Elsa was feeling anxious with all of the turmoil. Her father had taken Drekistone, and was its king. She was no longer of Tarben. Secretly, she felt relieved - she could perhaps find love on her own. Not be claimed by some dirty male who barely cared about her at all!
She’d followed Vhagar and Syrax. What else was she to do? Her sister and brother were dragons, and she was not - she wanted to belong. She flew, but it was not on dragon wings that she flew. Stupid, fragile firefly wings and rabbit ears and firefly antennae. Dumb. She felt near to tears as she flew high above the trees, feeling as if she did not fit in her world of blood and fire. No. Not her world; her family’s world, and she would never fit, as long as she wasn’t a Dracarae.
Landing in a tumble of limbs, she stayed sprawled among the glowing blossoms - she needed to hide from life for a while.

“Someone like you . . . and all you know, and how you speak . . .”