Behind me, I heard Darian mutter, “That was—both of you just—do you have any idea what you?—”
“Don’t.” Varyth snarled.
I didn’t stop walking.
Didn’t look back.
There was nothing between us.
Nothing at all.
We’d both just said so.
23
Kaelen’s scales were warm beneath my palms as I hauled myself into the saddle, every muscle in my body protesting the unfamiliar movement. The leather was supple and well-crafted, with high backs and sturdy handles that looked like they’d been designed by someone who understood exactly how easy it was to fall off a dragon.
Around me, Brynelle sat astride her silver dragon with an easy confidence that came from years of partnership. Shaelith’s mount—a sleek black beast with violet eyes—stamped impatiently, wings rustling. Fenric’s dragon, storm-grey and scarred, watched everything with the same calculating intensity as its rider.
“So,”Kaelen’s voice drifted into my mind, amused and knowing.“Was this your idea? A new and creative way to avoid the High Lord?”
Heat crawled up my neck. “No. It was Fenric’s idea.” My fingers tightened on the saddle grips. “Besides, Varyth has been away this week.”
“Away. Right.”Kaelen shifted beneath me, muscles bunching as he prepared for takeoff.“So he’s avoiding you.”
“No one’s avoiding anyone,” I said through gritted teeth. “We mutually agreed to stay out of each other’s way.”
“Sure,”his voice came again, rich with laughter.“Of course. And I suppose that ‘mutual agreement’ is why you both look like wounded animals every time someone mentions the other’s name?”
“Your opinions are neither requested nor appreciated.”
“Good thing I give them freely then.”A pause, and I could feel his amusement radiating through the bond.“You know, I could just eat him when he returns. Would make avoiding him significantly easier. One less brooding High Lord cluttering up your emotional landscape.”
I choked on air. “You can’t just—you’re not eating Varyth.”
“Why not? I’m told I have an excellent palate for pompous males who can’t communicate their feelings. Very tender. Pairs well with a nice red.”
“Oh my gods.”
“Besides,”he continued, entirely too pleased with himself.“Think of the convenience. No more awkward hallway encounters. No more pretending you don’t notice when he walks into a room. Just blessed, uncomplicated silence.”
“You’re absolutely deranged.”
“I prefer pragmatic.”
The dragon launched into the sky without warning, the sudden acceleration forcing the air from my lungs. Wind screamed past my face as we climbed, Kaelen’s wings carving through clouds with liquid grace.
“The offer stands, by the way. One High Lord, lightly seasoned. Just say the word.”
“Shut up and teach me to fly,” I snapped, even as my body thrilled at the sensation of altitude, at the way the world spread out below us like something I could finally escape.
“Gladly, wildfire.”His tone shifted, growing serious.“But first rule of dragon riding: honesty. Especially with yourself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,”he said, banking into a turn that made my stomach flip.“That you can’t run from things while sitting on my back. The sky doesn’t lie. And neither should you.”
Around us, the other dragons fell into formation—Brynelle’s silver to our right, Shaelith’s black slightly ahead, Fenric’s grey bringing up the rear like a storm waiting to break.
