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Rhea

A s we fly back toward Sky’s Edge, I stand numbly atop Zephyros’s head. He sends soothing waves through our connection. They ease my distress somewhat, though not entirely.

—I am sorry I did not see that, he says. You kept it well hidden, amongst other things I cannot reach.

He prods gently at that dark corner of my mind. I shake myself and push him away. I feel prickly, defensive. He can’t go there. I can’t go there.

—Stay out! I order.

Without asking or prodding further, he hums and soothes me. I relax, shoulders slumping.

—I’m tired , I say.

—I know. You will sleep soon. We are almost there.

Lost in my own thoughts and emotions as I am, the trip back feels short. When we alight next to the lagoon, I slide down Zephyros’s leg and land in a crouch. Gaze lost in the horizon, I undress, put my leathers back in the satchel, and jump in. I swim back, protected by Zephyros’s air bubble, satchel trailing behind me as I clutch its strap in one hand. I’m still unnerved by the utter darkness as I make my way through the tunnel, but at least, I’m short of terrified. That trust Zephyros keeps demanding isn’t so hard to muster now that he’s offered me so much proof of his various powers.

When I see light ahead, I kick faster, looking forward to setting my head on my pillow, resting my weary body, and forgetting about tonight.

As soon as I exit the tunnel, I push off the pool’s bottom and break the surface.

“What the fuck?!” someone exclaims.

Shit. Water sluices down my face. I paw at my eyes, pushing the plastered hair strands away.

Vaylen stares at me in shock. He’s in the pool, chest bare, wet hair limp atop his forehead.

Dear Heratrix! What now?!

“I… I…” I don’t know what to say. How long has he been here? Does he know about the tunnel?

“What were you…? How could you…?”

He’s clearly confused and can’t formulate a question, which answers one of mine. He’s been here long enough to wonder how I was able to hold my breath all that time.

Dammit! I’m doomed.

—Do not panic, Zephyros says. He does not know about the tunnel. At least, I do not think so. Tell him you were practicing building an air bubble to help you stay underwater.

—Um, he knows about that?

—I do not think so, but what else can you say… that you are secretly a tadpole?

—Ha ha. Very funny. And where, pray tell, do I say I got the idea to practice such a thing?

—You can come up with something, I’m sure. I cannot do everything for you .

He blocks our connection.

—Hey! Hey! Come back!

Nothing.

—Asshole! You’re an asshole dragon.

Still nothing. He really cut me off.

“How long have you been down there?” Vaylen demands. “And how long can you hold your breath? I’ve been here for at least five minutes?”

“I… I was practicing. Um, you know… the bubble thing.”

He looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “The bubble thing?”

His blue eyes scrutinize me with unfettered suspicion.

Goddess, I’m going to ruin everything. Calm down, Rhea. I take a deep breath and move toward the edge of the pool. Nonchalantly, I put an elbow on the edge and attempt to look unbothered.

“Yes, don’t you know how?” I ask.

His perfect dark eyebrows draw down as he frowns. Water droplets run down his high cheekbones, over his sharp, stubbled jaw, and onto his massive chest. For the first time, I allow myself a good look and have to bite the inside of my cheek so as not to let out a sigh. The man’s chest is everything I imagined it would be. Broad, chiseled to perfection, and perfectly smooth.

What’s more… a masterful tattoo spreads from his sternum unfurling toward his rounded shoulders in both directions. Dragon wings, ribbed and spiked at the top edges, sprouting from his heart. The shading is utter artistry. I have the sudden urge to trace the lines with my finger.

I look down at my fingernails before I start to salivate. Surreptitiously, I glance back. It seems he didn’t notice my lapse. He’s too worried about the bubble thing and my appearance act to notice anything else.

“Explain yourself, Skysinger!” he demands.

“You don’t know.” I feign surprise. “Well, I just make an air bubble around my face, and then I can breathe underwater.”

He shakes his head, appearing more confused than before. So he really doesn’t know about this particular skill.

Something occurs to me and my panic rises.

—Zephyros! Zephyros! Get back here.

No response.

Dammit! What if Vaylen asks me to show him the stupid bubble? I don’t know how to do it. So much for trust. Zephyros just abandoned me. I thought he’d saved me from being court martialed and imprisoned, but that was too good to be true.

“That…” he begins hesitantly, “isn’t a Skysinger skill I’ve ever heard of.”

“Oh.” I don’t have to try hard to express confusion.

“How did you figure out that it could be done?”

My mind races to come up with an explanation, and an idea begins to take shape. Good thing I have practice lying. I made up many stories for my father and other adults when I was a disobedient teenager, roaming free about Emberton, doing things I wasn’t supposed to, and getting into trouble.

“Well,” I begin, “the other day when Silas punched me.” I pause and carefully watch Vaylen’s expression.

“Go on.”

“When I went under water, I felt like I was drowning. I think instinct kicked in, and my bond to Zephyros flashed. Suddenly, I had this idea, and I let it take over. I felt a change around my face, but they started to pull me out before I could figure out what it was—not to mention I passed out. Ever since, the idea has been bothering me. I wanted to try it, so I came here.”

This is a plausible explanation. Right? Right?! I watch him. Slowly, the frown on his forehead eases, and the light in his eyes seems to change.

“And you were able to do it,” he says, likely remembering how I popped out of the water seemingly out of nowhere.

I nod, but keep my lips sealed. No need to oversell this.

His eyes rove around the pool for a moment, then he says, “Show me.”

By the Seven Hells, I am doomed.