“You actually believe all of this, don't you?” I shake my head. “That the gods are still weaving dragons from the aether and using them to shape our world?”
“You don't?” His gaze is steady. Unwavering. For a moment, I’m almost jealous of his conviction; IwishI could trust so strongly in a higher power.
But I can’t make myself lie. “It's hard to believe the gods would have shaped one meant to bond tome, or to anyone from my homeland,” I admit. “Why bother, when Mouren is obviously the blessed kingdom in this wretched age? Unless the gods have a sick sense of humor and just want to watch me struggle.”
“Maybe they do.”
I scowl. “Let's just get on with whatever the king wants me to accomplish, shall we?”
“Very well.” He studies me for another beat, then gestures toward the dragon. “But, just to be clear, you won't survive this—won't surviveme—unless you truly believe in the bond.”
“You know, I've spent most of my life being told I won't survive.” I crack my knuckles. “Yet here I am. Surviving.”
“Let's hope the trend continues.” He moves toward the weapon rack, and I think he's going to hand me something to practice with.
Instead, he draws a sword and casually makes his way back to me.
With no warning or explanation, he lunges.
I barely dodge, stumbling backward as the blade whistles past my shoulder. “What the hell?”
He comes at me again, faster this time, and I have no weapon, no way to defend myself except to keep moving.
Behind me, I hear Blight's chains rattle. A low growl rises from her throat.
“It worked before, when you were under duress,” Gareth says, circling me. “Her instinct is to protect you, as she did in Meridian. To lend you her power. All you have to do is learn to accept it.”
“I don'twant—” I cut off, diving to the side as he swings again.
He twists, following me with impossible quickness. The flat of the blade catches my ribs and pain explodes through my side, sending me toppling over in a daze. I hit the ground awkwardly. Sand flies into my good eye, blinding me completely for a moment.
I blink through the stinging, watery discomfort and force myself up to my hands and knees. As I fight for vision, warmth shoots through my chest again. It rises and falls like a claw dragging over me, scrapping for hold.
I ignore it.
I don't want any help.
I want to prove that I can stand on my own two feet, like I always have. If I’m going to bond with that beast, it won’t be because Ineedto, but because Ichooseto.
I won’t be indebted to a dragon.
Blight's growl gets louder. Her chains strain as she tries to move closer, her wings half-spreading despite the confined space and the stitches glistening in them.
You're going to rip your wounds open again, you idiotic creature.
Another claw of heat rips through me, as if in response to this thought.
“You must feelsomethinginside of you,” Gareth says, almost conversationally. “Some proof that she wants to help you. Why are you fighting it?”
“I don't feel anything,” I lie, staggering back to my feet, ignoring the ache in my ribs and the throbbing that's started in my knee again. “And I don't need help. I told you: I've survived far worse on my own.”
He adjusts the sword in his hand before unleashing another flurry of attacks.
I manage to avoid them all, but each move I make only aggravates my injuries, until it's all I can do not to cry out with every step.
“Survived, yes,” he says. “But what if you could do more thansurvive?”
He's still speaking in that casual, conversational tone, barely even breathing hard.
