Rakos concentrates in between traps, mentally calling out to Sarka. She doesn’t answer, asleep or out of range.
Halfway up, they pause to rest. Rakos pulls Bell beneath another outcropping, and they sink to the ground to huddle together. The night is cold, and while Rakos trusts Bell to tell him if it’s too much, he still wants to keep Bell warm.
His heart twists. This may be his last chance to take care of Bell, and Rakos hates that fact more and more with every step.
“How are you feeling?” Bell hooks his legs over Rakos, cuddling closer. “We’re almost there.”
Rakos has no idea how he’s feeling.
Get Sarka back. That’s been his goal. The only goal he allowed himself. He didn’t want revenge. He didn’t want redemption. He just wanted his dragon.
But nothing is ever that simple. Rakos wanted a dragon when he was sixteen, too, and three years later, that dream of flight threw him into a war he wasn’t prepared for. Now, Rakos is once again unprepared. Bell and Irenka are both right. How is he supposed to just run off with a dragon?
Scalestone is the biggest problem. Rakos will have about ten years to procure a source outside Draskora before the lack of it impacts Sarka’s flight. Will Sarka even want to come with him? She’s never much liked other dragons, but does she dislike them enough to abandon her entire flock?
She’ll help him drop Bell off, no matter what. Rakos knows her well enough to be certain of that—she enjoys the thrill of border runs. She’ll love this. But that’s another problem.
Every fiber of Rakos’s being rebels at the thought of leaving Bell. So much so that he tightens his grip on Bell and says, “Hey, Bell. I’ve been thinking.”
“Should I be worried?”
Rakos nuzzles his hair. “When did you get so sarcastic?”
“I’m the youngest of three brothers. I’ve always been sarcastic.”
“I’d love to meet your family,” Rakos says. It’s true. He loves every part of Bell, and he’d love to meet the people who’ve helped shape him. An entire family of minstrels, at least one of them successful enough to earn royal patronage. Rakos would just have to be careful to meet them outside of Greenhaven.
“I’m not sure you would. But it would certainly be interesting.” Bell twists around in Rakos’s arms and pokes him in the chest. “You said you were thinking.”
Rakos isn’t sure why he’s so nervous about this. He’s never been nervous about anything except for Bell. This beautiful, fragile man he’s obsessed with. Who accepted his true identity with shocking ease. Who forgave him for Orthin. Who lights up in awe at every new place they visit, curious and bold despite his frailty. Rakos has said this entire time that he trusts Bell. He should trust him again.
“I don’t want to leave you after this,” Rakos says.
Bell freezes in his arms. For one heart-stopping moment, Rakos thinks he’s made a mistake—until Bell melts into him and murmurs, “I don’t want to leave you either. But it’s not that simple.”
“We can make it simple. I’ll send word so you can visit me. Or I can sneak into Silaise to visit you. We can meet anywhere, anytime.” Rakos takes Bell’s hand in his. “Or you could come with me.”
Bell makes a small, choked sound, halfway between a laugh and a sob. He slides into Rakos’s lap and rests both hands on his face. Pulls him in, so their foreheads press together.
“I wish you were right.” Bell sounds fragile. Wistful.
“We’ve come this far,” Rakos says. “We tore down a bloodmasque. You fought two dozen drasgard with me. We crossed the Friendly Forest, and it wasn’t even hard. Surely we can do this too. Surely it doesn’t have to end now.”
Instead of answering, Bell kisses him. Sweet and dry, it tastes like farewell.
“I’d love that. You have no idea how much I’d love that.” Bell kisses Rakos again. “Please, don’t make this harder on me.”
Rakos takes a ragged breath. Hugs Bell close to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, then rises to his feet, pulling Bell with him. “Let’s go.”
As they ascend, the stairs become rougher and more difficult to navigate. Fewer enchanted traps, but more fissures in the steps. More patches of loose gravel. Bell slows down ahead of Rakos, and Rakos keeps a hand constantly behind Bell’s back, ready to support him.
Rakos forces back his growing despair and anticipation alike. He can’t afford distraction as he listens for wingbeats. The sky is empty and clear, but the jagged cliffs and towers obscure enough sightlines to keep him cautious.
“Hey.” Bell slows his steps. He looks hesitant when he glances over his shoulder. “You know I don’t want this to be over either, right? But there’s something I should tell you.”
Rakos’s heart clenches. “Tell me.”
Bell’s foot slips on a patch of loose gravel, and his next word is lost in a muffled yelp. Rakos catches him as he stumbles down, easily supporting him. Bell throws out a hand to catch himself against the rocky wall.
