I clung to the saddle as the creature snapped sideways, its ivory teeth snaring Gyrak’s rear claw.
Ronan threw more fire, light blazing off barnacle-crusted skin. Gyrak bellowed as the monster bit down. With a wrenching cry, he tore free—sacrificing a toe—and scrambled atop the creature’s head.
The beast recoiled into the depths.
Gyrak seized the moment. His wings struck the air with deep, jarring force. We rose.
I gasped, clutching the dark scales as we took flight. Ronan pressed against me, arms locked tight around my waist. His chest was stone—rigid, tense.
He demanded the dragon fly without rest.
Now Gyrak bore the cost.
We rode in silence as the sun ascended. Gyrak’s low whimpers filled the space between each labored wingbeat. Ache settled in my bones. Heat blistered beneath my skin. Sleep pulled at me, dragging me under in fits. Ronan shook me, his voice cutting through the fog—but not far enough.
I only wanted to rest.
The deeper I sank into its embrace, the harder it became to rise.
Eventually, I stopped trying.
Chapter Two
Trees swallowed Kallias, his green overcoat vanishing into the forest’s shadows. I opened my mouth to call him back, to beg him to wait, but no sound came. The air scorched my throat, and my silken dress clung to my sweat-slicked skin. A thorn bush snagged my skirts, slicing into my leg. I gasped, yanking on the fabric, eyes searching the tangle of branches.
A flash of green, then a glint of gold. Silvered hair caught the light before vanishing behind a massive oak.
“Kallias.” The word rasped from my throat, my body straining to force it out.
Why was he leaving? I needed him! Words burned in my chest—I had to tell him how sorry I was. I ruined everything. Somehow, I had to make it right—to grant him the peace he’d spent years chasing.
I tore my skirts from the thorns, took one step—then a branch looped around my waist.
A deafening roar pulled me from my delirium.
Ronan’s arm crushed my ribs as I dangled from the saddle, my foot wedged in the stirrup.
Myheart lurched, and I flailed, clawing at Gyrak’s scales, the jagged ridges biting into my palms.
Spray hit my face, the salt burning my cuts and scrapes as I righted myself. Gyrak flew so low, his bloodied paw skimmed the sea. Each wingbeat dragged, his breaths ragged and rattling. I turned—and bile surged up my throat. Ronan’s features had gone gray, his skin slick with sweat. His eyes clamped shut, nostrils flaring with each staggered inhale.
Another roar tore through the sky. The cadence knifed through my skull.
I knew that sound.
Argos swept overhead, a shadow vast enough to smother Gyrak. His midnight neck stretched out as he dipped his head and sniffed. He glided past, careful not to jostle the smaller dragon. My father rode him, a narrow silhouette turned toward us, his face blurred, the details lost in distance.
Weakness lapped at my strength. The adrenaline from waking did nothing to hold me upright, and I slumped against Gyrak, his obsidian scales trembling beneath me.
“Almost home.” I pressed a hand to the dragon’s side, stroking. My blood smeared against him, catching the light like spilled rubies.
Argos huffed and circled to guide us in—but Gyrak wouldn’t reach the Spire. The landing sat far above. Too far. We’d have to touch down on the shore, adding to our humiliation.
My body ached with fever, every muscle protesting each tiny movement, though my shame blazed hotter. My failure would be laid bare for all to see.
I hadn’t trained for dragonflight—never crossed the sea like this. My skin burned. My mind swam. Ronan’s jacket held my shredded dress together, but it wasn’t rider’s gear.
Gyrak groaned, and his wing folded with a snap, sending us crashing into the surf. I shrieked. My brother’s arms locked around me as the weight of a dying dragon slammed into Draconia’s shallows.
