Page 154

Keeping her gaze forward, Alora couldn’t stop herself from wandering back to the flight, the Ravens … and what happened in the inn.

A gentle caress against the walls of her mind tingled. And she debated a moment, wondering if she should let him in—but did so anyway.

I am sorry for the way I spoke to you in the hallway. I spoke out of anger and… Garrik’s voice, almost hoarse—almost choked—heavily sighed.I was worried, Alora. I should not have left you alone.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek.It’s okay?—

No, it is not. And you do not have to forgive me. I just … wanted you to know how truly sorry I am.

That caress lifted, and she suddenly felt empty.

Hours later, Garrik was still affected by it—it manifested through his taut shoulders. Appearing tense, he was quiet as usual, with only the soothing voice of Thalon corresponding with him. His own voice hadn’t spoken in hours. Simply watching. Listening. Few times she caught his chin lifting. As if he followed the sun’s position or watched a cloud drift across the sky. His gaze would linger there as Thalon spoke, absentmindedly stroking Ghost’s mane.

At one point, Thalon drew back, allowing Garrik to ride without interruption, and found himself riding beside her with a gleam in his golden eyes and a foolish, beaming, faeling grin.

“You went flying.” Even his voice was playful.

Alora gazed at him, attempting to adjust to seeing him adorned in Dragon’s armor and red cloak. Despite his faeling excitement, Thalon, in fact, appeared more deadly than most in their leathers. Even so, she tore her thoughts away and shrugged as if her soaring in the skies, near the stars, wasn’t anything more than brushing her hair. “I wasn’t flying.”

Thalon’s grin widened. “Was it your first time in the sky?”

That terror … the trembling hands and draining blood from her veins when the ground fell from beneath them … Garrik’s arms wrapped around her while tears burned her eyes … it flooded back.

Alora gripped the reins tighter, forcing a swallow. “Yes.”

Golden eyes were entirely awestruck before they closed. Thalon’s chest rose with a deep breath, and he smiled. Smiled like he was wholly sated, basking in a sunlight that warmed him to the bones as if he were made to enjoy its company.

Like he was kissed by the sky.

Then, those golden eyes opened, entirely glowing in a magnificence she didn’t often glimpse. “It was absolutely wonderful, wasn’t it? Flying with Garrik.” His shoulders rose in another satisfied breath, utterly speechless as his eyes glanced up at the sky.

“I can’t imagine it being any sort of pleasure flying with the High Prince.” That was a lie, but it didn’t mean Thalon needed to know it.

Thalon barked a laugh. Rubbing his hand through his locks until his Earned clacked together, he turned back to her. “Next time, ask Garrik for Smokeshadow wings of your own. He enjoys flying with company.”

She shook her head. “Right. So I can leap off a cliff and plummet to my death? Why trouble attempting to run me through in the arena when you can be rid of me that way?” Straightening her spine, she adjusted her seat in the saddle.

“Garrik was trained by…” Golden eyes shifted to Garrik then back to her like he was searching for words. “The general of the Wingborne. Garrik would train you too if you asked him.”

Training with the High Prince? “Now you really are trying to have me killed. Tell me, have you ever flown with him?”

Thalon opened his mouth to speak, but an ear-piercing shriek filled the air.

A pitch-black storm turned the peaceful sky into something menacing and treacherous. Crimson lightning surged from a portal high above them. An unusually large, half-skeleton raven bearing inked, dagger-like feathers burst from it before it imploded behind. Its lethal talons were outstretched and blood-red eyes glowed in the swarm of magic cascading from its wings and body.

The creature lunged down, straight for Garrik.

Static energy thrummed through Alora, through every Dragon, encompassing them all in Garrik’s shield.

Thrashing its massive wings, the raven hovered feet in front of Garrik and released an ear-piercing shriek again. Its wingspan mirrored the size of a horse; its wings splayed out to complete the aggressive display.

Garrik’s face hardened into something brutal and all-consuming, wholly menacing as he controlled Ghost’s stomping halt. “What do you want, Nevilier?” Growling as his eyes faded to oblivion.

The raven screeched, revealing its serpentine tongue, and lurched forward, causing Ghost to rear up in an effort to kick the flying beast.

Garrik, seemingly unfazed, calmed Ghost and returned to a halt, his army deathly still around him.

“Hewants an update,” Nevilier hissed, eyes glowing crimson as tendrils of blackened magic swirled around its wings and body.