15. Time to Fly
~ VOSKI ~
We stood in the clearing, sunlight blazing on the dragon’s scales, both of them lifting and fluttering their wings, crooning to each other, touching noses and rubbing each other with their snouts.
‘Get a room,’ I muttered into the link with Kham.
‘To what purpose?’ Kham asked me, genuinely baffled.
I rolled my eyes. ‘It’s what we say when a pair are too physically affectionate in public.
It means, go be in private.’ It was the wrong thing to say.
Kham rumbled and his mind immediately filled with images of precisely what he’d do to Koa if he got her alone.
My frustrated body leaped in response and I hissed a curse. ‘It was a metaphor!’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ Kham sent back smugly, rubbing his snout along his mate’s neck. ‘Wait until you surrender to the bond. You’ll see.’
‘There will be no surrendering,’ I sent with a scowl as I looked down at the harness in my hands.
I had to get both Grace and myself safely to the castle.
It was usual to fly double with an inexperienced rider.
Kham would accept anyone I trusted on his back.
And he’d take his mate’s rider even without me.
But I shuddered at the thought of being pressed against Grace, holding her back to my front for hours as we flew back to the Fyrehold royal estate.
I dearly wished I had a second harness for Grace, and could let her take her first flight alone. But it wasn’t possible—she couldn’t have ridden out a launch and landing alone her first time on dragonback. I knew that. It would only waste time if we tried.
Grace stood a few feet to my right, watching the dragons with bright, avid eyes. She practically bounced on her toes. In fact, I was certain if I hadn’t been there to see it, she would have.
She was thrilled, and itching to get on board.
I knew that feeling.
I found it disconcerting in her.
Without a word, I walked to Kham’s side, grasped his mounting strap and pulled myself up, walking up his leg, then shoulder, to clamber up to my usual seat at the base of his withers, between his wing ridges.
Muttering to myself, I clipped one of the straps that I’d removed from his harness back in, because I’d have to ride with Grace and we needed an additional safety strap for her.
“When I’ve got this fixed, I’ll help you climb up to mount,” I said quietly, re-testing the clips on the strap rather than look at her excited face. “You’ll sit at the front. When you’re clipped in, I’ll climb up behind you and—”
“I watched. I can do it.”
Kham huffed as she darted to the strap, looped it around her forearm, then began to climb.
“Wait—Grace!” I spluttered.
“I’m fine!” she panted and even though I wanted to crawl down and throttle her, the reality was I’d only put her at greater risk of falling since I’d have to use the same straps to get down to her.
Then I blinked because I’d never seen anyone use the technique she was using, and I couldn’t tell if she was insane, or extremely clever.
I’d been a big part of Bren’s training when she was Flameborne—the term we used for those chosen by a dragon, who wanted to be trained and eventually earn the pin of a Furyknight.
I knew the limitations a woman faced with our dragons and gear.
Their upper-body strength just wasn’t a match for the weight of the harnesses.
The brute strength needed to heft their own bodyweight had to be built over time.
It was true for men as well, though Bren had taken longer than the men I’d worked with.
Had I been given the time, I would have crawled up behind Grace, bracing her so she could rest along the way, and if she fell, I’d catch her in the hollow of my body, because I was strong enough to hold us both.
But Grace was already inching halfway up Kham’s side.
She’d looped the thick leather around her forearm, and used it like an anchor to pull herself up a step, then gritted her teeth and held her weight with the other hand while she looped the anchor arm again and pulled herself up another couple of steps.
She was straining. And terribly slow—it would never work as an actual mount technique. We had to be able to mount quickly in the case of battle. But it was effective. It gave her time to stop and rest when she grew breathless.
I worried about the constricted blood flow of the arm she used for the anchor though. And the fact that she’d run ahead and begun without instruction. But she was already high enough to hurt herself if she fell, so I bit my tongue and saved the lecture for later.
As she reached the point of Kham’s shoulder, I leaned forward, preparing to grasp her hand the moment she was in reach.
“He’s… very tall!” she puffed, her cheeks red and brow sweaty. But the cloak she wore was heavy and because she was levered back, it flared below her, hanging directly off her throat, restricting her breathing, so her face grew even redder.
She took the step up his side, reached up with her free hand and gripped the strap. I stretched, but she wasn’t close enough to grab yet.
She stopped there, catching her breath, then turned her arm so she could slide the loops of the strap up her forearm before bracing again.
She was close enough now that I saw the stark white and red welts around her arm and growled. “Shit, Grace. This isn’t safe. Who taught you to climb like that?”
She shrugged, anchored herself off that arm again, then wiped her brow with the other sleeve before pulling herself up another step. Then another.
“It’s just… what I figured out… to climb… from windows and… and such,” she puffed. “Doesn’t rely… on grip… as much.”
I frowned. “Why on earth does a lady need to climb out windows?” I stretched again and nodded, because my hand was only inches from her anchor arm now. When she stretched up on the next step, she’d clasp me instead of the strap.
“Spoken like… such a man,” she muttered, but then her gaze locked on my hand and I saw her prepare to reach for me—and realized she was bracing to jump.
“Wait, Grace—no!”
But I was too late. She’d already given herself a heave. Her free palm clapped into mine and I grabbed it—but sure enough, her arm was bent, which meant the moment she relaxed, she dropped—and her entire body weight fell inches before our grips caught.
She gave a squeak when our hands slipped—and because she’d lost the tension on her anchor arm as well, she tangled with the strap.
Which was an excellent way to break a limb, or dislocate a shoulder if she fell.
She flailed and her body turned, hanging from my hand.
I barked a curse—I’d only caught the harness strap on the other side of Kham’s neck just in time, so I wouldn’t be pulled out of my seat.
But now she had no traction on Kham’s side, and she was tangled with the heavy leather strap.
She gasped and tried to grab for it, but it was still half-looped around her now-free arm. Yet that hand was clearly numb and swollen from the restricted blood flow.
At least she didn’t panic.
“Grace, stop flailing.”
“I’m trying to help—”
“Stop moving, and listen to me,” I said through my teeth, my own training kicking in. “Just take a breath, and listen.”
Chastened, she stopped reaching and huffed, but let herself hang from my grip.
I nodded. “Good, now, using your shoulder—not your elbow, for fuck’s sake—turn yourself to face Kham’s side.
Free that arm from the strap—I’ve got you, don’t worry—then lift that hand so I can grab it.
My arms will be crossed. Don’t be concerned. ”
I sounded much calmer about this proposal than I felt. She was a tiny thing, but I’d have to brace both our weights with my knees in order to lift her, because her feet were out from under her and she no longer had any way to hold her own weight.
Leaning forward, I hooked my heels under Kham’s wing ridges, crossed my arms and reached for her with my free hand so she hung, facing my dragon, both hands above her head, and my arms crossed to clasp her hands.
When I had her by both hands and I was sure of my grip, praying my palms wouldn’t sweat, I took a deep breath. “I’m going to pull you up and turn you so you can sit on his spine. It’ll happen quickly. But I’ll catch you if it goes wrong. Just keep your wits and don’t wriggle.”
Her brow furrowed, but she nodded. I counted under my breath, then heaved her up, turning her as I did so, so her back was to me and I could get her seated side-saddle on his spine.
That way, I could steady her if she overshot.
If I tried to pull her far enough that she hung over his back, we’d both overbalance.
To her credit, she understood, and bent her forward knee to hook his withers when I yanked her up.
She did wobble, and that fucking cloak twisted in her legs.
But, I braced my arm to give her resistance until she found her center of gravity, then let go and hooked an arm around her waist to pull her toward me, so she could lift that forward leg over to straddle him.
Finally, we were both seated astride. My knees hooked over Kham’s wing ridges, and her nestled in the V between my thighs.
I blew out a breath of relief and frustration as soon as I was sure she was firm in her seat, and leaned over to pick up the safety strap I’d dropped, hooking fingers into her belt to clip it onto the leather.
“Next time, if someone’s taking your weight, you grab with your arm extended, so there’s no drop—that doubles your weight. You understand?”
Grace nodded, grinning, and clapped her hands.
“But we did it!” she said breathlessly, then shot me a delighted grin over her shoulder. “You’re very strong.”
I gave her a flat look. “I wouldn’t have to be if you hadn’t rushed.”
Her expression dampened then. “Sorry, I was trying—”
“First of all, you never mount another rider’s dragon without their permission and direct permission from the dragon themselves!”
Her shoulders rounded. “Oh! I didn’t think about th—”