"Why?"
"Saints, Diar. You areimpossibleto flirt with."
Too much adrenaline pounded through my veins. I couldn't think about flirting or riding with a man.
Maybe, if we survived, I'd think about it then. And ask Ferris what he'd meant to say.
"Don't bother," I said. "I haven't the manners to be a wife, remember?"
"That's precisely why I like you.” Ferris turned back ahead.
Arrow neighed, pulling against the reins as Ferris turned him down a sharp bend, leaning him toward the south.
"The gates," I said, leaning around him. "They'll be closed."
"I know."
The walls came into view, dark save for the occasional torch, packed with archers prepared to fire. Powerful wind built up behind us, as though it were chasing Arrow away from the city. I leaned forward, burying my face in Ferris' back as it overwhelmed me.
Ferris stood in the stirrups. "Jump!" He yelled.
I did as he said and threw myself from the saddle. The wind caught us—but it was no longer mere air.
An emerald dragon of swirling winds surged beneath us, wings spreading as it soared upward. I gasped, grabbing Ferris tightly as I tried to steady myself on the not-quite-corporeal thing's back.
The dragon flew high above the gates, then arced down at a sharp angle. Snow blew in every direction as it tore away from the walls into the surrounding hills.
Into the darkness.
The dragon slowed and plunged before disappearing. I struck a mound of snow and rolled over myself. Ferris caught himself, tumbling once before landing on his feet. Groaning, I spit out a chunk of snow.
"How did you manage that landing?" I asked.
"Practice.” Ferris pulled me to my feet.
Catching my breath, I looked around. The only light out here was the gentle blue glow of Tsuyan's crystal pillars, rising from the ground like the claws or teeth of a great dragon buried deep beneath the earth.
A hum drolled at the edge of my mind. I'd never heard anything like it. Haunting, pulling.
"That's the song," Ferris panted.
I looked down, noticing he was still holding my hand. "Are you flirting with me, even now?"
He smiled. "I haven't decided yet."
Dropping his hand, I reached out and closed my eyes. I pictured Siotha—my bow.
It was poetic, in a way, being chosen by the weapon I so despised. The weapon my brother had forced lessons upon me with to teach me patience.
Patience had never come. I wasn't ready for this.
But I was out here anyway.
My eyes flew open, and the air dropped in temperature. Siotha appeared in my grasp with a flurry of snowflakes.
A flash of fire illuminated a grove of dead trees at the base of the hill. Ferris whipped in its direction. "There!"
Reaching back to where I might hang my quiver, I imagined pulling a shaft loose. A spectral arrow appeared between my fingers, cold as death.
