“Can you really climb like this?” I ask, gripping tight to his shoulder and trying not to choke him with my forearm.
“I’m insulted you even have to ask,” Roiven says. He begins to scale up Sava’s side. I can tell he’s nervous, even if he isn’t acting like it. An anxious sickness pounds through his veins. After what happened at Lusern, can we stop it from happening again?
I drop off his back when we reach the spikes at the base of Sava’s neck. Roiven sits behind me as usual, one arm around my stomach as my left hand grips a spike. This has become comfortably familiar. I want, so badly, to belong here, in his arms, fighting on his side.
But I’m still terrified he’s going to regret it. And this is my last chance to say something before we leave, before it’s too late.
“He chose me when I was seven,” I tell Roiven.
“I know.”
“He’d choose differently now if he could.”
“That’s not how it works.” Roiven sounds amused.
“I don't know how to use my magic…”
“Of course you do.”
“But I haven’t controlled it. Any of the times I’ve used it.”
“Enchantment is a perversion of witchcraft. If you knew how to draw power from a Hellion, you can draw your fire from your familiar. You’re a witch, Cai. It’ll come naturally. More naturally than enchantment ever did.”
“But I couldn’t find him. They’re right. I want to come, but I’m a bad choice.”
I’m nottryingto stay behind. I just don’t see how I can be worthwhile.
“You’re capable of far more than you know.”
“I’m scared you’ll regret it,” I admit, my voice wavering. “I’m scared I’ll be the reason your people don’t win.”
His hand tugs on my braid, forcing me to tilt my chin up until I meet Roiven’s eyes. He looks down at me.
“You’re the queen they tried to take from us,” Roiven whispers. “I think the biggest victory you could give the Empire is to believe that you are powerless. They fear you, Cai. They fear who you could be. Sobethat.”
I’m still afraid the kraken won’t answer me when I call. But my only options are to try and become who Roiven believes I am, or to hide away, doing nothing and waiting for the Empire to destroy us all.
“Then let’s give them something to really fear,” I tell Roiven. He smiles.
“Hold on tight, your majesty,” he says, and then Sava bursts up into the air like the volcano itself is exploding. I grip one of her spikes and watch as the other adult dragons take to the skies around us.
We ride.
40
Sava flies faster than the previous times I rode on her back. The wind snatches water from my eyes.
Roiven is behind me, his mouth so close to my ear that I can hear him despite the heavy wind. The witch explains magic as we fly. The way he describes using his power is not entirely different from channeling a Hellion, even if the source is different. I only hope the lesson is not too little, too late.
Avreen’s red dragon flies beside us, Torain’s blue and Imili’s green a little ways back. If we fail here, it’s not just Aveinor that will suffer. The Tower will be without its ancients or its most powerful witches. Only the hatchlings and the warriors who stayed behind will be there to fight.
We fly through the afternoon and the night. Dawn rises, dimming the blue glow that guided us.
I’m napping against Roiven’s chest when I hear a sharp whistle. Aria waves at us from the red dragon. I lift a hand up to shield my eyes from the sun as she swings one arm around, then pumps the other, then points down at a spit of black rock about a mileaway. From the corner of my eye I see Roiven wave his arm in response. Sava tilts downwards.
“We’re landing?” I ask. The wind snatches my words and I huddle lower.
“Just for a few minutes. We’re nearly there. It’s time to eat and stretch so we don’t arrive too fatigued for a fight.”
