Page 165 of Heimlock

“I don’t brood anymore,” Fynn grumbles.

Not as much, at least, Trinte corrects.

The aunt smirks, holding her hand out to me when she’s close enough. “I’m Teale, the matriarch of Weyr Wingside. It’s an unfortunate place to meet, though.” She looks at the red carcass already freezing over. Pain flickers across her face, then disappears.

She looks at Trinte with pride. “A well-deserved retribution, though.”

“I’m Kyrielle.” I take her hand.

Her other hand covers mine, and with intense sincerity, she says, “Thank you for supporting Trinte.”

I grin. “Easy as breathing most days.”

Behind me, Trinte shifts back into bi-pedal form.

“Most days?” Trinte says, amusement in his voice. I let go of his aunt’s hand to whirl around and hug him.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” I cling to him for dear life. There’s a tiny honk; Moxie. I glance up to see her stabbing him in the neck, probably meaning the same thing.

“I swear it,” he says into my hair, inhaling my scent. Loosening his hold — but not entirely — he says to his aunt, “What’s next?”

All business in her tone, Teale says, “Well, now you pick a mountain.”

He looks at me. “Can I bring her?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Do I have to come right back?”

Teale hesitates. “No … but we will wait until you return so the Weyr can celebrate with you.”

“So I can come back in an hour?”

“Good goddesses,” Fynn mutters. Orliana shushes him. I turn to face Teale, a grin splitting my face.

The matriarch raises an eyebrow with a sigh. “Yes, we can wait an hour. But no more, Trinte. Celebrate and return for family-friendly celebrations.”

“Why does it take an hour?” Joulian asks, eyeing us curiously.

No one answers him. Instead, Trinte takes my hand. “Ready, Firefly?”

I’m practically vibrating with excitement. Not just because I get to witness a mountain turned into glass, but because I am so ready to ‘celebrate’ with him. “Absolutely. Let’s go.”

Moxie flies back to Orliana so he can shift into a healthy and whole Dragon form. I situated myself on the usual perch with a pat to his head.

Snow flies as he flaps his wings and lifts into the sky. He envelops me in warm, windless magyck so the flight between mountains is less frigid. I may be a Fire Sprite, but I also hate being cold.

“Which one will you pick?” I ask, scanning the glass mountains. It’s probably one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen, with fractured light playing with swirling snowflakes.

You choose.

“Me?” I give the top of his head a glare. “That’s so much pressure.”

Think of it as where you would like to reward me the most.

I examine the options. While the largest peak is pure glass, smaller ones are only spotted with glass. I point to one with a peak still made of stone. “That one.”

He banks right slowly, making a lazy spiraling descent until he lands, claws digging into the mountainside.