She gave me a nod.
“Divide up,” I called out. “Lexie, take a two-thirds of the fighters and follow Helena.”
“I, um,” Lexie patted Levar, her badger companion sitting on her shoulder. “He’ll shift.”
That was right. Levar’s beast form was a dragon.
I leaned close to her, lowering my voice. “Is he comfortable riding into battle?”
“He can’t wait.”
Levar chirped, his whiskers twitching.
“Derren can ride with me,” she added.
Helena directed the rest of the group to the other aeries.
“Kerralyn?” I said. “You’re with me. We’ll take mounts from here.”
I grabbed a saddle and strode to Kyreth’s stall. Helena walked beside me, quickly telling me how to control Kyreth once I’d mounted her back.
Even the dragon must sense my need, because she lowered her head, a soft chuff vibrating through her chest.
Helena helped me saddle the dragon and secure the straps snugly beneath her belly.
“Don’t forget the commands,” she said before leaving the stall. “Fly to an open field far enough from the village but within striking distance. I wouldn’t recommend you fly into battle on Kyreth. One dart in a direction you don’t anticipate, and you’ll be the one flying—without wings.”
“Will do,” I said.
As soon as Helena had left the stall to prepare her own mount, I turned to Kerralyn, a wild, reckless smile on my lips. “We’re stealing this dragon.”
“Technically, we’re borrowing her,” Kerralyn said. The corner of her mouth twitched. “Or committing treason, which I heartily agree with.”
Pherin trilled from my shoulder, and I sensed agreement. Even my minxpip knew some rules were meant to be burned.
Before I could mount Kyreth, Naveah strode into the stall. The master of the armory’s expression was as stern and unyielding as the plate armor she now wore. Her fluffy gray cat companion draped across her shoulders, its tail swishing lazily as if it were observing a mildly interesting mouse hunt.
She stopped at Kyreth’s shoulder and dipped her head with the respect of one warrior to another. Turning toward me, her gaze traveled over the leathers I’d donned this morning, the dinged-up daggers sheathed at my sides.
“This won’t do,” she growled.
For a moment, I thought she was going to drag me to the tack room and lock me inside. Instead, she held out a matched pair of blades. Long and slightly curved, the magnificent blades had intricately carved hilts.
“Oh, I couldn’t?—”
She urged them toward me. “Do you know how to use them?”
“Yes,” I said slowly.
“Then take them and wear them well.”
I took them from her gently, twisting them this way and that, admiring their superior craftsmanship.
Commander Thorne had shown me blades like this once. Only a master could create weapons as lovely and deadly as these.
They felt like they’d been forged for my hands.
“Whoever leads this charge needs better weapons than battle-worn steel from the training hall,” Naveah said dryly.
