The Stones to Remember

Three hundred years a dragon. Three winters human. Kit has stopped counting her hoard in gold; she counts it in forks now, and friends, and the way the inn goes quiet when she walks in late and someone has saved her the chair by the fire.

When the old foundation stones beneath the town begin to give up their secret, that Briarwell was built, long ago, on purpose, to receive her, Kit is not frightened. She is home. Then comes the stranger with the kind eyes and the careful notebook, writing all of it down. He means no harm. That is the trouble. Some things are safer remembered than recorded.

Cozy, clean, closed-door, and after three books of waiting, the slow burn finally pays. That is not falling. That is landing.