“What happens if she looks away?” Arletasks.
“Then you retreat,” Theren says simply.
I watch her take a deep breath. That woman can't help herself but find a friend.
She steps forward, hand out.
The dragon, Seraph, watches. I keep waiting for the creature’s head to turn so that I could bring Arlet back to my side, but she doesn’t.
There were other things we needed to do, and being made to take a tour when the King of the Elves was hunting her seemed foolish.
But then, Arlet reaches the end of the nest. Her fingertips brush against golden scales. The dragon does not flinch. She only exhales, long and deep, as if waiting for something only Arlet can give.
“Very well done,” Theren says. “Come, I will show you the training area.”
Arlet reluctantly steps away, and then I fold her close to me again. I shouldn’t be doing that, not after the kiss, but she doesn’t fight me and I am on edge up here.
The trail narrows as we ascend, the air thinning with the climb. The city’s noise fades, replaced by the rhythmic sound of wind rushing through the cliffs. Theren sets Lorien down and the boy moves with ease, his small frame darting around jagged rocks.
Other elves pass us, calling out common greetings. We move at a slow pace compared to them, but at last, we arrive.
The path leads to a rocky outcrop, half-shielded by a crumbling wall of stone. Beyond it, a plateau stretches out like an open hand.
Arlet’s breath catches as she takes in the sight. Her neck tilts and she grins up at the clouded sky.
Five dragons—sleek, powerful creatures of varying sizes and colors—circle overhead. Their riders sit atop them with practiced ease, calling out commands in sharp, melodic elvish. The dragons respond in perfect harmony, banking left or right, climbing higher, then diving in breathtaking spirals.
Below, another group of riders stands in formation, their eyes skyward as they shout instructions to the airborne teams.
Lorien points upward. “I take lessons,” he proclaims.
Arlet looks at me for meaning.
“They are teaching him how to ride a dragon,” Theren says.
Her eyes go wide as stones. “Really? So young?”
Theren translates this time, and the boy puffs out his chest. “I’m going to be a Skyborne. Not like my father, who spends his time sitting on a chair.”
I translate for Arlet as she watches an emerald green dragon break from formation and dives toward the plateau. Its wings flare at the last second, stirring the loose gravel at the edge of the cliff.
The rider gestures toward the sky, and the dragon launches into the air once more, beating its wings with thunderous force.
Theren grins. “Now comes the fun. You’re own riding lesson.”
The blood drains from my face, but Arlet practically vibrates with excitement.
I let out a long breath. We would be riding one of these things to the Witch’s Isle anyway.
Better we learn now, surrounded by friendly faces.
“Excellent,” I say. “What should we do first?”
“We’ll get you suited. You’ll need a harness that will connect you to the riding saddle,” he gives an appraising look to Arlet, and I almost consider stepping in front of her.
Gods, I’m so on edge.
“Your wife will need new clothes. Enchanted leathers, so the scales will not cut into her skin,” he declares over the sound of wing beats.
