He stood and ran a silver hand tentatively over the dragon’s back. I caught my breath, for in the wake of his hand there was suddenly colour. A rich turquoise, with every scale edged in silver, followed the sweep of Verity’s finger. The hue shimmered there for an instant, then faded. Verity made a small sound of satisfaction. ‘When the dragon is full, the colour will stay,’ he told me.
