Page 128 of The Fifth Heir

“You’ll have to ask him when he has a human mouth.”

Rafe’s tail struck the grass once.

“He says because I’ve never flown.”

“He didn’t say anything.”

“I’m interpreting.”

“Poorly,” Leander called.

The wall blossoms brightened, their light reflecting across Rafe’s scales.

I approached.

His eye followed me, but he did not lift his head.

I placed one hand against his shoulder.

The scales were smoother than Stone and cooler than Fire, though faint electricity tingled beneath my palm. Rafe exhaled slowly.

“You will not do anything Leander prohibited,” I said.

The eye nearest me narrowed.

“Rafe.”

He lowered his head until his chin touched the grass.

I accepted that as agreement.

Sebastian showed me how to climb using the bent foreleg and the base of Rafe’s folded wing. Torren kept one hand close to my back without touching me.

I settled between the ridges above Rafe’s shoulders.

The position forced my legs wide around the base of his neck. Heat entered my face despite the cool scales beneath me.

The garden runes turned gold.

Rafe’s body moved with a quiet rumble that felt suspiciously like laughter.

“Don’t,” I said.

His wings shifted.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

The gold deepened.

Sebastian attached the safety line around the lowest neck ridge and tested it twice. Leander checked the buckle at my waist. Torren placed my hands around two smaller ridges.

“Keep your grip here,” he said. “Move with him rather than fighting every turn.”

“There will be no turns,” Leander said.

“There will be turns if he plans to return.”

“No sudden turns.”