Chapter 14 #4
She is not my concern, fledgling. Besides, she has proven repeatedly that she can care for herself.
I looked over at Medra. To my surprise, she gave me a subtle nod. Did she know what Nyxaris was planning?
But Kage … I thought desperately. My House Leader. He came here to try to help me.
The highbloods are of no concern to me, Nyxaris growled. Only you. Now, stand back.
I moved—not because I was fast like Medra or brave like Kage.
I moved because I was afraid, and Nyxaris had told me to jump in a way that brooked no refusal.
I moved just in time as fire blasted forth from Nyxaris’s jaws.
My shoulder brushed something as I staggered, my feet landing just outside the office doorway. Everything happened at once.
The room exploded into flames.
Dragon fire burst from Nyxaris, flooding the room with light and heat so intense the air was suddenly searing in my lungs.
Medra dove into a corner of the room, shielded from the blast. But I needn’t have worried about her at all, for Nyxaris had a target in mind: the desk in the center of the room.
As flames engulfed the desk, Regan screamed, “Amina!” I’d have expected her to call Viktor’s name, but either way, it wasn’t her archon who came to her aid.
Kage moved like a bolt of lightning. One second he was beside Medra, the next he was at Regan’s side.
He grabbed her by the waist, half lifting, half yanking her across the room, her high heels skidding over the floor.
Pulling her to the opposite end of the room from the window, he grabbed hold of a huge bookcase and drew it away from the wall, shoving Regan and himself behind it.
Hassan wasn’t so lucky. No one came for her. She died screaming alone beneath the desk—a scream that lasted only a brief moment before being cut short as the flame hit her fullon, melting her like fat dripping from roasting meat.
And Viktor? He was already gone.
“Holy Mother of Blood,” a voice beside me breathed.
I turned. Regan’s secretary stood beside me, a crossbow in his hand, his eyes wide and shocked. For a second, he actually pointed the thing at Nyxaris. Then the dragon’s eyes narrowed, and a split second later the crossbow had clattered to the ground.
I will not destroy him, Nyxaris said, almost lazily. Simply because he is too close to you. You may tell him he has been spared.
I cleared my throat. I won’t, if you don’t mind. I don’t think he’d take it the right way.
As you wish.
“Florence!” Medra had me by the arms. She raised a hand to cup my cheek, reminding me of my mother. “Are you all right?”
I started to nod, but Nyxaris interrupted. You were fortunate. Your mind will heal. Your body, too.
“Nyxaris …” I cleared my throat again, tasting smoke and ash. “Nyxaris says I’ll heal. Where is Viktor?”
Together Medra and I looked back at where Regan stepped out from behind the bookcase. Kage came after her, his eyes wary as he looked at Nyxaris.
I tire of this. Nyxaris beat his wings, and the room was filled with the echoing gusts.
Regan screamed, covering her face as ashes from the desk flew into the air.
Nyxaris’s great lizardlike snout pushed into the ruined chamber.
I trembled as I regarded him. His maw opened, breath still swirling with smoke and heat.
Then his head dipped low, and I could see nothing but midnight-black scales and molten-orange eyes.
This has gone on long enough, the dragon growled into my mind. There is only so much time one may avoid the inevitable. My patience is at an end. You will come to me now.
I stood frozen, the heat of his fire still clinging to my skin, and the smell of scorched wood, burned parchment, and melted flesh still filled the room.
Beside me, Medra stood quietly, simply watching.
Nyxaris had spoken. Deep inside, I knew I had no choice but to obey.
I took a long breath and moved to the window, my shoes crunching on shards of broken glass.
The world outside was all scales and wings. The world outside was my future.
Up, Nyxaris murmured, not unkindly. On.
My knees trembled, but I took a step forward. Then another.
Nyxaris clung to the tower like a sculpted gargoyle, claws anchored in the stone. He turned his head, showing me the base of his neck and massive shoulder blade.
I stumbled back, my heart stammering in my chest. I can’t. Please, I’ll fall.
You will not fall, he growled impatiently. Mortals and their endless fear of falling. I assure you, you will not come to harm. You are my rider now. Rise, fledgling, and become the rider you know you must be.
My eyes lifted, meeting his. The moment belonged only to us. I’m coming, I whispered, my mind to his.
He rumbled, a sound of satisfaction, deep and possessive.
I could feel the shudder inside my chest, echoing like a second heartbeat.
I reached out a hand to touch his shining black scales.
He was hot—as a creature of air and flame should be—but not unbearably so.
I climbed up, one hand gripping the edge of a scale as gently as I could, the other clutching the ridge of his shoulder.
And then I was on, flattened against him, face buried against rippling scales and rising muscle.
The wind swelled. Nyxaris let go of the stones. His wings stretched wide. Together, we took flight.