Page 104 of Destined Dawn

I consider him. “Renzo,” I ask, “do you have a problem with ears?”

“No,” he snaps far too quickly.

“Then you’ll let me touch your other ear?” I lift my hand to his uninjured ear and immediately he ducks his head to one side.

“Don’t touch my ears.”

“Why not?”

He stares at me. I stare right back. He relents, leaning in close and whispering so quietly I can barely hear him.

“Ears are like a thing.”

“A thing?” I prompt.

His voice drops even quieter. “You won’t tell anyone?”

“Cross my heart,” I promise.

He swallows. “Ears are my weakness.”

I blink and try not to giggle. I can’t help it though. After everything that’s passed over the last few hours – all that tension, nearly having my magic drained by a roomful of vampires – I can’t help a little snort of laughter bubbling out of my mouth.

“It’s not funny,” he says.

I school my face. “No, totally not funny.” Although it totally is. This man who’s tortured others, who, I am in no doubt, has been tortured himself. Who willingly walks into the dueling ring one on one with some of the fiercest fighters in the republic, doesn’t like having his ears touched.

“They’re … sensitive.”

“I agree.” I press my fingers to his abdomen. “But it needs fixing, little fox.”

“Little fox?” he says, frowning.

“Big fox,” I correct, making his lips twitch. “I promise I’ll be gentle.” He eyes me warily. “I thought we trusted each other …”

“Fine,” he says. I reach my hand out and again he catches my wrist. “Gentle.”

I can’t help smiling. All this love of pain and hurt but when it comes to the man’s ears …

“Pinky promise.” I wiggle my little finger at him.

He nods and lets go of my wrist. As gently as I can – which is pretty damn difficult considering I’m riding a dragon, am facing the wrong way around and have Pip wedged between us – I touch the tip of my forefinger to his earlobe. He flinches, then steels himself.

“Okay?” I ask.

“Yes,” he answers grumpily.

I track my finger carefully up his ear to the place where it’s ripped in two. Then I concentrate my magic on gluing the two halves back together. It’s both harder and easier than the healing I’ve done before. Harder because that dark magic is still there, pulsating through my body with no interest in healing, dominating my other magic. And easier, because my magic is definitely stronger since sealing the bond with Spencer – much stronger.

Somehow though, despite the way the dragon buffets us about and despite Renzo’s frequent whining, I manage to seal the ear together and to my relief it looks as good as new.

“Done,” I say and Renzo lets out a great big exhale of air. “Sure, you don’t want me to do the wound on your throat?” He tsks at me. I glance at the wound. The blood is clotting and it’s stopped bleeding. “It’s definitely going to scar.”

“A reminder of the day little rabbit was a fucking boss.” He grins at me and I shake my head and concentrate forward. We’re near the border now.

“Best we avoid the barracks,” Azlan calls out to me, pointing out towards the north. The dragons swerve us that way and then east and soon we’re flying over wasteland puckered with craters, nothing but scrubland. Spencer mutters that usually there’d be the odd soldier patrolling this area, monitoring the razor-wire fence. But we encounter no one, no soldiers on either side and I wonder if we’re so high in the sky we’ve passed unnoticed.

The sky continues to lighten around us, the late winter sun hanging low near the horizon. We fly over the rundown towns we drifted between when I was younger, the mountains far away in the distance, their ragged tops the first sign the snow may be retreating, making way for spring on their steep slopes. We fly over forests, single-lane roads slicing the trees in half, empty of vehicles, bigger towns beginning to appear. We fly over factories chugging smoke into the air, lakes that glimmer like mirrors, great fields sown ready for the next year. We fly over prairie land with its tall grasses and roaming cattle. We fly over rivers racing towards the coast.