But I don’t want to blow this off. “You exposed yourself—in every way possible,” I add with a lopsided smile—“to save me. You could have escaped alone. Hilde would have carried you away. But you risked everything to protect me. Thank you.”
Sifa’s eyes start to glitter, and I watch as a swallow moves down her throat. “What else could I have done?” she asks in a quiet voice, full of emotion. Then she smirks. “At least until you answer a few of my questions.”
“I knew there was a reason,” I tell her with a laugh. “I still appreciate it.”
“But you do owe me. We’re agreed?”
“Definitely,” I assure her. I’m stunned by how comforted I am to have this promise between us, as if any commitment soothes the savage that demands a closer connection. I can’t put her behind me until this debt is paid.
We move quickly to pack and leave. Too much of the day already has passed, and we have far to go. The next two days are surprisingly smooth, making me nervous. It shouldn’t be this easy to approach the Nest. Sifa seems to notice it too. We’re both on high alert, our eyes constantly searching for any hint of a threat as we draw close.
Sifa’s also growing more nervous by the hour. She’s quiet on the final morning, her eyes distant, little wrinkles forming at their corners and across her brow every time she lets herself look toward our destination. I know why, but I can’t tell her that. Still, it might help her to talk about it. We both need her at her best over the next two days.
“Rabbit? Are you okay?” I make sure my voice is gentle, soothing.
The world—my world—looks back at me as she lifts her eyes to find mine. And then I feel her emotions shift, from the anxiety tinged with fear I sensed when we woke, to resolve. Defiance. Resistance.
“I’ve heard a lot about this place,” she tells me in a flat voice. “This will be dangerous.”
“I’ll protect you,” I assure her, “from anything, anyone, we may find in there.”
Sifa scoffs but I feel her comfort at my words. “Maybe it’ll be me protecting you,” she suggests.
“We’ll protect each other.” I hold her stare for a moment, letting her see the savage that will not let any harm come to our mate. Letting her sense my resolve, as strong as hers. She nods, and I feel her relax, just a bit.
We’ll do this. Together. And then we’ll get away from each other. Forever.
“Today we’ll enter the caves,” I tell her. “We’ll need to be alert, but we should be safe there. I don’t have any reason to believe they’ve been found.”
“How would you know if they had?”
“Tindera’s here,” I remind her. “She still spends time in the caves. She likes being alone.” My feelings for my mount wash over me, stilling my tongue for a moment. It’s been too long this time. I can’t wait to see her again.
“It’s tough to communicate over large distances,” I say after a minute, “but we’re close enough for me to feel her presence, and for her to feel mine. She knows what I plan. If we were walking into a trap, she’d tell me, despite the risk.”
Sifa quirks a single eyebrow, a silent question.
“The Dróttning can listen in on conversations between dragons and riders, and even capture the substance of the dragon’s recent memories. She needs to be close enough and focused on the particular dragon to do that, so it’s possible to speak without her eavesdropping. But she holds control in part by wielding knowledge.”
I pause for a moment, lifting my gaze toward the massive peak ahead of us. “I’m told she’s coming to the Nest soon,” I tell my little rabbit after a moment, “and I’m not supposed to be here. I can chance a few words with Tindera but no more.”
“How does your communication with her work?” Sifa’s eyes light up with her question. She’s eager to talk about dragons and my bond with Tindera.
“The closer we are, the easier it is.” I pause, thinking through the limits on what I can say.
“If it helps, I know there are some barriers that can’t be breached. They stop any communication between dragon and rider. And I know that includes the entrances to the caves.”
“You’re not supposed to know any of that,” I point out. I don’t agree with all the Dróttning’s mandates, but this one makes sense. Enemies of the Kastali can’t know the limits of the dragon-rider bond.
“I do, though. I can’t tell you how—it’s one of those secrets we’re going to keep from each other,” she adds with a smile—“but it might help us both for me to know what will stand in the way of you getting information from Tindera.”
“You’re right. It helps. I can tell you most of the rest. If Tindera’s deep in the caves, I’ll only be able to connect with her while I’m there too. I won’t be able to reach her when I’m in the caves and she’s not. Outside of those limits, distance is everything. When I’m in the South and she’s here, we have only the bond that formed when we embraced our pairing, telling the other we still live. It’s too far. As we get closer, I sense her and that feeling grows.”
I pause, mentally stroking my link with my dragon. I can almost hear her purr—or, what passes for purring in dragons. “She and I first started to sense each other yesterday evening. It’s part of the reason I pushed us so hard. I wanted to go to sleep with Tindera’s touch. We can share emotions at this distance easily. If we needed to, we could exchange words, but we won’t risk saying much. She’d let me know if we had something to fear.”
“Is that why you slept so well?” Sifa’s smile is soft, friendly.
“That and the female by my side to protect me.”
