I pause. “I’m taking Nity.”
A blue Feyling light hits and exaggerates the furrow in James’s brow. “How are you going to take—?”
“I’m going to ride her,” I finish. I unbuckle the straps of my heels, remove James’s copper shawl, and push down the anguish tightening in my chest. Then I head toward the massive Rimback.
“Farren,” James warns. “Farren!”
I turn. “There’s no other way. She’ll need someone to shield her.”
“Hey, girl,” I say in the calmest voice I can muster. She swivels on me, agitation spiking her scales like I’ve never seen before. Her tail streaks in an angry whip. She’s formidable. A predator. Right now, I need her to trust me.
I raise a soft palm. “I’m going to get you and your hatchlings out of here. I’m going to protect you, okay?” Her reptilian amber eyes streak with predatory violence. All she knows is I caged her in. She doesn’t understand what may await her. I choke on the thought, on what stands outside my dented golden wall. Tears stream down my face without warning. “You just have to let me. Please, Nity. Please, let me get you out of here and to safety.”
For what feels like a lifetime we stare each other down. “Please, my girl.”
I gasp in relief when her head nudges my palm.Yes, she’s saying.Yes. Then she swivels to point at her babies tucked in the tunnels. “Them too. All of us are making it out.”
She huffs in answer, acceptance. Before I lose my nerve, I climb Nity’s front leg to her back. Then I craft more gold toward me. The metal yieldsto my control easier than ever before, and I know it has to do with Nity, her trust. A true dragon bond sliding into place. She’s allowing me full access to her power. Gold wraps around my forearms and works its way upward into shiny sleeves and a shelled corset around my torso. I might be wearing the first golden armor in centuries, and it feels… right.
I always wondered if riding Nity was possible. With her spikes the notion felt out of the question. But with her gold coating her the rises and ridges are smoothed just enough to find a seat. Instead of riding her like a Sprinter where my legs hang off the sides, they just tuck and rest against the large expanse of her back.
“I’m going to get us all out of here,” I say. To James. To Nity. To myself even.
James stares at me with an open mouth. “You look good up there,” he says, soft in a whisper. He pauses as if to say more, probably protest my plan. Instead, he nods and jumps onto Hort bareback. One more nod of readiness, and I craft.
I mold the shield into the head of an icebreaker, shaping the wall into a sharp V. Then, with a scream and every crafting muscle I own I cleave our way through the cave to force our exit.
“You don’t want to do—” the lead poacher yells before his voice is swallowed in my onslaught of metal grinding against stone.
The men shout and jump to the side in order to not be run through. Others sprint toward the entrance, diving into the ocean’s rush to avoid being smashed by my wall. As I allow the gold wall to fall at the entrance of the cave, we greet light and air and a salty tang of freedom. Nity leaps into the sky, wanting escape and those men away from her babies as much as I do.
It takes a moment with my weighted-down fear to realize we are airborne. I’m flying Nity, actually flying with her as she beats the air with her wings. My hair lifts off my shoulders and blows behind me. Wind, always bad while riding, smashes against me as Nity’s power surges.
The sun is a sliver against the water, minutes away from vanishing and leaving us in darkness.
I rise through the air like I can chase the last rays of light, like they are my salvation. Because without them I’m not sure I can defend Nity, detect every poacher. As I turn, I spot nine saddled dragons chasing me.Nine.Which means James only has one poacher after him and the hatchlings. And I’m facing nine men ready to kill me.
I face forward again and urge Nity onward. Onward and upward and away from this nightmare.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVENWHEN YOU CAN’T JUST WATCH
JAMES
Poachers climb out of the crashing waves in curses and insults. On the rocks and beach saddled Sprinters wait for their riders.
“Damn brat.” The leader, who taunted us, hauls himself out of the water.
“We can’t find Denvers,” another man yells.
An unmoving body lays among the gold Farren dropped at the cavern entrance. My insides turn. He wasn’t fast enough. Then something even sicker intrudes on my thoughts. One less threat.
The leader ditches his mask and bright blond hair snags my attention. I knew that voice sounded familiar. Art Whimbley, lead scaler for my father. He watched as my father broke my arm. Didn’t shout, didn’t object, but smiled as my bones snapped.
“Denvers knew the risks. Now go! Get her,” Art commands his fellow drenched men. I wonder how many more I know, how many I’ve worked beside? Nausea turns my stomach. The descaling team have always scared me. You don’t go into the profession unless you don’t mind pain, seeing it, inflicting it.
In all the chaos I’m forgotten. But also, Farren might be right. They don’t know about the hatchlings. All three are still back in the tunnels, hidden in stone and darkness. Well trained by our hide-and-seek games, I know they won’t be coming out for a long time. I slide off Hort. Maybe I can stop all this.
As the men leap onto their dragons and Art wrenches his mask back on, I call out, “Don’t move.”
