When his shadow fell over me, I remembered he was not a horde king…and so I lifted my eyes to his.
Up close, his eyes were even more piercing, even more haunting than I could have imagined. Craning my head back, I held them steadily, determined to show no fear. If he was trying to intimidate us, or to size us up, I wanted to give him no reason to find me lacking.
Something strange happened.
Our gazes held for impossibly long, time slowing. The rider frowned, a subtle and slight downturn of his full lips, as he peered at me more closely, his observation sharpening.
Then in a desperate panic, my heart lurched. I felt the pull of my heartstone magic wiggling in my chest, as if summoned by an unseen force. I nearly gasped as shock withered my veins.
Not here, not here,I thought.
Then where?a mocking voice replied. Not mine. A male’s voice.
His?
Impossible.
Don’t tell me what’s possible, little Dakkari,he replied, his voice a seductive whisper, threading through my mind and body like we were one.Shall I turn your mind inside out and see all your secrets spill?
I felt a surge of magic inside me—my own—and I envisioned a blade.
The connection broke, and I felt it like a cord pulled tight, severed. Relief came.
Suddenly I could breathe again. I bundled my magic up tight, shoving it back, locking it away as I struggled to calm my racing heart. Praying that no one had seen, hoping my eyes hadn’t been glowing.
The rider stared down at me, though I couldn’t read his expression. Behind him, his Elthika’s gaze sharpened on me.
Finally, the rider stepped back, and I almost went limp, as though I was a puppet controlled with strings. My hard swallow felt loud. I realized the farmer boy was trying to shake off my hand because I was holding him too tight, and I let go, feeling cool air rush against my sweating palm.
He was inside my mind, I thought in disbelief.
“I am Alaryk Arn’dyne,” the rider said. His voice sounded as it had in my mind. A rough velvet that made goose bumps spread over my arms. Calm yet cutting. “Rider of Samryn.”
He gestured back to his Elthika, who stomped its legs at the sound of its title, making the earth boom and my bones rattle.
Alaryk Arn’dyne’s gaze cut back to me when he said, “I am theKarathof Grym.”
Shock made me freeze.
Karath.
So this was the king of Grym…
I hadn’t expected him to make the journey personally.
My jaw was clenched so tightly I thought my teeth might pulverize. Maybe there was a reason you never met the gaze of a horde king. MaybeKarathswere the same. Maybe they could steal one’s soul. Maybe it was a warning.
“We will be seeing a lot of one another…though I doubt you’ll last the season,” Alaryk continued. His head inclined toward the remaining Elthika with a transport saddle. “There’s your way to Grym. Ascend. Or it’s your last chance to stay in your homeland.”
I cut a glance over my shoulder when the two guardsmen stepped toward the Elthika without hesitation. I looked at my mother and father. The tears streaking mylomma’s face shimmered in the rising sun. I offered a smile, one I didn’t feel.
It’ll be okay,I wanted to tell her. My father’s face was solemn at her side, though he offered me a small smile back, a slight nod. The steady pillar, always.
Then I looked at Kiron. Hewaslooking at me now. He inclined his head, subtly, before straightening. They were the only representatives from theDothikkar’s palace. Not even the king had come.
Crouching, I snagged my single satchel off the ground, everything I’d be living off of for the next season, before looping it around my shoulders. Then my feet carried me to the dragon, noticing that theKarathof Grym had gone to one of his other riders, was speaking with him in low tones, the words of which I couldn’t make out.
The wing of the Elthika was stretched out toward the earth, the guardsmen having already ascended up it, taking a prime place next to the Grym rider sitting at the helm. The farmer was halfway up, his strides well balanced and surprisingly agile. I reached my hand out to touch the Elthika’s wing—though myprior awe was now shrouded in worry. The wing membrane felt like layers and layers of thick, hardened leather.
