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)
Dragon killers.
For once, Andarna doesn’t argue.
“Given this is an isle dedicated to peace, they’re certainly prepared for war.” My stomach tenses. It’s been centuries since any Navarrian has stepped foot on this isle, and if we’ve overestimated the viscount’s sway with the king, there’s every chance those cross-bolts will head in our direction.
We fly between the beach and a barrier island, where the water is a breathtaking shade of blue I’ve never seen, and I can’t help but stare, trying to commit it to memory as we slowly descend to a hundred, then fifty feet above the ground. Reading about this place has in no way truly prepared me to see it.
Despite the exhaustion, I don’t want to so much as blink for fear of missing a single thing. Although after flying all night, I’m more than prepared to modify this saddle even more for sleeping when we get back to Basgiath.
“According to the map you were given, the estate ahead belongs to Tecarus,” Tairn says as we pass by a grouping of elegant manors on the mainland, each with its own dock and a ship that announces its owner’s status and wealth. Tairn shifts his shoulders, and the click of the harness sounds a second before Andarna appears off his right wing, hers beating double-time to keep up.
A group of creatures darts beneath us in the water, jumping into the air in a series of graceful leaps that almost make up for the flurry of people yelling and running back into their homes as we fly over.
“I wonder what they taste—” Andarna starts.
“No.” My protest catches me by surprise. “They’re dolphinum, and they’re just too pretty to be your snack.” Even prettier than the drawings I’ve seen.
“You’re going soft.” Andarna snorts.
We touch down in the sand in front of a sprawling two-story manor that reminds me of a smaller version of Tecarus’s palace in Cordyn. Its tall white pillars leave a portion of the structure open to the ocean breeze, but the thick stone walls that surround the rest tell me it’s weathered storms here, too. Palm trees—tall, wispy things with broad leaves of the same muted, pale green adorning their tops—line a path to the house, and I check to make sure that’s indeed the standard of Cordyn flying on a docked ship before I dismount, taking the extra pack we’ve kept with Tairn until now.
The sand is so fine I can’t help but drop down and run my fingers through it with a smile. It’s nothing like the rocky texture along the river at Basgiath or the coarse, grainy beach of Cordyn. This makes me want to strip my boots off and walk barefoot.
Andarna lifts her claw and shakes it beside me, sending grains of sand flying in a cloud as the others land in a flurry of activity around us. “It’s going to get between my scales.”
“And now you understand why I didn’t let you eat that tortoise,” Tairn mutters, his head perpetually swiveling, taking in our surroundings. “We’ll need to hunt before we fly back. And we’re no longer alone.”
A middle-aged man stands in the doorway of Tecarus’s manor, his short-sleeved, belted white tunic and matching pants contrasting his brown skin as his arms tremble, his mouth hanging open while he stares at Tairn and Andarna.
“I’ll figure out where to do that without causing a war.” I stand up as Ridoc stomps forward, then startle when Aotrom roars.
The Deverelli man screams and runs back into the house.
“Great first impression,” I mutter, brushing the sand off my palm.
Andarna snorts, then prances off toward the water, her wings tucked in tight.
“Do not go any deeper than your claws!” Tairn lectures, his tail nearly taking out a tree when he pivots to watch her go. “I swear, if you get in over your head, I’ll let you drown.”
Aotrom roars again, getting everyone’s attention, including Tairn’s.
“I don’t know what you’re saying!” Ridoc turns toward Aotrom.
The Brown Swordtail opens his mouth and roars louder, blowing back Ridoc’s dark-brown hair and covering my friend in a layer of goopy saliva.
Gross.
Ridoc slowly lifts his hands and scrapes the slime off his face. “Yelling at me doesn’t help. It’s like shouting in a language I don’t speak.”
A vise of foreboding clamps down on my chest, and my gaze swings toward Tairn, then past him to where Sgaeyl and Teine survey our surroundings restlessly. Mira walks our way, rubbing the back of her neck, but Xaden stands at the edge of the water, facing away from the estate.
“I think it’s just us,” I say to Tairn, spinning slowly to take it all in.
“Just us how?” he asks.
Kira rakes her claws through the sand, and Cat is on her knees next to her, holding her face in her hands while Drake kneels at her side. Sova, his gryphon, shakes his silver head back and forth like he’s trying to clear it. Cath guards the west point of the property, his tail flicking in agitation, and Dain looks down as he walks our way.