I made the mistake of looking down.
The ground was so far away it looked unreal. Like a painting. If I fell from this height, I wouldn't have time to scream before I hit. The thought made my grip tighten until my hands cramped.
Steady, the bond whispered. The emotion wasn't words but I understood it anyway. Safe. I've got you. You won't fall.
His certainty wrapped around me like armor. Through our connection, I felt how completely he controlled his flight. Every minor adjustment of his wings, every shift of his tail for balance, every compensation for my weight and the way I was grippingtoo tight on his right side. He was aware of me every second. Would catch me before I fell.
The trust that required made my throat tight.
We completed another spiral around the citadel. The tower rose higher than I'd realized from the ground—glass and steel reaching up into the low clouds, with platforms jutting out at intervals like observation decks. At the very top, maybe five hundred feet up, a larger platform emerged from the mist.
Zephyron angled toward it. His wings beat once, twice, slowing our momentum. We glided the final approach. His talons extended, reaching for the platform surface. The landing was surprisingly gentle—just a soft impact and the scrape of claws on steel.
I tried to slide off his back.
My hands wouldn't release. My fingers had locked around his scales, cramped from gripping so hard for so long. I pulled. Nothing happened. My body wasn't taking commands anymore.
"I can't—" My voice came out broken. "My hands won't—"
The dragon shifted beneath me. The transformation happened faster this time, smooth and controlled. Scales became skin. Wings folded and compressed. Massive form condensed back into human shape.
And suddenly I was sitting on Zephyron's human shoulders, my locked hands gripping his neck, his hands coming up to steady my thighs.
"Easy," he said. That electric undertone in his voice resonated through his shoulders into my body. "You're safe, Little One. You made it."
He pried my fingers loose one at a time, gentle and patient despite the way I'd probably left marks on his neck. The moment my hands released, my entire body went limp.
He caught me. Lowered me carefully to the platform.
My legs gave out the second my feet touched steel. I collapsed in a heap, every muscle simultaneously deciding it was done holding me upright. The infection in my back screamed. My vision went white with pain.
Through the bond, I felt his alarm spike. Felt him kneel beside me, hands hovering like he wasn't sure where to touch that wouldn't hurt.
"The carved intelligence," I managed. "In my back. Infected."
"Damn." The word was quiet but carried weight. "Can you stand if I help?"
"No." My legs were rubber. My vision kept swimming. "I don't think so."
"Then I'll carry you."
He lifted me like I weighed nothing. One arm under my knees, the other supporting my back—carefully, so carefully, avoiding the worst of the carved wounds. My head lolled against his shoulder. Through the bond, I felt his controlled urgency. His immediate planning. The list of supplies he'd need, people he'd have to contact, security measures to implement.
The last thing I saw before my vision failed completely was the sky. Clear and blue and impossibly distant. Free.
Then I passed out in the Storm Lord's arms.
Iwokeuptolight.Not the dim oil lamps of the temple chambers or the smoky torches of the ritual halls. Clean, steady electric light that didn't flicker or smoke or require someone to tend it. It poured through glass walls on three sides of the room, illuminating everything in warm yellow.
Zephyron was still carrying me. I could feel the steady rhythm of his walk, the electric hum of his body through the bond, the careful way he held me to avoid jostling my infected back.
"You're awake." His voice carried relief. "Good. You were out for a few minutes. Worried me."
A few minutes. That's all? It felt like I'd been unconscious for hours.
He pushed through a door that whispered open on silent hinges—no creaking, no resistance, just smooth modern engineering. The room beyond made my breath catch.
His private quarters were huge. Glass walls looked out over Tempest Reach, the city spreading below us in neat grids of streets and buildings. I could see the plaza from here, distant and toy-like. The morning sun caught on metal and glass everywhere, throwing light in directions that made geometry do impossible things.
