“Because you are you.”
Byron turns to him, arching a single brow. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Marvin shrugs. “You’re a chronic showoff.”
Which is probably the meanest thing you’ll ever hear Marvin say. Also, probably the truest.
Byron turns so that he is walking backwards. “Willow, tell him that I’m not a showoff.” Just as the words are out of his mouth, his foot lands on the edge of one of the platforms and he begins to fall backwards. Quick as a flash, my hand shoots out and grabs him by the front of his shirt, and then I yank him toward me.
Byron’s eyes are wide as he stares down at me, breathing hard. “Uh, thanks?” he says when he has a second for his brain to catch up with what happened. Unfortunately, my brain is still floundering.
My eyes flick down to my hand still wrapped around the material of his shirt.
Did I justhelpByron Coalbiter?
I yank my hand back like the touch of his shirt burned me.
I’m not entirely sure what was running through my mind or why I didn’t let him fall and twist his ankle, but I blame my reflexes. I pull back, flexing my hand as I stare at the creases that it left on his shirt. I stride past him, pursing my lips. “I shouldn’t lie,” I say at last. “It could end poorly for me.”
I don’t dare risk a second glance back at Byron as I race forward. I come to a stop beside the dragons a feeling of awe replacing the one of muddled confusion that I felt. The beasts are majestic, far larger than anything that I had imagined. They tower above us, larger than the tallest building I have ever seen. Massive horns grace its head and smoke curls from its narrow snout. The scales are so large they’re about the size of dinner plates and they look almost sharp to the touch. Chains that are about as thick as my arm wrap around the two dragon’s necks attaching them to a carriage.
“These are red dragons,” Marvin says, coming to a stop next to me. “They are the largest dragons capable of being domesticated. Despite their massive size, they’re actually normally quite docile.”
I turn to him, nudging his arm. “Do I want to know how you know that?”
“I make it my business to know my dragons,” he says with a sniff, before reaching into his satchel and pulling out a book with a cracked binding. It looks like it has been well read. The wordsAn Encyclopedia of Dragonsis printed across the binding.
I huff a small laugh and shake my head. “Marvin, remind me not to be seen in public with you.”
“I hope your wild fae sensibilities are not bothered at seeing an imprisoned animal,” Istaria says, stepping up between me and Marvin.
I look over my shoulder half expecting to see another fae has joined us, but the only person on that side of me is Byron. And he’s as human as the day is long. I whip my gaze back to Istaria, feeling my eyes widen when I see her looking directly at me.
“Are you talking to me?” I ask, surprised by how high my voice comes out. “I’m no wild fae. You had it right the first time, I’m low-magic.”
My problem is that my magic is nearly nonexistent, not that my magic is uncontrollable.
“Hmmm,” she says not looking convinced. “I’ve changed my mind. You look wild to me.”
I pull back, blinking repeatedly. I do? Last I checked, I wasn’t running around barefoot wearing antlers with leaves sticking out of my hair.
“Wait!” I call as Istaria starts toward the carriage. One of the dragons snorts at my outburst and twitches its tail. I wince holding up my hands to pacify the creature and take off toward Istaria who hasn’t stopped walking. “What do you mean that I look like a wild fae?” I demand, coming to a stop next to her.
I’d always thought that I just looked like a fae. Fae like humans are capable of bearing many varying appearances. I didn’t realize that there was a specificlookof the wild fae. But then, I’ve also never met a wild fae. They usually stick to themselves, and their cities made of trees, refusing to associate with humans and definitely not associating with other fae.
She pauses, her foot already in the carriage, her eyes flicking up and down my form before she arches an eyebrow. “Well, for one your coloring is too earthy, your eyes green, your hair that reddish brown.” She waves her hand, her nose wrinkling. “You have a, well, a wild look about you.”
Says the girl with a spell of wind whipping through her hair, leaving it so tangled that a week’s worth of brushing probably won’t get rid of it.
She finishes ducking into the carriage without another word or explanation. I ball my hand into a fist my mind racing. It’s true that I never knew my parents, but I couldn’t be wild. Little as my magic is, it’s controllable. I’ve never had any issues summoning light or controlling its brightness. Control was never the issue; it was just the sheer inadequacy of my magic that always made me ashamed.
All of a sudden, a hand is brushing against my knuckles. I blink, turning to find myself staring into Byron’s sparkling blue eyes. “Don’t take her words to heart. Istaria is used to seeing high fae, she has no idea that regular fae are out there and she’s just trying to explain away what she doesn’t understand. Besides, you don’t look very wild to me.” Byron’s eyes flick over me, the corner of his mouth turning up. “You’re still the same old, Lo, as ever.”
Somehow, Byron’s words only work to make me feel worse.
Chapter Eleven
Thesilenceinthecarriage is palpable. Somehow, I wound up sitting next to Istaria. Not that there were a lot of options. I’m also forced to be across from Byron and my knee bumps his as the dragons start forward with a shuddering takeoff. The carriage rolls forward and as it does, I start to realize just how crazy this is. Because now we are in a carriage being pulled by dragons who are being controlled by a fae we’ve never even met before today, and we are rolling right toward the edge of this city… and the steep drop to Commonweald below.
