Mira #3
“And what will you do with all the power I could give to you?” he asks as he sets his claw on the ground and peers closer at me. “Will you mend the broken things like your brother? Raise the storms like your mother? Control fire like your grandmother? Wield the tides like your great-grandfather—”
“I’m more than familiar with my family’s legacy.
I don’t need it recited.” If he insists on continuing, we’ll be here until nightfall, and the throbbing in my leg has escalated to a body-wide pounding that’s making it increasingly difficult to remain on my feet.
“I have no way of knowing what signet I will manifest, but I will use it in every way possible to protect those I love. To protect the ones you love. No amount of pain inflicted on me will ever change that.”
Teine draws his head back slowly and blinks. “I will accept you as my first rider, but should you fall on our way to the flight field, I will not mourn before choosing a second.”
“Harsh. I can respect that.” My pulse gallops for an entirely different reason as fear is quickly overtaken by exhilaration.
He’s choosing me. Or at least allowing this interview to pass into the flight phase, about which I have no worries.
“I suppose if you’ll accept me as your first rider, then I’ll accept you as my first dragon. ”
“Riders do not survive the deaths of their dragons.” Teine stands to his full height and digs his claws into the ground, mixing my blood into the dirt.
“No sense of humor. Got it.” I rise up on my toes to test the pain but don’t bother looking down at my leg. I can still bear weight on it, so I’ll handle whatever damage is there when we get to the flight field. Besides, if it were arterial, I’d be dead by now.
“As if I would be so careless as to mortally wound you?” Teine huffs in annoyance. “I am the epitome of control, and I expect the same of you.”
“Excellent. Good to know I’m walking into another relationship founded on unrealistic expectations.
” I pull a deep breath into my lungs, then run for Teine, despite the pain encompassing the lower left half of my body.
When it’s time to jump, I launch off my right foot and make it up a good portion of his leg before I need to grab hold of his scales and hoist myself the rest of the way.
Once I reach his seat, I position myself as Kaori taught us, keeping my hands on the pommel scales and using my thighs to hold tight in preparation for launch.
Only then do I glance to the left, where I see a trail of blood on his green scales.
He may have marked me, but I’ve done the same to him in my own way.
“Now let’s see if you can hold on long enough to report my full name to your roll-keeper,” he says as he crouches under me.
“You’ll never shake me.” A smile spreads across my face. “And I can promise you this, Teine. I may not be your last rider, but I’ll be your favorite.”
He snorts, but there’s a surge of approval down the thin whisper of a bond forming on the edge of my mind as he springs forward and launches through the hole in the canopy that he created when felling the tree.
We fly, and the pain in my leg fades under an onslaught of adrenaline as we soar into the wind.
Every beat of Teine’s wings propels us faster, makes my smile wider.
No wonder Mom pushed Brennan and me to be riders.
Nothing on the ground could ever compare to this, the freedom, the speed, the exhilaration.
This is worth every ounce of pain the quadrant puts us through.
My leg protests vehemently through a series of spirals, but I mold my body to Teine’s back and hold my seat like any good Sorrengail.
By the time we land, I’m lightheaded from the thrill, the thinner air, and probably a substantial amount of blood loss, and I’ve never been happier.
I breathe a hefty sigh of relief when I spot Cowan standing proudly in front of his Red Scorpiontail, a bandage wrapped around his upper arm. We’ll celebrate later, as soon as the whole world knows that Teine chose me.
Every step across the flight field is excruciating after I dismount, but I keep from the indignity of limping by sheer force of will.
My gaze scours the riders who have gathered on the hillside and the dais in front of me as I walk toward the third-year keeping roll.
Panchek is here, of course, and even the commanding general of all Navarre’s forces—General Melgren—has taken the time to make an appearance, along with the generals of the eastern and western wings. There’s no trace of my mother.
I swallow the bitter taste of disappointment and remind myself that there’s a war going on and she’s needed elsewhere.
Honestly, I’d rather she be at the front with Brennan or at her station at the Torseney outpost, keeping Dad and Violet safe.
But still, it would have been nice to see a shred of validation in her eyes.
“My validation is all you shall seek from now on,” Teine lectures.
I roll my eyes, but there’s a grin on my face as I give Teine’s full name to the roll-keeper, officially becoming his chosen.
Tyrrendor had better watch itself. Two Sorrengail siblings now bear the title of rider.