But what about whatshewants?
I drop to a crouch, hands clasped. Mind churning as her perch gathers both height and wide-eyed spectators flooding the village paths, my gaze narrowing on the saddle clamped between her wings. On the messy holes in its flaps, right where Rekk used to dig his heels.
A heavy feeling fills my chest.
She’s one of the mightiest creatures to roam our world, yet she’s spent her daes being told what to do, abiding commands that almost claimed her life.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned since Fallon trembled in my arms in the snow and ordered me to live with what was left of her fading breaths, it’s that life with a shackle—tethered toanylength of chain—is not living. It’sexisting, missing a fundamental element:
Choice.
And if I put my feelings aside, consider only her best interests, there’s really only one outcome I’d be proud of. One risky, slightly mad, verydangerousoutcome.
Fingers crossed it doesn’t turn me into dragon chow or put me in the ground.
“What are you thinking, Raeve?”
That my survival odds are pretty fucking dire. Worse, actually, since Líri seems perfectly comfortable trying to slaughter me, but I wouldn’t dream of so much as wounding her. Puts me on the back foot.
I’m never on the back foot.
Ihatethe back foot.
“That I need something to eat,” I murmur, then shove to a stand and stalk toward the stairs. If there’s one thing Moonplumes are known for, it’s their keen sense of hearing. And right now, my grumbling gut’s a death sentence. “Then I need to hunt down some soft-soled boots and hope for a Creators-damn miracle.”
Raeve tips a wooden mug to her lips and guzzles deep, clonking the empty chalice on the low table. She wipes the glistening smear of water from her mouth and edges forward to perch on the seater’s lip, digging back into the basket of soft boots Siharna lent her.
“Anything promising?”
“Not yet.” She pulls out a black one she inspects with narrow-eyed scrutiny, bending and pulping the leather before flopping it back in the basket. “The heels are either too thick or too damn stiff.” She tucks a loose streak of hair behind her ear and continues to rummage, gaze pierced on her task—focused.
Knee bouncing at a quick, agitated pace.
I watch it all from where I’m leaned against the wall, arms crossed to hide my fists—clenching and unclenching. As though the simple motion could ease the rapid thump of my heart.
It doesn’t.
Líri’s pillar isjustvisible through the window to my left, dominating the village. A taunting reminder of what’s about to transpire. Coupled with Raeve’s restless energy that’s coiling into my chest in slow, agonizedincrements… I’m about to split apart.
Raeve inspects a brown knee-high boot and loosens the laces until both sides are gaping enough that she’s able to push her foot in. As she begins tightening the binds, I can already tell it’s too big by the way the leather crimps with each firm tug.
“Raeve.”
“Hmm.”
“How much free-climbing have you done?”
She shrugs, flicks her hair back over her shoulder, and bends farther over herself. “Enough.”
That coil twists so deep it pierces something soft and fleshy.
I watch her wind the binds back and forth, hooking them on the eyelets.“I … know it’s likely you don’t recall bonding with Slátra, so it’s important I remind you of something.”
Her spine stiffens, like she’s preparing to defend against a blade coming straight for her chest. Though she keeps her eyes on her task, tightening the laces, striking the length across her shin over and over.
“There’s an unspoken reason most folk risk raiding a nest rather than trying to tame a fully grown dragon.”
Her posture loosens, like my words just kneaded some of the tension from her muscles. “Oh?” She nips a glance at me while tying a knot, stretching her leg to examine the boot.
