He looked more amused at everything than angry at how things were turning out, and she wondered… was it possible hewason her side? Maybe shecouldtrust him. She bit her lip. If only she knew.
20
As Agrevlari flew after Wreylith,the afternoon sun gleaming on Syla’s auburn hair, Vorik wished she were on the same dragon as he. Instead, the odiousFelsat behind him, the bodyguard doing his best to stay astride without touching Vorik. That suited Vorik fine, but Fel didn’t have any experience riding dragons and kept sliding sideways whenever Agrevlari banked. Each time, he would have to clutch Vorik’s waist for support.
Vorik only sighed, wondering what impulse had prompted him to collect the bodyguard. Only a vague sense that Syla would be pleased if he brought the man along. The aunt had been talking to her, telling Syla that she couldn’t trust Vorik, and she had been unsettlingly close in her guesses about his true intentions. He’d been careful when Syla had questioned him about the faction and relieved when Wreylith had shown up. What under the moon’s eyes would he have done if he’d actually had to take Syla to the leaders of the Freeborn Faction? He didn’t even know where they lurked these days.
Agrevlari flapped his wings faster to catch up to the powerful Wreylith, and Fel had to clutch Vorik’s waist again.
HadSylabeen doing the clutching, Vorik wouldn’t have minded. She’d made him a blackberry cobbler. He would have cheerfully invited her into his furs, regardless of his general’s orders, simply because of that. The dessert had beenamazing. And that she’d made it for him had been even more amazing. Why had she bothered?
Oh, Vorik was aware that Tibby had wanted Syla to poison it—Agrevlari had telepathically monitored that conversation and let him know—but Syla hadn’t considered it for long. And it hadn’t been on her mind at all when she’d decided to make the dessert.
Maybe she wants to seduceme,Vorik mused telepathically.
What?Agrevlari asked.
Syla made me a dessert.
Oh, I’m aware. You’ve wiped your grubby blackberry-stained hands on my scales twice.
Sorry about that.
You can wash up when we aren’t able to fly all the way to shore and have to dump our riders into the ocean.
Yes, that will be an opportunity for a thorough bathing.
You could use it. After the night’s many battles, you’re aromatic. Dragons have keen senses of smell, you know.
It’s a great sacrifice your kind makes to bond to us lowly and odorific humans.
It is indeed. You should give me smoked salmon more often.
Noted.
Vorik looked toward the red dragon. Tibby lay on her belly, her arms tight as they draped Wreylith’s back, the side of her face pressed to the scales and her eyes squinted shut behind her spectacles. In front of her, Syla sat straighter, peering curiously to the left and right at the ground below as they flew over her homeland. Soon, they sailed over the southern coast and out to sea, heading for the next island, one of two in the chain that were visible on the horizon.
Wreylith was still sashaying back and forth, banking and almost dancing in the air, no doubt feeling good since her wound was healing. Her vigor didn’t make the easiest of flights for a new rider, but Syla hung on, her enthusiasm for the experience seeming to override what would have been natural fear. Even many stormers, who grew up climbing cliffs and trees to scavenge for food, were terrified during their early rides and worried about falling. Maybe Syla was less concerned since she’d ridden once with him. Or maybe it was that she had, as he’d been thinking earlier, a lot of determination and confidence for a healer.
Or for anyone. Vorik smiled, thinking of her facing Wreylith as the great dragon approached, intent unknown. Syla must have been worried, but she hadn’t stepped back either time the dragon lifted one of those deadly taloned feet.
His groin tightened, the memory stirring arousal, and Vorik rolled his eyes at himself.
It would be useful for this mission if he was genuinely attracted to Syla, but he didn’t want to let sexual interest develop into feelings. He already found his orders morally ambiguous. He was a warrior, not a spy, not someone who seduced women for their secrets. He preferred facing opponents openly, honorably. This rankled.
Other dragons are circling the Island of Eliok, especially the north end,Agrevlari said.They are from Captain Lesva’s squadron.
Vorik sat straighter, peering over the twin horns on his dragon’s head as he pushed his musings aside.
My brother must have sent them so that I could defend Syla again.Vorik grimaced and rotated his shoulder. He’d wrenched it during hislastbattle and wondered how many more fights against his own people he would have to endure.
Since he hadn’t slept the night before, the idea was more wearying than usual. Further, it was hard to feel zeal for attacking his comrades. Vorik believed the men who’d targeted Syla at thelighthouse had both survived their falls—he’d done his best to make sure they dropped into the water instead of hitting the ground—but it had been close. What if he had to kill his own tribesmen for the sake of this ruse?
There is confusion among the dragons,Agrevlari added.I’m close enough to hear some of their thoughts, and Pomplinor spoke directly to me. They know Wreylith, of course, and she’s always made her feelings on riders clear.
Seeing her with one must be puzzling.Vorik glimpsed two dragons angling in from the west. They were on a course that would intercept Wreylith. Was that Captain Lesva’s Verikloth?
There is debate going on about that very subject. Pomplinor wants to know if the female—the princess—has been chosen and how it could be possible that a gardener could bond with a dragon. Verikloth likes the idea of attacking and defeating Wreylith. More, I believe, because he thinks showing his greater fighting prowess would make her want to mate with him than because he cares that she’s taken a rider.
