I do not know if it might be properly termed treason: but I knew, with an awful sort of certainty, that my loyalty belonged to Napoleon alone. And it is gone now, but when I think back on it, I can remember the feeling of devotion, and it feels like a sort of theft.

[And theft is the greatest of crimes to a dragon.

He makes a quiet, rumbling sound, and carefully curls his tail around Clara, the leathery scales warm with dry heat.]

I should not know what to do, if I were in a situation like that.