Total pages in book: 295
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
“But you”—Varrish points at me—“answer to me!”
“Does she?” Tairn lunges forward, bypassing Varrish entirely and surging toward Solas with an ear-shattering roar, his morningstar tail lashing the air above me. Solas whips his head toward the ground to guard his most vulnerable area—his neck—but Tairn is faster, bigger, and far stronger. He’s already there, his enormous jaw locked around Solas’s throat.
I gasp as Tairn’s massive fangs sink between the joints of Solas’s scales, piercing his neck, and Kaori sprints to get out of the battleground.
Varrish turns and stiffens as crimson rivulets run over Solas’s orange neck scales, dripping off several of the ridges.
“Tairn…” What will the Empyrean do to him if he kills Solas?
“Only a rider can be the vice commandant of Basgiath,” Tairn warns, and Solas lets out a sound that’s half roar, half shriek. “Without a dragon, you are no rider.”
Oh gods. My heart lurches, the beat rushing to a gallop.
“Fine!” Varrish shouts, his fists balled at his side. “She will not pay a price for her dragon’s refusal to attend.”
“Not good enough.” Tairn’s teeth reach the edges of Solas’s scales as I watch in slack-jawed horror. “This is about you.”
Solas half roars, causing his blood to pour even faster down his exposed neck as he whips his tail toward Tairn, but he’s half Tairn’s size and has no hope of making contact, thank Dunne.
“All right!” Varrish staggers forward, and for a second, I feel sorry for him. “All right,” he repeats, putting his hands up. “Humans have no authority to summon dragons.”
Rhiannon sidesteps until her arm brushes my shoulder, and Feirge lowers her head, as do Aotrom and Sliseag. Hell, every dragon I can see in my peripherals takes the same stance.
“Apologize,” Tairn demands, his voice low and sharp.
“I’m sorry!” Varrish’s voice breaks.
“Apologize to the one Andarna deemed worthy of her bond.”
I try to swallow, but my mouth has gone dry.
“Did he really just…” Rhiannon whispers.
“I think so.” I nod. “His apology isn’t necessary to me, Tairn. Really. I’m happy to just not die today.”
“It is necessary to me, Silver One.” His voice rumbles in my head. “I speak for Andarna while she is in the Dreamless Sleep.”
Varrish pivots toward me, hatred and terror filling his gaze. “I am…sorry. It is not in my authority to summon any dragon.”
“On your knees.”
Rhiannon sucks in a breath, and Varrish hits his knees. “You have my most sincere apology—you and your dragon. Both of your dragons.”
“I accept.” My gaze darts frantically to Tairn’s. “I accept!” I shout just in case he didn’t hear me mentally.
Tairn dislodges his jaw with a wet, sucking sound as his fangs slip free of Solas’s neck, and he retreats with arrogant footfalls, not even bothering to lower his head or protect his throat. Rhiannon and I fall into the shade as Tairn blocks out the sun overhead.
And Varrish stares at me with a hatred so bitter I can taste it on the back of my tongue as Solas launches behind him with a roar aimed in my direction—or Tairn’s—leaving behind pools of blood on the grass below. Only once Solas is clear of the flight field does Varrish rise to his feet, and I don’t need words to hear him loud and clear as he sends one last, lethal look my way and then strides for the end of the field and the Gauntlet steps.
“Problem solved.” Tairn’s head swivels, watching Solas’s flight path, and the rest of the dragons in the field raise their heads again.
But my heartbeat doesn’t calm or even slow at the dread that curdles in my stomach. Varrish may have been my enemy before, but I have a feeling this just made Solas my nemesis.
“I thought for sure he’d cancel your leave after Tairn nearly slayed Solas,” Rhiannon says, walking the path toward the flight field with me three nights later.
“Me too,” I admit as the bells chime a quarter before midnight. “I’m sure when Solas is healed, he’ll be right back in my face. Or worse.”
“It’s been a couple of days.” She glances over at me, and even though there are only a few feet between us, the distance feels insurmountable. “Are you really going to make me use some of those new interrogation tactics we’re learning to pry the truth out of you? Would you rather I go with the empathetic or more directly confrontational approach?”
“About?” I nudge her shoulder.
She shakes her head in frustration. “About Varrish’s little comment that you’d already been punished once before?”
“Oh. Right.” I take a deep breath and focus on my footsteps as we near the Gauntlet. “A few weeks ago, he got mad that Andarna wasn’t feeling up to maneuvers and used my signet training as punishment.”
“He what?” Her voice raises. “Why wouldn’t you tell us that?”
“Because I didn’t want you targeted.” It’s the simplest truth.