Soren was breathless as she said aloud, “Do you know anything?”
Thessa huffed, the warm air from her nostrils hitting Soren in the face.No more than you. You need to prepare for flight.
“If I decide to take his offer,” Soren muttered, sitting heavily next to her.
You will. You want to live, and his threat is not empty.
“I know.”
Vane had disappeared without a word by the time she returned to camp. As she craned her neck, searching for him through the throng of wary soldiers, Commander Eton said from behind, “Evva is gone. It’s time for you to depart.”
She whirled. “Gone?”
“Yes. He was sent on a mission for the crown.”
“Where?”
The Commander narrowed his eyes. “Careful, Mise. It is unwise to reveal too many of your emotions to your enemy.”
“And is that you?”
He raised a brow. “That is up to you. The king awaits with your dragon to send you off.”
The words were an added threat—King Johannas was with Thessa, and her dragon was right: Soren did not want to die, not yet.
She hurried past a grim-faced Commander Eton and jogged back to the dragon field, dressed in leather riding gear, equipped with extra straps to stay secure, as well as several holsters for daggers she still did not know how to use. Her boots hit just above her knees, also secured.
King Johannas smiled when he saw her approach, but his next words stung a long-open wound.
“If you complete this mission successfully, I’ll allow them to remove the shackle hiding under your boots.”
She wanted to spit at his feet but instead bowed her head slightly, playing the part he wanted. “Yes, my king.”
“Good. And Sora, dear, when you arrive, do not hesitate. He will be ready for you, as will the others.”
He strode to the edge of the field to watch her go, and it was not until she was on Thessa’s back and about to take to the air that she realized what he had just called her, what he had promised.
Her stomach dropped as Thessa lifted off the ground, her enormous wings flapping on either side of Soren, cold currents disturbing her hair. The king knew who she was, and not only that—someone waited for her at the border, to lead the battle.
It had to beMòr Maslach.
Perhaps finally, she would learn who he was. After all, he had been the one to save her when she had fallen from Thessa, her dead sister’s dagger in her belly. Perhaps she could return the favor by shoving a dagger in him too.
The journey to the border wasn’t a particularly long one, and as time crawled by and the landscape below began to change, she wished for more. It was obvious they were nearing Misean territory. The temperature rose slightly, even at their elevation, and below, more and more green began to dot the landscape. She even thought she saw a tiny farm.
Wheat brushed against her palm as she walked away.
“I can’t leave you to him again.”
She turned, finding his beautiful face full of anguish. Her smile was sad. “This is what you get for loving a god.”
Pain.
Powerlessness.
Ruin.
Shouts rang out, and Thessa rumbled beneath her.We’re nearly there.
