A dark cloud is forming inside me, and I don’t know how I’ll ever get rid of it. Even my savage feels it, holding himself at bay to avoid feeding that storm. The storm that could consume me entirely.
I need to talk to Sifa. Need her to know I didn’t betray her. That I’ll get her out if it’s the last thing I do.
But I can’t risk going to her. Not unless I have no other choice. If they capture me, I won’t be able to help either of us. And they’ll punish SifaandTindera for my sins. For my weakness.
I can’t let that happen. My only choice is to get rid of the gods-damned shackle around her throat. The problem is I have no fucking idea how to do that. She’s in a part of the prison I can’t control. Any influence I wield at the Nest ends with those cages. They’re outside of the reach of the dragon riders. They placed her there intentionally because they don’t trust me.
That fucking know-it-all guard will pay for how badly he’s fucked it all up.
He’ll experience everything Sifa does. Every pain forced on her. Every bit of shame. Every moment of despair.
After I figure out how to get Sifa out.
At least Tindera’s healed. She’s terrified for Astarot, who’s still trapped in the blood-stained meadow where everything went to Helheim. I’ve gotten an update and am anxious to assure her he’s recovering.
They’re resolved to fly together, at least once. And she can’t wait to share her favorite field with him. He’s somehow never tasted goat before. Tindera spends a lot of time—alotof time—thinking about their first meal together. Feeding Astarot her own memories of her favorite food. She’s always been a little food-obsessed.
I’m heading to my voracious dragon now. I need to be with her. We’re connected while I’m in the Nest, but it’s never as good as sitting by her side. Hearing her heart pound in her chest. Feeling her breath as it wisps over me. It calms me like nothing else can other than Sifa. And I need some fucking calm right now.
I also need to talk to Tindera. The Dróttning is expected at any moment, and I can’t risk her overhearing our conversation. When she’s close, it’s easy for her to eavesdrop on any words shared between dragon and rider. There are no secrets. It’s one of the reasons she’s so dangerous.
So I’m heading into the lair to be with mine. A rock lifts from my gut when I see her, sprawled out in front of a vast underground lake the dragons claimed for their own. I’ve tried to get in the water more than once but never succeeded. No riders allowed. A smile emerges against my will as I think about Tindera’s response the last time—how much fun we had racing around the cave as she held me at bay.
The Dróttning has taken too much from the Thunder. She stole their independence and freedom. Forces them to accept unworthy riders. Takes private thoughts from what should be a sacred bond. Tortures any who defy her. But she’s allowed them this. A scrap that costs her nothing. It’s theirs, and nobody, not even their riders, will take it from them.
Tindera looks up from her nap, stretching as she watches me approach. By the gods, she’s beautiful. Even in this low light, her feathers sparkle, enough dappled sunlight filtering through to catch the gold and cast an umber glow all around. She’s one of the few gold dragons.Mine.
Mine, she echoes, her eyes bright. I can’t deny that. I’m hers, just as she is mine.
Leave?Tindera’s ready to go. She’s been stuck here in the Nest for weeks. We’re waiting for the final okay from the Dróttning, which should come any day now, maybe today. We won’t head to Revalle yet—we need to stay close to Astarot until he’s fully healed—but we’ll be out of here.
And while she doesn’t know this yet, I can’t leave until Sifa’s free. I hope she understands. That she agrees.
“Walk with me,” I urge as I reach out to stroke her snout.
She holds my gaze for a moment then drops her chin. Standing, she stretches again before leading me away from the pool. We roam deeper into the caves, searching for a place I can speak without fear. She takes me down a passage I don’t recognize, our feet disturbing a sandy ground untouched by any footsteps. Finally, perhaps fifteen minutes after we left, Tindera settles in the middle of a large cavern, dropping her head to give me access to her horn—the place she loves to be scratched.
“The Dróttning will be here soon,” I say as I lean against my dragon and dig my fingers under her feathers. She rumbles at me when I find her favorite spot. “We know things she cannot. Things that would get both of us killed. Get Astarot and Sifa killed.”
Tindera rumbles again, this one a warning. She doesn’t like it when I tell her things she already knows. Another smile emerges of its own will as my hand wriggles farther under her plumage. “I know. I’m sorry. Just making sure we’re both agreed about the stakes.”
Her unblinking eyes watch me, unamused. Finally, she relents and gives me a single drop of her eyelids.
“I did everything I could with Astarot,” I assure her. I’ve felt her angst. She’s tried to hide it—the Dróttning cannot learn that Tindera bonded with Astarot—so we haven’t spoken about him at all.
“The wound was deep, but he’s strong. Stronger than he should be after just a few days of rest. When his body is healed and he can fly free, he’ll be nearly as impressive as you.”
Tindera snorts, pride rippling through her. She’s one of the most magnificent beasts in all of Vanatia. She would not bond with a lesser dragon.
“He’ll heal. I promise. This wound won’t kill him.”
She watches me, measuring my sincerity. Like every dragon, she can see all of me. I can’t hide a thing from her. When she assures herself that I believe Astarot will fully heal, she blinks her eyes again. She’s ready to talk about home.
“I want to go back home as badly as you. We’ve been gone too long. But Sifa’s being held someplace I can’t reach. No dragon riders are allowed in that part of the prison. They’re using the iron manacle around her throat, so I can’t speak with her either. I can’t leave her there.”
Tindera’s pause this time is even longer. Finally, a single word drops into my thoughts. It comes alone, unlike her usual messages. But I don’t need an explanation. It can only mean one thing.
Save.
