With the first stroke of the whip, Kazia’s magic opens within him, an endless, dizzying abyss. With the second stroke, Kazia cries out. He falls to his hands as his magic pours from him.
With the third, Kazia stops counting. He doesn’t know what Imrik will use the magic for. Beneath the white-hot pain, Kazia doesn’t have enough mind left to care.
?
CHAPTER TWO
Lucien
Wind whips the flames from Lucien’s gloved fingers, but the heat lingers in his touch. Hot enough for his silver and violet mount to feel the signal through her tough scales, not enough to harm her. The exercise in control would be easier if Lucien and Pranim were bonded—but if they were, Lucien wouldn’t need this signaling system.
Lucien slides a hand in front of the close-contact saddle. Sparks reflect in Pranim’s silvery dorsal scales.
Climb?Pranim asks in Lucien’s mind.
When Lucien repeats the gesture in confirmation, she surges beneath him. Massive wings thunder behind Lucien, and he clings close to the saddle. The scraggly northern border forest falls away, Lucien’s stomach dropping with it. Harness leather bites into his thighs and torso, reassuringly secure.
Pranim levels out before Lucien’s next signal. The sudden stop is as jarring as sudden motion.This is a good watching height. Or it would be, if there was anything to watch beyond the clouds.
Good to know. This is a mutual training flight, and Lucien is learning as much as Pranim, if not more. He peers past her shoulder, noting the diminutive size of the trees below. The precise weight of the air in his lungs.
The only sign of civilization is Fort Larsiay, more a dollhouse than a castle from this height. An entire army could be hiding in the dark weather across the border, but there probably aren’t more than a few scouts. Draskora’s forces are focused to the south, like the Silaisan forces.
Ten years ago, that’s where Lucien would have been. Instead, he and Pranim are far north, leagues away from the conflict.
Pranim is the newest of the Silaisan Skyguard’s six dragons—not counting the three dragons who didn’t want to join the Skyguard. Queen Margot wasn’tthrilledabout wild dragons nesting in the scalestone caverns, but there isn’t much anyone can do about it. Pranim crossed the border the week before Draskora declared what’s already being called the Winter War. She hasn’t bonded with anyone, but she was interested in Lucien’s experimental signaling technique.
So I can tell you things, and you can’t talk back?Pranim had asked. Her gleeful tone might have scared a less reckless man than Lucien.I am happy to help with this.
Teasing aside, Pranim has been a cooperative, steady mount. Not even half of Sarka’s attitude. Lucien’s starting to see how his first few flights were an unhinged trial by dragonfire.
No regrets. This is exactly what he’s always wanted.
Almost.
Lucien traces a fire-lit symbol along Pranim’s scales, then another.
Dive and roll?Pranim asks. The confirmation is important while they’re still figuring this out. Pranim doesn’t registerthe heat with precision, feeling the placement and direction of Lucien’s magic rather than recognizing the shapes.
Lucien repeats the gestures, and Pranim’s mental whoop is lost in her delighted roar. Together, they plummet with such exhilarating speed that Lucien almost forgets his resentment. How much he’d rather be on the front lines, roasting legions of Draskorans.
He’s spent the ten years since his first war planning how to win the next. Always assuming there would be a next, as long as a Dire bastard sat the scalestone throne. They’ve taken everything from Lucien before. Fuck if Lucien’s going to sit around and let them do it again.
Dragons were the missing piece of a comprehensive Silaisan defense, until the discovery of Silaisan scalestone three years ago. The dragons followed, and Lucien’s dream of a Silaisan Skyguard became reality. Queen Margot even gave Lucien command of it.
Nice of her. Except Lucien is hardly better than a figurehead. Placing a commoner at the helm makes the Skyguard more palatable to the other noble houses, compared to the other options. Rakos Tem, infamous Draskoran deserter. Bellamy Sandry, the Third Prince of Silaise, whose promotion would extend House Sandry’s power even further.
Lucien can’t even hate the pair of them. Rakos is decent for a Draskoran, and he and Bellamy are competent and cooperative. But the war brought certain truths to light: without a dragonbond, Lucien can’t fly the battlefield. His signaling method is useful for training, and he’s gotten good enough that he can fly recon patrols like this. But in actual combat, against enemy mages and dragonbonded riders, Lucien can’t compete.
Pranim twists through the dive. Momentum and the harness keep Lucien stuck to her back.
Now,Pranim warns, before pulling out of the dive.
Lucien’s thighs and shoulders ache from the rapid change. He doesn’t breathe again until Pranim levels out in an easy hover. Dragons don’t need the same sky conditions as birds—part of their maneuvering relies on their scalestone-fed magic.
Where next?Pranim asks.We’re patrolling, not just rolling, right? Ha, get it! Pat-rolling!
Through his laughter, Lucien signals for her to continue forward, northwards along the border. They’ll survey from Fort Larsiay to the North Army main camp, then return to Larsiay before nightfall.
