Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Sliseag lifts his head over us and breathes out a huff of steam that I’m going to have to wipe off my goggles.
Ugh. It’s too early to be sticky.
“I wasn’t talking about you,” Sawyer argues. “It’s not like we haven’t discussed the scale pattern, and you don’t have to—”
Sliseag steams us again, the heat stinging my face. If he gets it any hotter, he’s going to blister my skin.
Tairn stalks forward and tilts his head at Sliseag in a way I never want to see aimed at me, and Andarna is quick to follow.
“Because I don’t want you to have to!” Sawyer shouts up at Sliseag, who narrows his eyes.
This would be a really ridiculous way to die.
“He wouldn’t dare,” Tairn warns.
“Just let me try it,” Sawyer argues.
Sliseag bares his teeth.
Sawyer bares his right back.
“I will never understand the relationships other riders have with their dragons,” I say down the bond. I barely understand my own, but giving Andarna a wide berth seems to be working, since she’s here. Not that she could stay behind for the length of our rotation, but I’m declaring it a victory.
“You’re not supposed to,” Tairn remarks.
“Here we go.” Sawyer rolls his shoulders, then runs toward Sliseag’s claw.
He makes it two steps before the tip of his boot catches in the mud and he falls forward.
Shit. I lunge for his pack and grab hold with both hands, yanking Sawyer upright before he yucks a set of flight leathers. My shoulders both pop, but the joints have the decency not to subluxate on me.
“Thanks,” Sawyer mutters, staring at the boot. “See?”
“I do.” I crouch to peer at the device. “Can you kick the lever open?”
“In theory,” he answers. “But it’s probably a little small for that, and I don’t have time to make changes before movement today.”
“Well, let’s try it as it is. You can modify in Aretia. None of us want you to stay behind.” Mud squishes under my boots as I stand. “You can run, right?”
Sawyer nods. “I wouldn’t try this if I couldn’t. My gait is off because I can’t quite get the flex right, and I’m just not nimble enough to run the full length of his leg like I used to.”
“We can work with that.” I nod. “How about you run just like you’d mount before, and right when you feel your momentum shift, like you’re about to fall back, kick the lever open. It should catch your foot just like you designed it to, and you climb the rest of the way.”
Sawyer looks down at me. “That’s how you did the Gauntlet, isn’t it?”
“Kind of. I waited until I felt my weight shift backward, then stabbed a dagger into the wood and pulled myself up. But I somehow doubt Sliseag would be appreciative of that approach.” A corner of my mouth lifts.
Sliseag huffs another breath—this time without steam—as if in agreement.
“I’ll give it a shot.” Sawyer pops the lever closed, then nods to himself. “Here we go.” He takes off running, and Sliseag flexes his talons, flattening his claw. Sawyer’s long legs eat up the first half dozen feet of the climb, and I hold my breath when his progress stalls.
He kicks the lever, then clings to Sliseag’s leg about halfway up, his foot scraping the scales for a place to grip for a heart-stopping second before it catches.
“You’ve got it!” I shout. “Climb!”
His left boot holds steady, working as he’d designed, but his right slips, leaving a streak of mud down Sliseag’s red scales.
My chest clenches as he tries again, then again, with the same result.
“Fuck!” he yells, then lays his forehead against Sliseag’s leg.
“I can flatten the tip of my tail and boost him,” Andarna offers, having crept closer.
Now my ribs tighten for a whole different reason. It’s the first positive thing she’s said since our return.
“That’s an honorable offer,” I tell her, then repeat it to Sawyer.
“No!” he shouts. “Thank you, but no.”
Sliseag rumbles low in his chest, and I stand there helplessly, knowing there’s nothing I can do.
“Because it’s not the same,” Sawyer argues, frustration rumbling through his tone and I know he isn’t talking to me. “You’re the one who took a risk on me, and I won’t ask you to dishonor…” He falls quiet.
“Is that how you feel when you dip your shoulder for me?” I ask Tairn. “Dishonored?”
“I am the second-largest dragon on the Continent and a revered warrior. My tales are legendary. My mate unparalleled. My feats unmatched—”
“Doesn’t change my question.” I cut him off before he starts to list his accolades.
“It would take a great deal more than a change of posture to dishonor me,” he replies.
“But you never had to lower yourself before me, did you? Not for Naolin, or—”
“We do not speak of the one who came before.” Agonizing pain floods the bond, and I immediately regret my choice of words.