as your husband."

"Only if you will oblige me in bed," she whispered, her sweaty face tucking into an impish grin.

"That is a first, sir," the doctor remarked, "women in this situation usually scream at men and threaten them with a horrible death if they ever so much as touch them again…"

Laurence was simply too happy to reprimand the doctor for his cheek and only said, "But my Emily is not like others. As to your conditions, dearest…" he turned back to Emily, ignoring their unwanted audience, "I shall certainly oblige you, as often as you wish."

"And what about… your vow?"

"Hang the vow… besides, I have already broken it… I broke it the night of the conception…"

"No, you did not," Emily breathed as the midwife laid the baby in the crook of her arm. With a radiant smile at the whimpering little boy, she carried on, "you did not touch me that night, only I touched you."

Laurence pulled himself up from his kneeling position, suddenly feeling his legs horribly stiff and prickling with pain although he had so far not paid them any attention, and sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch one of the baby's tiny fists. On an instinct the little boy grabbed his father's index finger and squeezed it, sending a so far unknown warmth through his body and soul. His son. Their son.

"Well," Laurence said, his throat closing a bit with emotion, "I do believe that a certain body part of mine was definitely touching yours…" He felt himself flush, but carried on, "So… I have broken the vow. Unknowingly, but I have. And I am so glad I did... for without it, we would not have him here… Really, what shall we name him?"

"Oh, I don't know," Emily breathed, her eyes closing with exhaustion. "I have only… come up with girl names. I was so sure it would be a girl… You decide… I don't know any decent boy names… Except William, of course…"

"There is no way I would name my son after myself," Laurence shook his head, amused. "It has been a tradition in my family to name the sons after the father or the grandfather or an uncle, but since there is no love lost between my father and me, I will not name this little one Jonathan… neither George nor Arthur after my brothers… I think my family would be scandalised to find out that I have once again rebelled against their traditions, but… I like the name Michael. None of my relations is called Michael. What do you think?"

Emily nodded with a murmur of assent, her eyes already closed. The midwife gently scooped up the baby to let the young mother sleep, and at Laurence's quiet 'May I?', she placed the little bundle into his arms.

"Here you are, sir, Michael Roland," the woman said with a half-smile.

"No, ma'am," the proud father replied, "Michael Laurence."

oOo

Dear Mother,

Please forgive me for not writing any earlier, first I was too sick then too busy, but now I am making up for it by sending you the longest letter I have ever written. At least, I think it will be long, because there is so much I want to tell you!

First of all, in my latest letter of 30th December, I only mentioned that I was pregnant but did not say anything about the father, and with a good reason: I simply did not want you to know who it was, for I was sure if you found out, he too would find out sooner or later, and at that time I did not want him to know. Now you must be thinking that either I am raving or the father is a complete idiot to not be able to guess, but soon you will see that neither am I raving nor is he in any way retarded. He has only been duped, the poor thing, and I am ashamed to say, by me.

So, where to begin? You would practically say 'at the beginning'. Therefore, that is what I am doing.

I think it all started when I found out that Will had taken the cure over to France then come back and handed himself over to the authorities to be hanged. I was shocked, I was desperate, I was proud of him, but most importantly, I was in love. Yes, Mother, at the tender age of thirteen, I fell in love with my captain. Now, please do not look at me like that! I can well imagine the frown on your face, the disbelief in your eyes, and your voice shouting, 'Have you lost your mind, daughter?' I can assure you that I have not. I was head over heels in love with him, but of course, he would not even notice me, he took me for a mere child.

Years went by, but my feelings for him did not change, and when I received your letter with the sugar-coated order to reproduce, I knew there was only one man whose child I was willing to bear. So I asked him. He refused. Very politely, of course, but he still did.

I was mad. I felt humiliated. I regarded myself and my whole life a failure. And then, during a mission, Will was accidentally shot by one of our ensigns. Thankfully Temeraire and I managed to fetch a doctor to remove the bullet. Will was liberally dozed with laudanum and the doctor swore he would not awaken for half a day. And that was when I, with a heavy heart, took things into my hands. Literally. It was not difficult at all, he instinctively responded to the slightest caress, I mean, that part of him did. It was a bit off-putting to make love to him without him so much as kissing me back or whispering my name, but it had to be done, for Excidium's sake.

At that point I did not suspect all the moral difficulties that would later arise from my act, but in a couple of weeks I had plenty of opportunity to experience them. You cannot imagine how hard it was to walk past him every day, work beside him, look him in the eye and lie him in the face when he asked me about the child growing inside of me. I hated myself, but I loved him and loved our child too. So, so much.

It was my guilt that drove me to the local church, and I am happy to say that I am a believer now – it was mostly Will's faith that changed me, or the Lord's mercy in letting me witness his faith. I think you should try attending a few services yourself, Mother, especially the ones about the seven deadly sins. You might find it amusing, as I did at first, but who knows? It might touch you in some way.

But I digress. To return to my main point, I got pregnant and I told Will it was from a random sailor to lull his suspicion, but you cannot imagine how I longed to tell him the truth all along! There were two occasions when I almost told him, but chickened out, I am most ashamed to admit. And then they – Will, Temeraire and the rest of the crew – went on a mission from which they did not return for such a long time that we, left at the covert, got worried and sent retrieval teams after them. One of the teams found a huge, decaying body of a dragon, believing it to be Temeraire, and everyone assumed that the crew had died too.

I know what you always taught me about carrying on no matter what happens, but apparently I am not nearly as strong as you are. When I believed Will to be dead, I wanted to die. Now I am very mad at myself for having stopped eating, endangering the health of my baby, but at that time I felt that nothing mattered. I nearly managed to kill myself – at least weaken myself enough to die in childbirth, and I am sure I would have died, had Will not miraculously returned just in time. But he did, and my will to live returned as well, especially when he told me he knew everything and was not even mad at me! I thought, O dear God, how do I deserve a man like this?

With him at my side, I managed to gather all my strength and gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy. Yes, I know you are disappointed now, and I expect Excidium too will be once you tell him, but funnily I am not. Before the delivery, I was hoping for a daughter, but now I would not trade my baby Michael for a thousand girls!

Not that Will and I will not try for a girl, so never fear, I intend to give Excidium his future captain, he just needs to be patient. With the pace we are setting these days after putting Michael to sleep in the evenings, I expect to get pregnant again in a trice. After the delivery I asked the doctor how long we should wait before I was allowed to engage in intimate activities, and he said six weeks (Will blushed horribly upon hearing my question). You have no idea how long those six weeks were, especially with Will and I married two weeks after Michael's birth! It was sheer torture! But finally, a week ago, we managed to have our wedding night, and oh, Mother… I perfectly understand why you kept Will in your good graces for years… He really knows something. Why, those things he does with his tongue… but you surely remember those if he did them to you too… but if he did not, then you must be sorry that he did not.

So anyway, Temeraire of course was thrilled to find out that I had given birth to a boy, claiming Michael as his future captain even before he saw him. As for Temeraire wanting to see him… well, that was again something! Temeraire, not wanting to wait for Will to take the baby outside, and being as inventive as he is, knocked down the trees before my window to peer in. The poor midwife screamed upon seeing a dragon peeking through the window and the doctor fainted, so there we were, me barely conscious, Will with a bawling baby, one physician out cold and a midwife in hysterics. Not to mention that the covert's caretaker was outraged by the uprooted trees.

A few days later of course Will was allowed to take Michael out to the dragon grounds for Temeraire to have a closer look, and from what he recounted to me, Temeraire's first words were: 'He is a bit smelly, but at least not noisy like Catherine's egg'. And indeed, Michael is a very calm baby, he lets us sleep through the night – or do other things when we are not sleeping.

You might wonder about the dragon corpse the retrieval team found: it turned out to be Lien, Temeraire's nasty cousin who followed him so far as Australia to take revenge on him for some long-forgotten affront. Temeraire is very proud of having defeated her.

But I digress again, sorry.

Now of course everyone at the covert knows what I have done – this is partly why I have written you a detailed account, so that you hear it from me, not from a letter that someone else sends to an acquaintance in England. It so happened that Temeraire, who had known that my 'egg' was Will's from an early stage of my pregnancy, promised me to keep silent as long as I was willing to tell Will some day, but of course when he heard that I was likely to die in childbirth, he felt he had to tell Will. And am I glad he told him! The only embarrassing aspect of Temeraire telling Will was that he did it in front of half of the covert, and well, the news spread. Even now, almost two months after the delivery, I keep catching wry, disapproving glances from people, especially the older ones, but Will begs me to not pay them any attention, since he is not paying attention to the occasional laugh behind his back either (yes, some officers tend to find our little story rather amusing, and who can blame them?)

I am inclined to listen to Will: as long as he is not angry with me, everyone else can go to hell with their silent or not so silent reproof! And tell you what, I am glad that everyone knows – this way at least no one is scowling at Will, believing him to be the evil seducer; I could not have accepted if anyone had accused him of anything of that sort. I would rather have the whole world detest me than speak ill of my husband! As for their laughs – just let them laugh.

Funnily it is Reverend Whitwell, whom I always regarded as the stiffest and most old-fashioned man around, who does not condemn me for what I have done – why, Will even asked me after the wedding whether he had seen it aright and old Whitwell had indeed winked at me during the ceremony (and yes, Whitwell most definitely had, and I had winked back). Naturally the ceremony itself was one of a kind: the Reverend, with a friendly gesture, married us first and only then registered Michael in the church registry so that our baby would not have to be regarded as illegitimate for a moment, and hang the opinion of everyone saying it was not completely legal, the carpers will sooner or later forget about it, and in the church registry our wedding was put down first, and only after that the name of our child, so he is a Laurence, not a Roland, full stop.

As for Temeraire, he naturally insisted on attending the ceremony that resulted in Whitwell having both wings of the church door opened and Temeraire crouching down before the stairs, peering into the building all along. Mind you, this drove quite a few civilian guests into the vestry!

Now, as a mother of seven weeks, I feel inclined to stay away from Corps duties for a while, despite what I told Will in the third month of my pregnancy. I never imagined that being a mother required this much attention, but strangely I do not mind – I find it entertaining, I have even learned a few lullabies, would you believe it? My singing voice has always been quite horrible, but Michael seems to be enjoying it. His favourite pastime is eating, of course – typical male, loving his stomach above everything else. I have just put him down after a longish nursing, he barely wanted to let go of me even after he had finished eating, apparently he loves hanging on my breasts just as much as his father does…

Oh, you should see him now, lying next to Will, both of them asleep (mind you, it is three in the morning), they are so sweet, my two greatest loves in the world! Poor Will, he must be so exhausted – after every day of work and every night of neatly fulfilling his duties as a husband, he even willingly takes part in helping around Michael. If someone a year ago had told me I would see my captain changing nappies, I would have laughed them in the face, thinking them to be lunatics. But now I know it is not lunacy – it is the truth, and it is more beautiful than anything I could ever dream of. Will loves me, truly loves me, he claims to have loved me for quite a while, so pray do not even assume the possibility of marriage out of honour only.

I know my news must be shocking to you, dear Mother, but please, try to be happy for me, for I could not be happier than I am now.

Lots of love,

Your daughter, Emily Laurence

September 27, 1816

P.S. I have enclosed a letter from Will, he asked me to ask you to forward it to his mother at Wollaton Hall, I expect he wants to tell her about the wonderful turn in his life. Perhaps, if your duties allow, you could visit her in person – I believe you two will have a lot to talk about as in-laws and grandmothers. Should you meet Lady Allendale, please, let her know that I wore the garnet necklace for my wedding.

P.S.2, Thank you so much for rejecting Will's wedding proposal all those years ago – I cannot imagine how awful it would be to have him as my stepfather!

FIN

oOo

A/N: another L/E story has come to an end, I hope you have enjoyed it all along. Please be so kind and leave a final review! :)

For those who have grown to like L/E and/or my writing in general, I have good news: I am going to come out with a new fanfic in September, even longer than this one (more than twice the length of this one in pages, novel-length, in fact). Once again, it will be very different from my earlier Temeraire works – it is the darkest Temeraire fanfic I have ever written, a story of love turned to hate, a story of vengeance and jealousy, and a story showing Laurence's fatherly side, setting in the England of 1817.

Be sure to keep a lookout for the story titled 'Like Mother, Like Daughter', coming soon!

A short preview from the upcoming story:

o

After saying good-bye to Captain Riley, Temeraire and his small crew went aloft. Laurence felt his heart soar for a short while, the white cliffs of Dover swishing past under them, fields of fresh, spring-green in the distance – nature could not produce this shade of green anywhere else on the globe but in his homeland.

"They seem to be patrolling," Temeraire said after a minute. "Must be horribly boring to do nothing but patrol, eat and occasionally mate… I bet not only Iskierka must be miffed about it but the rest of them too. And not only the dragons but their crews as well. Why, I cannot imagine Jane Roland sitting at her table all day and going on patrols once in a while… that is not her style."

"No, definitely not her style," Laurence replied as they approached the formation of six dragons flying neatly along the coastline.

"Excidium, hey, Excidium!" Temeraire called out when they were in earshot. "Look, we are back!"

"Oh, Temeraire…" the older dragon replied with not nearly as much enthusiasm as either Temeraire or Laurence had expected. The other five dragons around Excidium seemed either completely unfamiliar to Laurence or ones that he had seen a few times but whose names he did not manage to recall.

"Are you not happy to see us?" Temeraire enquired from Excidium.

"Oh, we have been expecting you," the older dragon replied somewhat tersely, and Laurence gently hushed Temeraire when his dragon muttered to him over his shoulder, "That was not even a reply to my question".

Temeraire sidled somewhat closer to Excidium, as close as the two dragons flying on Excidium's right would allow, and tried once more to start decent conversation by saying, "We are very happy to be back, Australia has been so very boring, but Laurence says that England is at peace now which means now England must be very boring too, having nothing else to do but patrolling… is that true?"

"Duty can never be boring," Excidium replied coolly, "but now that you mention it, our duty for the day is over, there comes our relief," he pointed at a flock of dragons approaching from the direction of the covert. "We are going back, are we not, Emily?"

"Yes, my dear, definitely," came the reply from the captain's place on Excidium's neck, making both Laurence and Temeraire stare at the source of the voice with eyes wide like saucers.

There was no mistake: the woman wearing the captain's coat with the three stripes reserved for formation leaders was not Jane, but Emily Roland. She glanced in their direction, but only for a second, then looked away, however that one second had been enough for Laurence to feel a strange, unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach. The eyes of Emily Roland had been those of a hawk searching for its prey, and Laurence could not help but think that he was that prey.