Thorne kept his voice flat. “Then you can tell him to land more softly next time.”
“I’d sooner like to ask him to dance,” Commander Dareth muttered, almost fondly.
Vaeryn pushed her long blond hair aside and leaned in beside Thaelyn, her voice low and laced with admiration. “His family must have been bred from the War Gods.”
“You’ll be leading formation combat drills with cadets this week,” Commander Dareth said to Thorne. “You may not be a ranked officer, but you and your dragon’s presence will command them. They need to learn to fight next to power thatterrifiesthem.”
“Is that why you brought Razorth down here?” Thorne asked.
Commander Dareth glanced at him. “I brought him to help train you. He needs to be near the only other black dragon like him, who remembers what can be lost. He is no longer the largest dragon, and he and the others need to learn to adjust to that. The dragons have a strict code of conduct and a strict hierarchy of authority. They need to work it out now, so we can get past it.”
Vornokh growled softly, flames curling from his nostrils. Both men fell silent. The wind swept across the field. In the distance, the bells tolled from the western tower, signaling duskfall drills.“The girl is watching you.”
Thorne didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. He felt her. He cursedhimself. Why was he letting some first-year cadet distract him from something he worked so hard to achieve? All his life, he proved he was worthy. He dreamed of being a dragon rider like his parents, brother, and sister. He finally had everything he always wanted. He didn’t have time for this. He had no room for her or any other girl. He began to get very irritated by it. He needed to focus. Thorne breathed deeply, fingers curling.
“Let’s begin with learning to mount,” commanded Commander Dareth.
Thorne took a step forward, boots sinking slightly in the trampled grass and dust. Thaelyn’s eyes traced every part of his body. Not just as a soldier, but as a man. His form was carved in clean, defined lines: broad chest, a tapered waist, and legs that carried the coiled strength of a predator. Her eyes locked on the flex of his arms. Veins visible beneath taut bronzed skin. Forearms that looked like they could snap iron shackles in two. She shouldn’t be noticing these things. But she was.
The sun cast fractured shadows through Vornokh’s spiked wing bones, draping the flight field with darkness. Thorne was tall and barely stood over the curve of Vornokh’s ankle joint. The scale of his dragon was unreal. Humbling.
Vornokh loomed, and coils of smoke and shadows were rising faintly from between his plated scales. His foreleg was bent slightly, massive as a siege tower. His joints were thick with ridges of blackened scales and bone. His dark, curled talons were the size of a grown man’s torso. With a quick flex of Thorne’s legs, Thorne leapt in the air. His hands were gripping the natural seam between two thick armored scales. For a moment, he just hung as if he would fall. His arms were tight, and his biceps were straining. He managed to pull himself upward with a grunt.
Commander Dareth’s voice was calm but unyielding. “You're not just mounting him. You’re earning the right to survive the ride.”
Vornokh turned one molten eye toward Thorne, unimpressed. The dragon shifted his weight, and the ground seemed to groan behind him. His limb flexed, exposing the tight grooves between plated scales with jutting ridges just deep enough for a human handto grip. It was a natural ladder, if you were bold or foolish enough to attempt to climb it. Thorne reached out, laying a gloved hand on the lowest ridge. The heat pulsed beneath his palm, and the surface was rough, like volcanic stone, ancient and alive.
“Don’t hesitate,” Commander Dareth warned. “If you fall, he won’t catch you.”
Thorne tightened his jaw, set his boot to the first notch of armor, and began to climb. This was nothing like the smooth saddle mounts taught to others who bonded a regular dragon. Vornokh was more than double their size. This was an exercise in vertical ascent up a moving fortress. Thorne fell off several times, landing flat on his back. Other times, he caught himself before he fell and was able to scale his way back up. With each attempt, his fingers clutched the jagged scales.
Thorne reached for a higher ridge near the beast’s upper forelimb and swung a leg for leverage. Just as he shifted his weight, the smooth scales slickened beneath his boot. His foot slipped, and his body tilted backwards dangerously. His torso dropped suddenly, and for a heart-stopping instant, he hung by one arm, his body swinging out over the open air.
Gasps broke out across the fields. Thaelyn stepped forward instinctively, her stomach plummeting.
Thorne didn’t panic. His fingers clenched tighter. Muscles rippled down his entire side as he twisted, kicking against the dragon’s thick hide to propel himself upward again. His forearm bulged with strain, chest heaving, but he didn’t fall. With a final surge of strength, he dragged himself up. His shoulders were burning as he finally pulled himself up the slope of Vornokh’s leg, then to the lower curve of the wing joint, where wind thundered with every breath the beast took.
“Are you trying to make this as difficult as possible? You’re breathing so damn hard it’s almost knocking me off again,” said Thorne through the bond.
“If I wanted to knock you off, you’d know it.”
Thorne tightened his jaw. As he crested near the base of the dragon’s shoulder, the saddle came into view. It was a leatherharness cinched around the thick base of Vornokh’s neck, reinforced with the ancient steel bands. One more pull, and Thorne was astride him. His breath caught in his throat. His legs stretched across the dragon’s broad back, and his thick, muscular thighs were burning from the tension. His spine was pressed against the saddle’s rear ridge. Below him, the ground felt impossibly far away. The dragon beneath him was shifting again, unbothered, unstoppable.
“Took you long enough,” came Vornokh’s voice through the bond. “Next time, crawl faster.”
Throne gave a breathless laugh. “You’re not exactly a short climb.”
“I’m not meant to be.”
Thorne held the reins firmly and with command.
Vaeryn whispered beside them, barely audible, “Thaelyn’s thinking about doing the same to Thorne later.”
Thaelyn’s cheeks flamed. “Stop, someone will hear you.” Her body burned. She hadn’t wanted this, but there it was: a slow, molten curl of awareness threading low in her belly. She told herself it was just admiration for his strength and skills.
Vornokh shifted, the ground trembling beneath him. His wings stretched outward in one slow, deliberate arc. One beat could level the field if he chose. He looked back at Thorne, and the air vibrated between them with silent understanding. The dragon’s wings stretched open.
“Hold tight,” he growled low. “Oh, and try not to scream.”
