Captivated by Vorik’s sheer acrobatic skill, Syla almost missed the shadow that fell over the lighthouse. The other green dragon was arrowing straight down toward her, its maw parted and hatred burning in its rider’s eyes.
She lifted the latch, but the door was heavier than she expected and stuck as it scraped over an uneven stone floor. Terrified, she shoved her shoulder against it. It ground open, and she leaped inside as the dragon landed, head snapping toward her. It missed her but caught the hem of her dress, the rip of fabric echoing loudly in the hollow stone lighthouse.
The yank as the dragon pulled at the captured hem almost pulled Syla off her feet—and back through the doorway. But she lunged away, losing the bottom portion of her dress, then raced for the stairs.
A thump sounded behind her, the rider dismounting. A big muscular man, he’d landed in a crouch right in front of the doorway.He lunged to follow her, tokillher, his swinging sword promised.
But something caught him from behind. Vorik had also jumped down from who knew where—forty feet in the sky?
Before the rider could turn to face him, Vorik leaped upon the man, snaking a muscled arm around his foe’s neck from behind.
Vorik dragged the man out of the lighthouse and away from the doorway. Syla glimpsed a boot as the rider kicked, trying to escape from Vorik. Then they both disappeared from her view, though thumps and grunts continued as the two fought.
Several steps up, Syla paused, her heart racing, the bottom of her dress shredded. She was tempted to keep running to the top of the lighthouse but had no idea where the dragons had gone. What if they were waiting at the top for her?
A loud snap came from outside near the doorway. It sounded like a bone breaking. Or… a neck?
Silence fell, save for the roar of the sea, and Syla waited, afraid of who would come into view. The last she’d seen, Vorik had held the advantage, but the riders were all so well-trained. It was possible their enemy had managed to get the best of Vorik, especially if one of the dragons had returned to help.
A screech sounded from the sky, but it was farther away than she would have expected. Had the battle between the dragons moved out over the sea?
A dark figure stepped into the doorway. Vorik.
Never would she have thought she would let out a breath of pure relief at seeing him. He was a dragon rider himself. An enemy.
But… was that true?
He’d just fought his own people to protect her, as he’d said he would. Those dragons had been trying to kill each other, and she’d seen that man go over the cliff. He’d probably died on the rocks below. With a fall so far, how not?
“Are you all right, Your Highness?” Other than his clothing being rucked up, his hair tousled, and a gash along his jaw, Vorik appeared fine, his voice calm.
“I… yes.” Syla smoothed her dress as much as she could with the lower half in tatters. She tried not to think about how many inches away she’d been from being crushed in a dragon’s jaws.
She stepped down the stairs toward him. “Are you?”
When she faced him from the ground, she reached toward his jaw, prompted by her healer’s instincts to inspect the wound. It wept blood down the side of his neck and looked painful.
Vorik caught her wrist gently but firmly. “I’m not as impervious to magic as Wreylith believes she is. Please forgive my rudeness, but I’ll pass on accepting healing from you, Your Highness.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks heated. “I wouldn’t have used my magic on you without asking for permission. I was just looking to see how deep it is. Sorry. It’s a habit.”
“I understand.” Vorik released her wrist, bowed to her, and stepped outside.
Agrevlari waited in the grass, as if nothing eventful had happened. He didn’t appear to have even a cut. She looked for the other dragons and spotted the pair flying away, side by side and already far out to sea.
“What happened to their riders?” Syla had seen the first fall over the cliff, but what of the second? Had Vorik broken his neck?
The grass was flattened where the two men had fought, but she didn’t see a body.
Wordlessly, Vorik pointed to the cliff, then walked to the edge. It was only a few yards from the lighthouse, and she eased up beside him to peer over herself.
The rocks jutting from the churning white water below looked as deadly as she’d believed, but she didn’t see either of the men’s bodies. Had they been dragged under by the tide? She spotted something black—a boot—upon one of the rocks.
“They may be down there, swimming away.” Vorik was also looking about, seeking sign of them. “Riders are tough to kill.”
“I… would imagine.” Syla looked at him, tempted to ask about the superhuman fighting prowess he’d shown. He was clearly fit and trained hard, but only magic could have allowed such feats. “I know why they wantmedead, but why did they attack you?”
The memory of the man shoutingtraitorrose in her mind, answering her own question.
