Chapter 24
Do you have the ore, Wreylith? Syla asked in her mind, hoping the dragon was paying attention to her thoughts.
She was creeping away from the campfires with Vorik so close behind her that she imagined she could feel the heat of his body.
She could certainly still feel the heat of her own body, her need lingering, longing to be satisfied.
But she tried to quell those thoughts—and her desire—especially since Wreylith would have snarky comments.
Of course. It is my patience that I’ve almost lost, not the ore. Igliana and your comrades wait at the cave mouth, and I’ve had to endure the inept flirtations of horny male dragons who don’t know that night is a time for sleeping.
I’m sorry. Thanks to the teal glow that emanated from the back of the cavern, Syla could make out Wreylith’s form near the base of the cliff under the entrance tunnel.
A horny male of your own kind follows close behind you.
Yes, that’s, uhm, part of my plan. Syla groped for a way to request that Wreylith carry Vorik out of the cavern with her. She hadn’t asked—funny how she’d gotten distracted back there—but assumed Agrevlari had gone back with the other dragon and rider to report on Vorik’s prisoner status.
Some prisoner. Every time she thought he’d been rendered helpless, he was simply lying in wait for an opportunity to spring.
When you spoke of retrieving the amphora, Wreylith said, I did not know you would also return with him.
He’s agreed to help me in the storm god’s laboratory. In case you dragons aren’t able to enter it, I’ll need a powerful ally.
It is likely to be well guarded by some of his eternal creations, yes. And your current allies were insufficient for warding off gargoyles, some of his more basic of minions.
Yes. Syla was glad Wreylith didn’t point out that she had been even more insufficient at warding them off.
For a puny human, that one is powerful and a capable warrior. Bringing him is a wise decision, but since he desires what you desire, you must be ready for him to betray you after the goals have been achieved.
I’m going to betray him first. Syla hadn’t figured out exactly how yet, especially since Vorik would be ready for any attempt at seduction—they’d discussed it openly, after all—but she would come up with something. She had to.
Excellent, Wreylith said.
Syla smiled sadly as she reached the dragon’s side, wishing betrayal needn’t be involved.
Vorik stopped close, touching her shoulder with his hand, as if he longed to continue what they’d started.
She did, too, and caught herself stepping back into him, but that would have to wait.
All it would take was one of the dragons noticing that a prisoner was leaving, and it could alert the whole camp.
As if to act as a further deterrent, Wreylith swung her big head down to look at them, her golden eyes glowing slightly.
“Will she carry me as well?” Vorik asked. “Or do I need to start climbing out of here?”
He sounded like he expected that, but he remained close. Or Syla did. Their bodies were both distracted by each other tonight.
Wreylith? Syla picked up her pack, which was waiting by the dragon’s foreleg, a bundle of ore now wrapped and tied to it. Will you carry both of us to the next destination?
If I allow him to ride until his dragon can reclaim him, Wreylith said, you will not fornicate on my back.
Syla’s cheeks heated, but the tingling magic of the ore seeped through the fabric, and that distracted her from her embarrassment. Of course not. That would be… weird.
And insulting to the dragon beneath you. Stormer riders have done it, and their domesticated pet dragons have allowed it. I cannot imagine the indignity. I would not mate with a male while a rider was attached to me.
I’m glad to hear that. I think I’d have a hard time staying on if you did.
Undoubtedly. Dragons mate very vigorously.
“Are you discussing whether she’ll let me ride with you?” Vorik held out his arms, offering to hold the components for Syla.
“We’re discussing… something.” Syla didn’t accept his offer, instead tying the amphora to her pack. Carrying everything would be awkward, especially if they had to walk later, but she wouldn’t hand over the components unless it was an emergency. “I think you can climb up.”
With his pack and sword secured, Vorik sprang atop Wreylith’s back, as if leaping more than twice the height of a horse was an easy feat.
Syla didn’t know if she could even climb up there.
It wasn’t as if scales came with handholds.
So far, dragons had grabbed her in their mouths and tossed her onto their backs, but that wasn’t pleasant.
Could she use her power to turn tendrils of magic into foot and handholds? She wasn’t certain she could pull her weight up even with that assistance.
Vorik, leg hooked over Wreylith’s broad back, lowered himself to extend a hand. She could just reach it. He pulled her up effortlessly, as if she were the most slender of princesses. He turned, angling her so that she came down behind him, and moved his pack to rest in front of him.
“I’m afraid if we rode the other way, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you,” he murmured.
“Did you hear Wreylith’s comment about fornication?” Syla wondered how much Wreylith had shared with him.
“I did not. I suppose she wasn’t in favor of it.”
“Not on her back, no.”
Wreylith sprang into the air, and Syla flattened a hand to her scales, sending her power into the dragon to secure her hold. She wrapped her other arm around Vorik.
“In other places?” he asked with amusement.
“I don’t think she objects in general to us having relations.” Her cheeks flushed again as she remembered Wreylith’s approval that Syla had drawn a powerful mate to kneel and satisfy her needs.
“No?” Vorik asked. “I may be starting to like her.”
They flew into the tunnel, Igliana’s outline with her two riders visible in the entrance ahead of them.
“Even though her magnificence prompted Agrevlari to attack your general’s dragon?” Syla asked.
“Even though.” Vorik somewhat brazenly patted Wreylith on the shoulder.
She growled.
He laughed softly and lifted his hand. “She may not yet like me.”
“She considers you less puny than most humans.”
“I’m honored by her deep regard.”
Syla also laughed, relief seeping into her as they flew into the canyon without any alerts going up in the camp. Her relief was short-lived, for when she looked back, a lookout stood on the cliff above the cavern entrance, someone silhouetted against the cloudy night sky.
Chieftess Atilya? Or someone she’d put out as a scout?
Maybe it didn’t matter. They were flying away with Igliana. If she hadn’t yet informed the other dragons of the situation, she surely would in the morning. Either way, Atilya would soon learn that Syla and Vorik had flown out of their camp on the same dragon. As allies.
Syla didn’t know what the ramifications would be, but, at the least, Atilya would be irked that Syla had taken the prisoner she’d wanted to trade for her own people.
Atilya hadn’t promised assistance, regardless, so maybe it wouldn’t matter, but Syla worried she might have alienated someone who could have been a powerful ally.
The odds of her claiming the throne and leading her people to a better future seemed worse than ever.
If Syla ever got the chance, maybe she could explain to Atilya that Vorik could have left any time he’d wanted, something that became doubly evident when a familiar dragon flew out from behind the next mountain top.
Agrevlari. He didn’t get too close to Wreylith or Igliana, merely matching their pace as they flew east, toward the desert.
The air dried and warmed as the dragons spent the morning flying across the mountains.
By afternoon, they soared over the desert, and bright sun blazed down upon them.
Though Vorik had traveled over the mountains numerous times in his life, he didn’t know where any abandoned laboratories were and was content to let Wreylith lead the way without input from him.
Or was it the orange dragon who knew the location?
They were flying side by side with Agrevlari remaining far enough back that he wouldn’t risk irritating the females.
Had I known you would remain on Wreylith’s back and did not need me, Agrevlari said, I would have continued snoozing in the cave I found.
We flew through the night, and you haven’t ventured close enough for me to jump onto your back, Vorik replied, eyeing tall cactuses below, their arms stretched toward the sky, thorns lining their green and gray flesh.
Among them were countless other varieties of shorter and squatter cactuses—everything from bush shapes to spiky grass-like clumps to a sprawling ground-cover species with prickly pads that formed meandering patches across the pale, dusty earth.
The tall many-armed varieties were most distinctive.
Had I risked Wreylith’s ire and done so, would you have jumped over to me? One of Agrevlari’s eyes rotated toward Vorik—no, toward Syla who was riding behind him.
The last Vorik had peeked back, she’d been snoozing, her cheek against his back, her spectacles hanging on a strap around her neck.
When they’d mounted the red dragon, it had been wise of him to arrange Syla behind him, instead of between his legs, a very intimate position that would have been on the excruciating side after their arousing kisses and touches in the camp.
Since Wreylith wouldn’t likely have humored them with a stop so they could get more intimate, he wouldn’t have had a release.
Of course, having Syla pressed up against him from behind hadn’t been without stimulation, either, but after hours of riding and dozing, his body had settled down and accepted, however grudgingly, that a sexual encounter wasn’t on the horizon.