Rhiannon #2
“Back down,” I finish for her, taking a step toward the green. “I know. I studied. Don’t worry. She’s mine.”
“You’d better be sure about that,” Eya replies. “A green will absolutely know.”
“You’re mine,” the green corrects me.
“Isn’t that what I said?” I take another step, putting me within an arm’s reach of the green’s snout.
“It is not the same.” Her nostrils expand with her next inhale, and then she draws her head back slightly, peering down at me. “You coagulate quickly, Rhiannon. What an excellent sign. I am Feirge.”
“Feirge,” I whisper, and that missing piece of my lungs clicks back into place.
“You would have known that had you sought the reference guide upon waking.” It’s a blatant admonishment.
My mouth opens, then shuts. She’s called me out in the way that only Raegan does—blunt with no apology. “I meant to, but I needed to make sure my squadmates ate, since our squad leader is running around out here.”
“Really? I had no idea. I’ve never seen any of your memories.” She tilts her head.
Well, that can’t be right. Dragons are privy to every memory the second they bond us.
“I’ve been calling for you since the dragon-watcher brought your aspirants to the forest. Your sense of direction leaves me awestruck.” Her talons strike the grass one at a time like a schoolteacher drumming her fingertips to hide her exasperation.
A smile curves my lips. “Thank you.”
She blinks.
“Oh.” My eyebrows rise, and my smile vanishes as quickly as it formed. I had it right—she’s exasperated. “You’re being sarcastic.” Of course she’s seen my memories and knows what I was doing this morning. And she definitely isn’t impressed with how long it has taken me to find her.
“How quickly you catch on.”
“I didn’t know dragons could be sarcastic,” I mutter, staring up at her as she lifts her head, clearing a path to her foreleg should I choose to mount.
“Hopefully you’ll be able to tell the difference when she isn’t,” Eya comments from behind me. “You’d better get going before she changes her mind.”
Feirge resumes clacking her talons.
“Right.” I take a step, then hesitate and glance back over my shoulder. “What about Visia?”
Eya looks at me as though I’ve sprouted another head. “What about her? If she wakes before nightfall, it’s up to her if she wants to continue, and if she doesn’t, she’ll be set back to next year in hopes a squad leader is willing to take her.”
“Willing to take her?” My eyes widen. “You mean Aetos had to agree to take Sawyer?” Eya nods, and my mind races over my squadmates.
Tynan’s a dick, but the rest of us are solid.
I choose to go with the odds. “When Visia wakes, tell her second squad understands the grit it takes to repeat, and she will be welcomed by whomever is designated to be our squad leader.”
A smile slowly softens Eya’s face. “I have a feeling that will be you.”
My heart beats double-time as I rip my gaze from Eya’s and turn back toward Feirge. A flicker of hope ignites in my chest, swiftly fanning into flames of determination as I look into her eyes. Squad leader. That’s a hefty goal, and I’d have to be worthy—
“You approached without hesitation instead of cowering when your friend with Teine’s scales was in danger during your Presentation.
If you were not worthy, you’d be char by now.
” Feirge huffs a deep breath that feels like a giant dragon sigh.
“Should you doubt it, you have no place on my back.” There’s zero sarcasm in her tone, and her talons still.
This is as serious as it gets.
“I’ll trust your judgment.” I study the distance to her foreleg and let the swelling anticipation I’ve felt since deciding to volunteer for the Riders Quadrant take over in the best possible way, giving in to the full thrill of the moment.
“Before or after I expire from waiting for you?”
I can’t help the laugh that bursts through my lips.
“Oh, you’re dramatic, too. Got it. Let’s do this.” I don’t waste another second, pushing off the ground and breaking into a dead run toward her foreleg. My boots eat up the distance quickly, and I use the curve of the top of her claw just like the ramp in the Gauntlet.
Unlike the Gauntlet, halfway up her leg, I realize I don’t have a prayer of reaching the top. Her leg is huge.
It feels like time slows as my momentum reaches its zenith, and somehow, I know that if I fail this attempt, Feirge won’t give me a second. Instead of watching Violet flail from the top of the Gauntlet, I’m suddenly the one who’s about to struggle.
Violet. I need to take a page out of her book.
My weight begins to shift, and instead of thrusting a dagger into the wooden ramp like Violet did, I jab my hand into the small opening between Feirge’s scales and use the leverage to haul myself up. It’s harder than I expected, and I love every second.
I don’t bother to pause to soak in the joy when I reach her shoulder.
I head straight for the smooth dip of scales that makes up her seat and take my place.
My hands grip the substantial ridges of her pommel, and I lock the toes of my boots into the gaps between her scales.
There’s a clicking sensation behind my ribs, like the final piece of a puzzle finding its home, and I relish the feeling.
My grin threatens to split my face clean open.
Who wouldn’t want to ride a dragon? That’s what I said to Violet before we stepped onto the parapet, and I still mean every word of it. This is the pinnacle of my life. Now I just have to hold on.
“Don’t worry. The flight is the easy part.” She jumps skyward, launching with surprising ease for such a small space and heaving us upward with heavy beats of her wings.
By the first vertical dive, I fully comprehend the depth of her sarcasm while I search for my stomach.
I only vomit once before we land on the flight field.
So worth it.