Then again, even on a dragon we’d have to be wedged up close. At least, though, the trip would be over quicker. Chewing my lip furiously, I finally concede defeat.
“Fine, I’ll ride the bloody dragon,” I mutter, stalking toward the stables, not bothering to check if he is following.
Harrisford dumps the crate full of ropes inside the stable office, pulls off his boots, then proceeds to peel off his coveralls. Beneath them he’s wearing one of his signature white linen shirts, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, leather braces, and a pair of beige riding jodhpurs that hug his muscular backside distressingly well. Thankfully, I only catch a glimpse of these clothes for a second before he throws his travel cloak on over the top.
He frowns at my skirt as he does up the clasp at the neck. “I thought I told you to dress warm,” he says, his tone disapproving.
Irritation rakes its way through me. “I brought a coat.”
“Yes, but…” With one hand, he gestures vaguely in the direction of my bare legs.
My gut clenches, and I tug my skirt down. “Well, I wasn’t exactly aware we’d be riding a fucking dragon, was I?” Now that I’m here, I regret not wearing trousers. What if my skirt rides up? What if he sees the scars on my legs?
Harrisford yanks his boots back on more forcefully than is necessary—his right first, then his left. “Believe me,” he mutters, lacing them. “I amacutelyaware of that.”
When he’s dressed, he opens the gate to a pen with a creak. I peer into the darkness. A standard green dragon—I mean, a standarddragon—crouches in the corner, its fire-filled eyes glinting.
“This is Arkany,” Harrisford says, as though introducing his skittish nemesis to one of the college dragons is a normal, everyday occurrence. “Arki for short. She’s one of the most placid dragons at Seamere.” He’s already altogether much too close to the beast, stroking the leathery scales of her neck.
Placid? My heart is bashing itself against my ribs so hard that I’m quite sure she can hear it. “Hello, Arkany,” I recite obediently.
There’s a long pause before Harrisford hisses out the side of his mouth. “Chan!Where are your manners? Introduce yourself back!”
“Oh,” I stammer, my face flushing. “I—I’m Gwendolynne Chan.”
Using the supernumerary claws on her wings, Arkany toes her way forward, her snout raised high in the air. She turns her head sideways, appraising me with one of her reptilian eyes, then lets out a little puff of smoke.
Harrisford beckons me over. I creep forward so slowly I may as well be staying still. When I’m finally close enough to feel the heat radiating from Arkany’s skin, I hesitate, hovering about a meter away, clutching my coat to my chest. My legs are trembling so hard they feel like they’re about to collapse, and patches of sweat are gathering at my armpits.
Reaching out, Harrisford places a hand on the small of myback—surprisingly gently—and draws me even closer. I stumble a little, resisting weakly, until we’re both standing right by the dragon, our bodies flush. Harrisford is much taller than me, so my eyeline is somewhere at his upper chest. And it makes absolutely no fucking sense, but Harrisford’s heat through his clothes feels even warmer than the actual dragon.
“It’s the same principle as approaching a unicorn,” he says, his voice low, and he’s close enough that his breath stirs the fine, loose wisps of my hair. “If you stand closer to them, it’s actually safer.” He pats one of the dragon’s powerful hind legs, which is unnervingly close to my face. “See? If she kicks you, it will have less power behind it. It’ll do significantly less damage.”
Briefly, I consider asking him to definesignificantlyandless damage,but then think better of it. Honestly, it’s probably best that I don’t know.
Instead, I raise one skeptical eyebrow at him. “You say that as though I regularly associate with unicorns.”
Harrisford chuckles, turning to me. “Come. We’ve no time to waste. I’ll give you a hand up.”
Awkwardly, I clamber onto the dragon’s back. Even with Harrisford pushing me from behind, it takes me three tries to swing my leg over; I’m pretty sure he cops an A-reserve, front-row view of my bum in the process. Eventually, though, I’m stable enough to scramble forward and wedge myself in the furrow in front of Arkany’s wings.
Harrisford springs up infuriatingly easily and settles himself behind me. I can smell his cologne and a faint trace of sweat. I can feel the hard lines of his chest snug against my back and his hands palming my hips. Immediately, my pulse begins racing. My palms grow hot and horribly clammy.
How the hell am I going to hold on?
I don’t need to wonder for long, because the next moment Harrisford is winding his strong arms around my waist.Oh, I think, and my mind briefly goes blank.
Then, too soon, Arkany is lumbering forward, out of the open gate and into the warm summer eve. I suck in a sharp breath as the dragon crouches low, ready to take off, and Harrisford tightens his hold.
“Ready?” he says, the rumble of his voice tickling the back of my ear.
“No—” I start to say, but the dragon shoots into the sky, and my words are lost to the wind.
11
Harrisford
I really, really wish she’d listened to me and put on something warmer.
