Cindrissian remained seated, staring into his empty glass like it held answers he couldn’t quite reach. He didn’t look up when I moved toward the door, but his voice stopped me halfway there.
“Thank you.” Barely above a whisper. “For not—” He cut himself off, fingers flexing. “For backing off when you needed to.”
I glanced back at him. At the rigid line of his shoulders, the careful way he held himself like he was made of fractured glass and one wrong move would shatter him completely.
“We’ve all got shit we don’t talk about,” I said quietly. “I’m not going to push you to bleed yours out for my curiosity.”
“Get some rest, Isara.” His crimson eyes found mine, and something ancient looked back. “You’re going to need it.”
35
The silver kiss of moon-forged steel against my thighs was almost as perfect as the anticipation crackling through my blood. Two curved blades, sharp enough to carve through shadow and bone, strapped to my legs like promises of violence waiting to be kept. Kaelen dozed in the grass nearby, his massive green form sprawled in a patch of sunlight like the world’s most dangerous cat.
“Ready for battle, wildfire?”His voice drifted through my mind, lazy with amusement.
“Always,” I murmured back, adjusting the leather straps that held my daggers secure. The war camp visit with Lincatheron had been postponed twice, first for weather, then for what he had vaguely called “strategic considerations.” But today, finally, we were going.
A whistle echoed from above.
I tilted my head back and nearly choked on my own spit.
Lincatheron circled overhead on the back of a dragon that looked like it had been carved from twilight itself. Dark violet scales caught the morning light, throwing back flashes of deep purple and midnight blue. The dragon’s wings were massive,each beat sending ripples through the air that I could feel in my bones. And astride that magnificent beast, Lincatheron looked like something out of legend. Every inch the warrior commander, dark hair whipping in the wind, that familiar intensity written across his features even from this distance.
“Now that,”Kaelen rumbled, one amber eye cracking open.“Is a proper entrance.”
Lincatheron raised one hand, a gesture that was part invitation, part command.
“Your chariot awaits, wildfire,”Kaelen purred, rolling to his feet in one fluid motion that defied his massive size. The sunlight caught the emerald depths of his scales as he stretched, wings unfurling like banners of war.
I didn’t need to be asked twice. My hands found their familiar holds along his neck as I swung up, settling into the saddle in a position that had become as natural as breathing. The leather of my riding gear creaked, daggers shifting against my thighs as Kaelen coiled beneath me like a loaded spring.
Kaelen launched us skyward with a thrust of wings that stole the breath from my lungs. The ground fell away in a rush of green and gold, and then we were soaring. Wind whipped through my hair, the intoxicating freedom of flight sung through my veins.
For long minutes, we flew in companionable silence. Lincatheron’s dragon moved like poetry beside us, those twilight wings cutting through air. I caught glimpses of him in my peripheral vision, the way he sat his mount like he’d been born to it, completely at ease in his element of war and sky.
Then his dragon pulled closer.
“I have something to admit,” he called across the wind between us.
I grinned, letting the wild joy of flight bleed into my answer. “If you’re planning to murder me to keep me quiet about you and Fenric, you probably shouldn’t warn me first.”
Lincatheron’s laugh was carried away by the wind, but I caught his snort of amusement. “Not yet,” he shot back, “I’ll wait ‘til we’re over the ocean. Far easier to dispose of your body.”
I snorted. “Then what?” I called, adjusting my grip as Kaelen shifted beneath me.
“These warriors I’m bringing you to assess—” Lincatheron’s voice carried that familiar edge of controlled intensity. “The other day made it clear there are some gaps in my knowledge. I want your opinion, but?—”
“But?” The word was snatched away by wind and wings.
“They’re a dragon squad.” His eyes met mine across the space between our mounts. “And technically, there’s no authorised female dragon squad in our ranks yet. So they don’t officially exist, and I’d need your discretion going forward.”
I didn’t even hesitate. “Done.”
Some secrets were worth keeping, especially ones that involved giving women the power to rain fire from the sky.
Lincatheron’s expression shifted—surprise, maybe, or approval. “Cindrissian must be right about you. Good at keeping secrets.”
I grinned up at Lincatheron, already feeling the edge of mischief creep onto my face. “Oh, Cindrissian’s only scratched the surface of my secret-keeping abilities. I’ve got depths of discretion he can’t even imagine.”
