“If you let another drop of blood fall from her veinsagain, I will ensure yours runs dry.” Then he shifts, pushes off the ground in a spray of sand, and joins the clouds.
Ozias watches him go, a frown pulling at his lips.
My heart is a riot in my chest. I swallow hard, but my mouth is dry and sand coats my tongue. “I might need to speak with Atlanta about the nuances of mind walking after all.”
Ozias softens then sinks down in front of me to lay his forehead against mine. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fly too far.”
The last of the air in my lungs seeps out of me. His gaze flicks back towards the horizon, a curse parting his lips, but he says nothing more as he shifts and lowers down for me to climb on. I scramble onto his neck, wincing as my shoulder protests, my head dizzy, my vision dotted.
As we fly, our shadow stretches across the white sand, dark and dangerous in its length. The trip here was long, Ozias is exhausted, and I fear for my ability to remain conscious enough to hold on. It was a mistake for me to leave the Realm, but Ozias wanted me to come and I didn’t have the self-restraint to say no. I wanted to do whatever else I could to free my people.My people. The missives.I gasp, checking behind us.
The basket is long gone; all the work he poured into those notices lost to the tide. I only hope there’s time to warn Nevoba still—after today, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back the aching need to bond myself to Zhoric.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE REALM COMES into view the moment the sun is severed in half by the line where sky meets land. Above, the sky is turning the deep blue of night, the first stars glinting into their glory to announce that evening is nigh. Unconsciously, my body tightens its hold on Ozias. Somewhere along our flight home, the tension of Ozias’s muscles eased, but the stiffness is back again as we draw closer to the Realm, yet still too far.
We’ll make it,he vows, but I know it’s a lie meant to soothe me. As he spurs himself on faster, grunting with the effort, I offer what comfort I can, drawing slow, delicate circles on the side of his neck.
I glance over the Sere, the ground dark with long shadows dragging behind each rock monument, signifying the end of our time beyond the Realm. Movement catches my attention. My hand on the side of Ozias’s neck stills. Hecants his head, a snarl ripping from his throat as he sees what I do.
Dozens of dragons moving in tandem—straight towards us.
Ozias beats his wings faster, snorting as he pushes himself, his ribcage expanding and contracting with his efforts. I hold on tighter, but I’m weak from the attack and the long hours I’ve spent clinging to Ozias today. The sun is a deep red, like an angry watchful eye telling us we’re out of time.
From the mountainside, another pack of draconem appear. An ambush. Ozias leaves the Realm often and as far as I understand, this has never happened before. The only difference this time is me. Perhaps if Ozias hadn’t expended so much energy he could drum up what he needs to use Thrace’s power. Perhaps, if I could shift and use my power, I could help him hold them off. But he did, and I can’t. I brace myself for whatever happens next.
The Realm is within our reach, the last slice of the sun barely visible beyond the horizon, its final glow a brilliant warning. Then we’re nearing the concealing haze of the Realm. A tingle races up my spine. My skin coats with a sheen of light sweat that mingles with the mists.
As Ozias adjusts to begin his descent into the Realm. The dragons behind us close in, the ones on our right from the mountains not far behind. From the corner of my left eye a movement steals my breath. I open my mouth to shout a warning, but it’s too late. A dragon collides hard with Ozias’s back end, knocking my grip on him loose. I scramble to recover, but the impact sends Ozias spinning, and then I’m falling, twisting in the air as Ozias plummets, wings wrapping around his feet. We were up so high that the damage he’ll inflict—upon himself and whatever stands in his wake—will be immense. The Realm below is a riot of frantic movement. From the lookout wall, Isaa and another draconem I don’t recognize leap off and dart for Ozias and grasp his tail and an arm between them to slow his fall. Another dragon slices through the air under me and catches me hard on her back behind a set of powerful wings.
Are you all right?Atlanta’s voice. Adrenaline settlesinto my system at the same moment a shiver wracks my body. My bones crack and I feel the transformation jolting through me. My mind and body are so out of sorts that falling into it smoothly is well beyond my reach.
Kaisa?
My fingers press into her red-orange scales, my breathing labored. In her effort to catch me, Atlanta’s trajectory is facing up, toward the open sky, instead of down into the safety of the Realm.
Kaisa, answer me,she pleads, worry etched into her voice and I swallow, drumming up the will to respond.
Atlanta roars and her body jerks hard mid-flight. I dig my fingers into her tough scales, splintering my nails. Blood fans across the open air. Atlanta wheels around and plunges her sharp talons into her attackers face again and again until he releases her wing. As we tip sideways, Issa shoots as fast as an arrow towards our opponent and gouges him with her antlered head. Atlanta plummets and we cross into the Realm’s border, one wing flapping hopelessly while the other hangs limp at her side. Our fall turns into a full spiral, then another. My mind whirls. Another twist and I’ll be pinned beneath her. I let my transformation take over. I curl my talons under her and pump my wings, slowing her as well as I can, my injured shoulder screaming at me to give up.
With a frustrated growl, I implore my body to do as I say, and will every ounce of power to come to me. From all around, wisps of energy stream towards me. It comes from the sky. It comes from the magical barrier around the Realm. The energy travels to me in cascading ribbons from every dragon within my line of sight. In that moment, Atlanta feels as light as air, my lungs breathe easy, and the pain in my shoulder dissipates as if carried away on a wind.
I lower her gently to the ground on her uninjured side, and Ozias meets us, running, in his human form. Without meaning to, without even thinking, I melt back into my human skin.
Atlanta stays in her draconem, and I can’t make out the difference between her scales and the blood that runsin rivulets down her side from the apex of her wing. Ozias yells for water and healers, kneeling beside me to examine her wing with frantic yet practiced movements. The healers come at once, cleaning her wound. I inch my way towards her head, laying a hand on her brow.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Atlanta tips her head further into my hand, a soft whine wheezing out of her.
Ozias joins me at her head. “Atlanta, can you hear me?” he murmurs.
She whines again. The line along his jaw tenses. He cranes his head back towards the healers, checking out the wound. His jaw tightens. “It’s deep. You’re in pain. But you’ll heal from this. You’ll be fine.”
Atlanta sighs and lets her eyes drift shut. Her breathing begins to even out as the healers finish cleaning the wound, draping it with a damp cloth suffused with the deeply astringent scent of herbal antiseptics.
Ozias lets his forehead fall onto the side of her neck, his own eyes closing, his breaths flaring his nostrils. He cares for her in a way that goes beyond loyalty.
