Anayla ran, jumped to land on his knee, pushed off, and leapt from there to the back of his neck. She swung herself to sit down, lightly gripping the horned ridges of his head.
There was no way I could physically do that. She leaned over the sideof the dragon, all tall, lean grace, and offered me her hand and a bright smile.
“Come grab my hand. I’ll help you up.”
I looked around at the small awe-inducing band, feeling a sick sense of embarrassment. There was no way. If I tried to replicate her movements, I would plant myself face-first into the side of a dragon.
Anayla was looking at me expectantly, as if they weren’t trying to be unkind or humiliate me. They knew mortals were weaker—in theory—but they had no idea that I was so much less physically capable.
“No way out of it.” Fieran’s voice was low and dark near my ear, and suddenly his arm closed around my waist. I struggled automatically, but he was bearing me up into the air. His wings unfurled to either side of us, and the next thing I knew, we were hovering beside the dragon.
He lowered us until my feet were on the slick scales, but my boots slid, unable to find purchase. His grip loosened, but he didn’t let go until I had somewhat found my balance. I pitched forward onto my knees, and forward into place near Anayla.
Fieran offered me a smile. He did not try to hide how smug that smile was.
Then he shifted in midair, one of his enormous wings sweeping over our heads as he banked. I ducked. Anayla didn’t.
“He can be maddening,” she said, giving me a look that said she, too, saw more than I would appreciate. “But he does have his redeeming qualities.”
“Maybe I’ll be able to see them once I get over him destroying everything that mattered to me.” I’d had twin purposes in life: protecting Tay’s life and Lidi’s magic. Now I felt powerless, gripped by forces beyond my control…forces that wore Fieran’s cursedly handsome face.
“Maybe,” she agreed.
Asrael began to move, his body flexing, scales rippling. I grabbed for anything to steady myself. There was nothing to hold on to but the edges of scales, which pinched my fingers flat with his movement.
Without commentary, Anayla swung around me so that she was sitting behind me. She pushed me forward so that I could grip the horned edges of his head. Asrael looked back at us, his head turning to view us with one enormous eye.
She gestured at him, and he took a few more steps, then lumbered into the air. I gripped the ridges until my fingers went white.
She put one hand lightly on my waist—not for her own sake. She seemed confident and steady. But then, she had her own wings. Falling off was not nearly as serious a problem for her as it was for me.
“Where are we going?” I asked Anayla, pulling my voice away. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, not wanting to watch the branches of the trees shrink as we rose higher. “More specifically than the capital?”
“Either to the barracks at the Trials or to Fieran’s house. Usually, we would go to Fieran’s house if the queen hasn’t given orders otherwise.”
She left out why things would be different this time, but I assumed I was the reason.
My chest felt tight. “Fieran’s house.”
The thought of being in his home felt like a fresh new trap.
“It’s nice,” she assured me, as if that would be my problem with staying in his home.
“Where are you from?” I asked her.
She named a city I didn’t recognize. I hadn’t paid a lot of attention to geography. For someone who never went over the mountain, it had seemed pretty irrelevant when my teacher tried to teach me in the schoolhouse.
“Are your parents dragon shifters too?”
She froze—just for an instant—but it was enough for any pleasant feelings between us to curdle.
I had misstepped somehow. As usual—though it was never effective—I tried to make things better by talking more. “I heard that having dragon shifters in the bloodline makes it more likely, but doesn’t guarantee?—”
“They do keep you mortals in the dark, don’t they?” she asked. “My parents were dragon shifters, yes. I’m from a line of dragon shifters.”
They must be dead. But she hadn’t said as much, and I felt uncertain.
“The Fae don’t talk about where we come from when they show us fighting in the Trials or write stories about us. People seem content to believe that we were born to fight and to think we cease to exist when we walk away from the arena.” She sounded matter-of-fact.
