“For what?” Lyra replies skeptically.
“To go for a ride.” The corner of my mouth lifts, like that’s all it’ll take to hide the fact that I’m stepping into this just as blind as she is.
“Are you joking?” she snorts. “I'm fucking petrified of heights, I'm terrified of fire, and dragons doboth. Plus I’m pretty sure she just tried to kill me!” Her hand lifts, finger pointing toward the green dragon, only to drop again when a low snarl answers.
“Yes. Absolutely not,”Ahria chips in.“I will drop her.”
“No, you won’t drop her.” I reply.
“She said she will drop me?”
Lyra’s Threads surge, straining against my hold, but I clench my jaw and push back firmer, softening her rising anxiety.
Shit, did I say that out loud?
“Look,” I drag in a deep breath, fighting back the need to place my arms around her. “Ahriawillbond with you. Your Threads are compatible because of your mum, she just needs time. Dragons are…” I nearly say stubborn, emotionally unavailable creatures that know how to hold a grudge, but I swallow it. “...not that fond of humans since the Treaty, but once theydoform an attachment, it can be challenging for them to let it go.”
“So what,” Lyra whispers, voice breaking. “She hates me because I’m like a bad backup plan? A worse version of my mum?”
Heartbreak flashes across Lyra’s face—unguarded, raw—and, god, it cuts me deep. My magic’s already stretched goddamn thin, control riding a knife’s edge, and before I can think better of it, I step toward her, hand lifting on instinct?—
Jerking back, I stop myself.
Fuck.
“No,” I reply, forcing my hand back to my side, fingers curling into a fist like I can trap the impulse there—like I’m not starving to hold her. “No, she doesn’thateyou. She just doesn’t know you yet. She just needs to see the real you. The one I see.” I hold Lyra’s gaze, long enough to make sure she understands Imean it. Then I turn to Ahria, and whatever warmth was there seals shut, my voice cools with it. “And she would be a fool not to. She’s still young, but compatible Threads are rare. And so if she doesn’t bond, she will?—”
“Die,” Lyra finishes, the word settling heavy between us. “Internal Resonance Failure, that’s what Brian’s book called it.” Her throat works as she shifts her focus to Ahria. “They can’t release their Threads without a bonded rider. And so if they don’t… Their magic just keeps building. Until it tears them apart.”
Ahria keeps her head turned, as if she isn’t listening. As if she doesn’t care. But she does. She knows it’s true.
“Right,” I confirm, shooting a stern look toward the moody dragon. “And the Blood Moon Ceremony is in less than nine weeks, so we don’t have time to waste. The more time you and Ahria spend together before then, the more likely the bond will seal.”
“Blood Moon Ceremony?”
“It's the only time dragons can seal their side of the bond. It’s short, only a few hours, but it’s really intense. You go into the mountains, drink this foul fruit, and it strips you down. Puts your Threads in a state where the dragon sees who you really are. Then you either bond… or you don’t.”
“And will you tell her what happens if she does not?” Cal snipes, taking advantage of how fucking strained my control is getting.
“Yes, well, I don’t think that’s helpful information right now. Do you?”I hiss, clamping down firmly and forcing him back.
“Here…” Exhaling, I hold my leather jacket out to Lyra. “I’m the only one who can manage your emotions, so it would be best for me to join you for your first flight. But I have to be back at the Citadel by morning, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” I run a hand over the back of my neck. “So it has to be now.”
Her brows lift like I’ve lost my mind—but still, it’s there, under the disbelief. I see it,feelit. She wants this, wants Ahria, the bond. And the fear of losing a dragon? That runs deeper than anything else.
Lyra's attention shifts past me to Ahria, who’s continuing to do a terrible job of pretending we aren’t here.
Following her gaze, I catch the impatient flick of Ahria’s tail as a cool breeze brushes past us from the lake. It catches Lyra’s red curls, slipping a few strands free and dragging them across her face, and luckily, the urge to tuck them back doesn’t last long before she does it herself.
“Okay,” she agrees, turning back to face me. “Okay. But I’m not doing this for you. This doesn’t change anything between us. I’m doing it forher.”
I nod once and keep my hand outstretched, offering her my jacket as I ease that frantic edge in her emotions back down again. Lyra hesitates, watches me like she’s waiting for the catch, but after a beat, she steps forward and takes it.
“You don’t need it?” she asks, shrugging it on.
“No, I don’t?—”
Fuck.
