“Humor me.”
The way he said it, warm and fond and entirely toocharming, made heat spiral through my chest. I wanted to kiss him and throttle him at the same time.
Somewhere between insisting this would remain professional and practical and solving magical mysteries together, we’d stumbled into what looked like love.
A terrifying thought.
“We’ll leave first thing tomorrow,” Raoul said.
Everyone left, leaving us to check and recheck every item. I admired how competent and sure he was, how he anticipated needs before they arose. How he double-checked my weather instruments without touching them, knowing I’d arranged them how I wanted.
“You’re good at this,” I said.
“At packing?”
“At leading. Preparing. Making people feel safe.” I gestured at the organized supplies. “You think through every contingency.”
“Years of practice.” Pleasure colored his voice. “My father used to say proper preparation prevents poor performance.”
“That’s a lot of P’s.”
“He liked alliteration.”
I laughed, and his expression softened, making my belly flip.
“I love your laugh,” he said. “The real one, not the polite one you use in council meetings.”
Oh.
“We should sleep,” I said, because my heart was flip-flopping, and I needed time to process the feelings threatening to overwhelm me.
He nodded, but his eyes said he knew exactly what I was feeling.
And that he just might be feeling it too.
Dawn colored the sky as I climbed onto Raoul’s back. He’d shifted in the courtyard again.
Warren and two other dragon shifters stood ready in their dragon forms. All three were larger than average, built for the mountains’ harsh conditions.
When I nodded, Raoul launched skyward, the other dragons following. Cold air hit my face, sharp enough to steal my breath. I tucked closer to his neck, grateful for his warmth.
We climbed higher than we’d flown before, past where most dragons bothered to go. The air thinned until each breath felt insufficient. My weather magic stirred, recognizing the atmospheric changes, cataloging pressure and temperature and moisture content.
The peaks here were savage and beautiful. Jagged spires of stone thrust toward the sky, their surfaces scoured by relentless wind. Snow clung to impossible angles. Ice gleamed in crevices that may have never seen direct sunlight.
Warren shot flames to gain our attention and tipped a wing toward one area.
The main formation,Raoul said.
We banked toward a massive cliff face where the tremor had split the rock, revealing ancient ice beneath. So simple. Why had I missed it the first time we’d flown this way?
It didn’t look like normal ice. This was compressed, dense, layered like tree rings marking many years of accumulation. Blues and greens swirled through it, minerals creating patterns that spoke of unimaginable age. The exposed section had to be a dragon’s height tall, maybe more, and it jutted from the cliff like a frozen wound.
Fates,I breathed.It’s enormous.
Can you handle something this large?
I think so.Doubt crept in. This was so much more than I’d anticipated. What if I couldn’t generate enough heat? What if I lost control of the thermal barrier?
