Swiftcurrent Creek first watering

the curse, the fire; it threatened reverie now. she moved in consternation and upset, dancing already, frenetic with the mother's urge that said blossom must be taken to ground, interred where these flames could not touch them.
"you will not burn, reverie." lestan inhaled, reaching lightly for her, speaking with a resolution he knew must become internal. "nor will i, nor she. but it's time we — shared this."
some unreadable thing touched his eyes. "akavir is a mayfair also. there are more of us here now, than elsewhere. we need to stay. stay and fight, for this place. and for her."