Then she saw him, standing on the far side

of the pool. The stranger held so still, he might have been a statue, except his long silver hair lifted in the breeze. It struck her as an odd color, when his face showed no more lines than a male in his prime. It gave him an uncanny, ageless appearance.

His eyes were cold gray, almost as pale as his hair. She’d never seen the like. They gleamed, as if lit from within, seeming to pierce through her.

Was he human or dragon? Usually facial features, combined with body language and body type were enough to answer that question.

With him it was not so easy. He was tall for a human but leaner than most male dragons. His clothes looked to be made of expensive cloth, but they were worn and travel stained.

The proud set of his mouth spoke clearly of dragon, as did the arch of his brow, and the lordly way he stood. No cowering human slave, for certain. He studied her with a calm, almost frightening, calculation. Didn’t he know who she was? Her father would tear him limb from limb if he dared lay a hand on her.

“What is your name?” she demanded, rising from the fallen log.

“You need never know.” His voice had a cool edge. He spoke three words she didn’t recognize, lifting his hand in a slow spiraling gesture.

She tried to speak again, but her voice wouldn’t respond. Panic surged through her body as she tried to move, but nothing happened. Her legs remained planted to the ground, her arms locked at her sides, as if she had turned to stone.

What sorcery did he wield?