The dragon stood nearly twenty feet tall, wings half unfurled, its enormous weight bending the metal under it. Crimson scales glinted through the gray haze. Its talons dug into the railing. Smoke curled from its nostrils as it fixed its green eyes on me.
I froze. No step forward. No step back. Just terror locking every muscle. Then a voice cut cleanly through the air.
“So the rumors were true. A Solenhart in Dragontail.”
I looked up.
Through the smoke, a figure emerged, astride the dragon’s back. A wildweaver. I had never seen a wildweaver in my life. His eyes were the same impossible green as the beast beneath him, glowing faintly over his covered faced with a black mask. A mask with horns that hid his face completely.
He wore black leather, molded to a broad frame, and, despite the chaos around us, he sat with terrifying ease, as if the dragon belonged to him and he to it.
And he was staring right at me with interest and recognition.
“I could recognize a Solenhart anywhere,” the wildweaver said, his voice smooth and too damn sure of itself. “Your aura. Your eyes.
Your scent. Mint crushed with pine, just like every Solenhart before you. Our master will be very pleased to learn the rumors were true.”
Heat flared through my palms, fire forming on instinct. I didn’t stand a chance against a dragon, not here on a swaying bridge a hundred feet above jagged rock and deep waters, but I had nothing left to lose.
“Leave Rionis alone,” I said, forcing steadiness into a voice that wanted to shake. “We’ll walk away. You can rot in the Wastelands in peace.”
The dragon huffed, a thick plume of smoke curling into the fog.
“A tempting offer,” the wildweaver murmured, tilting his head. “But not mine to accept. Only the master’s. And I already suspect the master will decline.”
“Go fuck yourself, parasite,” Rory snapped. “Let her go.”
Before I could stop her, she unleashed a razor burst of wind. It hit, but the wildweaver didn’t even blink. He lifted both hands.
Rory gagged.
Her own shadows whipped around her throat like living ropes, tightening until her knees hit the bridge. She clawed at nothing, gasping. She was strangling herself right behind me.
He was mind-bending her. From a distance. No touch. No stone. No strain.
Only the oldest and most trained could do that, and even then, only for seconds. “Stop!” I shouted, fire swelling hotter. “What do you want? Don’t kill anyone else today.”
“I’d prefer to kill you both,” he said calmly. “But my master would not approve. You are… of interest. And now that I’ve seen you with my own eyes, I begin to understand why. You are strong-minded. That makes you dangerous.”
“You’ve seen me,” I shot back, extinguishing the flames in my palms. “She has nothing to do with this. Let her go.”
The wildweaver lowered his hand.
“I won’t kill your friend,” he said, smiling. “I’d rather let her suffer, watching me ride my dragon.” His laughter followed, slow, deliberate, and evil.
Rory collapsed onto her palms, dragging in jagged breaths. Heavy footsteps thundered behind us—Lorik and Ugo. Ugo scooped Rory into his arms. I kept my eyes locked on the green ones in front of me.
The dragon’s eyes.
They held on to me, steady, unreadable, with something that almost looked like sorrow. I only met them for a heartbeat before shifting my focus back to the creature perched atop him.
“Honey-jasmine,” the wildweaver breathed, almost delighted.
Behind me, I heard the sound of a portal opening and closing, exactly like the ones in the Glass Castle. I didn’t turn, but I knew Lorik had portaled elsewhere.
I heard the sound of strong, fast steps behind me and a voice screaming.
“Parasite!” Lorik roared, stepping beside me, shadow rippling in one hand, lightning dancing in the other. He hadn't left. He had gotten Rory and Ugo to safety.
