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)
“Are you offering to carry one of them?” I ask, fighting off the sleep that has weighted my eyelids for the past three hours. The drastically warmer climate isn’t helping, either.
“I’m suggesting we continue onward with only riders and fliers.” The beats of his wings are slow, almost lazy in deference to the gryphons and Andarna, who unclasped from her harness an hour ago just in case we were spotted and escorted to the palace.
“As much as I would love that, he speaks for Navarre.” I reach for my flask, only to remember I emptied it a couple of hours ago.
“He will not matter when we find the irids. Only Andarna will.”
“Well, as soon as you make contact with them, I’m happy to ditch the prince. Until then, we’re stuck with the humans for clues.” I look right, catching glimpses of Andarna in the pulses between Tairn’s wingbeats. “You feeling tired?”
“Hungry,” she responds. “Kira says they have a plethora of goats, since the environment is not as suitable for the fleece of sheep. Perhaps they have superior food along with the superior weather.”
“We’re well aware you aren’t a fan of the snow.” I grin into the warm wind as Tairn approaches the expanse of Tecarus’s fighting pit instead of the grassy terrace he chose during our last visit.
“Perhaps you are like Sgaeyl’s kind,” Tairn notes. “They favor the warmer climate.”
That’s right. The hatching grounds of the blues used to be near here before the Great War.
Guards notice our arrival and rush to the highest terrace of the fighting pit as Tairn lands in the center of the field, snapping his wings closed while Andarna touches down less gracefully to his right.
Within moments, our five dragons and two gryphons cover every available foot of the field.
I detach one of my packs but hesitate to leave the second strapped to the back of the saddle.
“It is safer that I carry it,” Tairn reminds me, dipping his shoulder impatiently.
“It means you can’t detach the saddle.” I don’t want him uncomfortable.
“As if I would disparage my family name by being unprepared should the enemy—”
“Got it.” I undo my strap, then beg my body to comply as I climb out of the seat. Muscles, tendons, ligaments—they all creak and pop as I dismount, and my knees nearly buckle when I hit the ground.
I can’t help but shoot a glare at Cat as she springs up the stairs to meet the two waiting flier guards like she hasn’t been airborne twenty-four hours straight.
“Can I take mine off?” Andarna asks, swiveling her head to gnaw on the metal strap across her shoulder.
“No!” Tairn and I shout simultaneously.
“No,” Andarna mocks. “Fine. I seek sustenance.”
“You will wait until our welcome is assured,” Tairn orders, and Andarna huffs a breath of steam in his direction, then sits on her back legs and glowers. “Pick your tail up off the ground right now. Where do you think we are? The Vale?”
I adjust the straps of my pack over my summer-weight flight jacket and bite back a laugh when Andarna blasts a short stream of fire at Tairn’s back leg as she rises to all fours.
“I’m not dignifying that with a response,” he snarls.
Ahead of us, Sgaeyl springs into the air, and my brow furrows as Xaden watches her fly away, his features schooled in that carefully controlled mask he loves so well.
Aotrom, Teine, and Cath all stay put, but Kiralair launches along with Drake’s gryphon, Sovadunn.
“How are you feeling?” I ask once I reach Xaden, noting that Mira is already halfway up the steps of the arena, blade drawn.
“I should be asking you that.” He rolls his neck and drags his gaze from Sgaeyl’s retreating form to sweep over me, lingering on my hips and knees like he can see how sore they are. “Your body can’t be happy after that long in the saddle.”
“I’m…” I pause—we both do—as Halden climbs awkwardly out of the four-foot-tall basket Kira deposited in front of us. “I’m better off than whatever’s happening there.”
The prince curses when his pack catches on the thick weave of the carrier as he exits, the fabric holding him prisoner. Instead of lifting the bag over the barrier, Halden wrenches it free, tearing the strap clean off.
“Clearly it was common sense that attracted you to the heir.” Sarcasm drips from Tairn’s tone.
“I was eighteen and he was handsome. Give me a break.” I wince, noting that Halden doesn’t exactly rush off to help Captain Winshire, the redheaded guard, out of her basket.
“Kingdom seems to be in good hands with that one.” Xaden glances at the drained stones that surround the pit as we walk toward the others waiting ahead. “Think anyone will notice if I sleep out here on these stones until we’re ready to go?”
“Yes.” My voice quiets as we approach Dain and Ridoc, both of whom stare awkwardly as the captain refuses any offers of help and stumbles all five feet ten inches of herself out of her basket to Halden’s left, then strides up the steps after him in speedy annoyance. “But I’ll sleep out here with you if you want. If it’s what you need.” I’ll do whatever it takes to lessen his risk.