“Airports are not a consideration.”
Caliban glanced at me and then back to Arthur. “Wait.You’reflying?”
“Yes.”
“With her?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Solid decisions all around. I’ll be back shortly,” Caliban said to Arthur. Then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished.
Arthur took a step closer to me. “Are you really all right?”
“Yes,” I said. This time, it was completely true.
Sure, I was confused and terrified. But I was also thrilled and absolutely committed to joining him on this journey. Besides, who didn’t love solving mysteries?
Somewhere deep in the depths of my chest, something warm and steady hummed in agreement.
The future felt wide open instead of overwhelming.
Probably a bad sign.
I stood at the edge of the lot with my arms wrapped around myself, staring at Arthur like my brain might still catch up and veto the entire sequence of events.
It did not.
“We’ll fly low and for short distances at first,” Arthur said with all the calm in the world, as if he were explaining a scenic route instead of the fact that he was about to turn into a dragon again. “It will help you acclimate.”
Acclimate to flying on a dragon?
“Okay,” I said, because my mouth had decided to be brave even if the rest of me had yet to sign the waiver.
He took a step closer. “Before I change, a few things. Dragons avoid detection by most human technology. Radar, cameras, satellites. We don't bend light so much as… persuade it to look elsewhere.”
“That is deeply unsettling,” I said. “And impressive.”
“You’ll be able to speak to me while we are airborne,” he continued. “I’ll hear you. If you need anything, say so. Don't hesitate.”
I nodded, filing that away in the rapidly expanding mental folder labeledThings I Will Process Later.
“You’ll be sitting just behind the ridge of my shoulders,” he said. “Climb carefully. And if you’re cold, tell me. I can control the temperature around my body.”
“You can… I’m sorry, what?”
He paused. “I can keep you warm.”
“Oh,” I said faintly. “That’s… good.”
“This flight will be brief,” he added. “Our longer journeys will require more endurance. This first one will be less than an hour.”
I made a mental note to bring my journal when we stopped at my apartment. I needed to write this down. I needed to write everything down. My fingers already itched with it. Inspiration had arrived like an uninvited guest and refused to leave.
Footsteps sounded behind us.
Caliban reappeared with the long-suffering expression of a man who had seen too much and was already tired of what came next.
“Chauffeur will now officially be on my résumé,” he said. “Along with valet, logistics coordinator, and emotional support for dramatic alphas.”
