Abruptly, she hugged me. “You are a most remarkable sister.”
“I am sure we are tied. But hurry.”
At Yuánchi’s shoulder, awkwardly, she made a step of her hands the way grooms sometimes help a gentleman. That lifted me enough to grab hold of oneof the knobby neck ridges, then I scrambled for purchase while she pushed at my feet and I pulled my skirts aside. Finally, with a last shove from below, I threw a foot over his neck and slid into place.
It was different from a saddle. Closer; I felt the heat of his body, and the scales caught at my clothing if pulled the wrong way. But it was secure enough if there were no acrobatics.
Across the lake, Fènnù rose into the air. I thought,Share my vision. We must rise now.
I threw my mind open and felt his presence. Odd features drew my attention—the broken branches and downed trees around us, but also the clouds, then the bare treetops downslope as I judged winds.
What has happened to your eyes?he thought.They are worse.
Even in this clouded light, haloes were skittering. Shapeless, dark blurs pulsed around dark spots.
“I told you. I am ill. Go!”
Yuánchi picked through the fallen logs and broken stumps, then took two running steps off a small prominence and spread his wings. For a moment we were falling, then wobbling weight returned. Wind grew. I had no goggles this time. I squinted, not willing to loosen a hand to shield my eyes.
Despite all the horrors and my surging illness, being in the air again was a thrill. Our speed increased, and the ride smoothed. I barely managed three breaths before we swept over the last of the trees and glided over the lake.
Too soon.
Yuánchi, can you see…I stopped that thought, ashamed.I am sorry. Darcy hunts our enemies. Can you stay aloft longer? Any delay will help him.
In answer, Yuánchi’s wings began a halting stroke. The thick, leading bones of his inner wing segments were intact, but one wingtip hung like a broken tent, and he tucked the other for balance. We climbed in a feeble curve.
I craned and spotted Fènnù, much higher. I closed my eyes. Her mind was locked in the grip of the dagger. I stretched my senses toward her.Fènnù. I am here.
Open your eyes!Yuánchi’s voice shouted in my head. I snapped my eyes open as a colossal black mass flashed past. Her wake shook us.
I was right,I thought.She did not strike. We can delay her.I watched her bank effortlessly, already over the hills. She was so fast. We were flapping along like a wounded pigeon while a hawk circled.
With a graceful flip, she turned ahead of us. Facing us. The distance closedfaster than my land-based perception could comprehend. Her wings blurred and darkened. My vision? No, her wake was turning to a churning storm cloud…
Her jaws opened and black surged, obscuring her, roaring toward us.
Hold firm!Yuánchi shouted in my mind, then his wings folded, hiding the sky, wrapping me in a cage of shadowed scarlet. Unsupported, we fell like a stone. Thunder exploded and the last traces of light vanished. The air chilled, turned frigid, became searing cold. We tumbled, and I slipped sideways, my face and shoulder striking Yuánchi’s furled wing. The scales burned. Terrified, I scrambled for a neck knob and dragged myself back. The skin of my cheek pulled, frozen to his wing, then tore free.
Shadowy light returned at the creases of his wings. The interior of his wings was frosted and motionless. Still we fell, then with a crunching spray of broken ice, his wings spread, catching us in a glide barely above the lake’s choppy waves.
Wet warmth was running over my cheek and blowing away in the wind, but I felt nothing. Too terrified to feel pain.
This is enough of your plan, Yuánchi thought. I will drive her back, then set you down.
I had never heard anger in his voice before.
His wings pushed hard, new rips flapping in the wind as he lifted us.
EMMA
The captain strodeto Mr. Tinsdale and pointed. “Sir, riders are approaching.”
Several hundred yards away, six horses were picking their way down the rough hill. They moved slowly, but when they reached the lakeshore, they could gallop the rest of the way. Even here, I recognized Mr. Darcy’s tall form in the saddle of his gray steed as he guided it, skidding, down the scree. The others had the red coats of soldiers.
Mr. Tinsdale looked up at the flying dragons, assessing. “Take your men. Stop them.” The captain barked commands, and they mounted and rode out onto the lakeshore. His nine men against Mr. Darcy’s six.
The dragons had clashed in dark thunder over the lake. Now they wereapproaching each other again, but Yuánchi was flying poorly, slow and level, like a lumbering carriage, not an agile draca. Wounded.
