26. Tested
~ VOSKI ~
We were already in flight when the next morning dawned, gray and heavy, with the promise of rain to come.
I warned Grace and the dragons that we needed to fly as far as possible before the storm set in.
If we weren’t too delayed, we would reach Vosgaarde the following day, a fact that both excited and terrified me.
What would we find?
Kham assured me he could reach Kgosi—if the Primarch was there—or any other dragon from enough distance to give us fair warning of what we would find. But that still meant flying until we were mere miles away before we knew what awaited us.
My head ran on a loop of what-if plans. Where to hide the girls if the Keep was in ruins, or the Furyknights were at war. How to hide them so Kham and I could enter the fray without leaving them at risk.
How far to trust Grace if I was forced to leave her away from the Academy, and alone.
How to locate Donavyn if he was there.
How much to tell, and to whom, if he wasn’t.
How to measure who to trust when any Furyknight might be working with our enemies—and if Donavyn or Bren hadn’t made it back, or had been defeated, how to ensure that the truth was known.
There was a rock in the pit of my stomach when I thought about it, but I kept going back over every possible strand of the web so I wouldn’t be left scrambling.
But the longer we flew, and the heavier the cloud-cover grew, the lower my hope that we’d see the Keep the next day. And the shakier I became.
I knew Grace was exhausted. But that was precisely when leaders among the Furyknights were taught to test our charges—no one ever faced war feeling energized. Plus, if we did fly into a Keep at war, I needed to make sure she wouldn’t panic. So, I decided to press Grace a little. Perhaps a lot.
“You’ve been remarkably brave in flight,” I said carefully.
Grace was startled—we’d flown for the past hour without a word. Yet, she nodded. “I love it,” she answered simply.
“We should reach the Keep in a couple of days. Would you like to try an exercise that might help you in your training as Flameborne?”
“Yes! Of course!” she twisted in her seat to stare at me over her shoulder. “What should I do?”
“One of our first exercises is to learn the limits of our equipment—and to learn to trust its strength. A very necessary aspect of flight for war. We cannot make decisions in battle out of fear. We must have utmost confidence in our dragons, our equipment, and ourselves.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
I smiled, taking a little joy in anticipation that the request would unnerve her. She’d be perfectly safe, though she wouldn’t feel it.
“Let me check your safety strap.”
She was already twisted in her seat, so it was a simple thing to double-check that she was clipped into a leather belt that wouldn’t snap.
I knotted the end of the belt around itself, holding myself tightly because I was forced to touch her, which made my skin tingle.
But glad, as well, that she’d taken that stableboy’s clothing.
Though I’d brought her clean trousers, she still wore the original belt.
Clearly the young man was bigger than her around the middle, because there was plenty of length remaining in the strong leather to ensure the buckle wouldn’t give under the force of her bodyweight.
When I was satisfied that she was at no danger of falling, I still instructed Kham to send Koa to fly underneath us, just to be certain. It was protocol to ensure there was always a second chance to save a falling Furyknight.
Then I took a deep breath and tried not to smile. “You’re going to stand up—brace your heels inside my thighs. Kham’s wing ridges will give us leverage. And when you’ve stood in flight, you’re going to throw yourself off, and let the safety strap catch you.”
Her eyes flew wide and she turned to look at me again. “Are you teasing me?”
I shook my head. “I’m actually providing you an advantage.
Every Flameborne who’s acknowledged by the herd is taken on their first flight, and expected to undergo a series of tests like this.
If you practice first—and overcome your fear—when you do it in the test, you’ll make all your brothers look bad. ”
Her brows pinched. “You want me to make them look bad? Why would I want to do that?”
I huffed. “Trust me, if you hope to make Furyknight rank, you’re going to do everything in your power to show your brothers up,” I chuckled.
She blinked and a strange expression flit across her pretty features, but she swallowed. “Very well.”
I smiled as she turned to face forward again. “You’ll need to—”
But before I could say another word, she’d leaned forward, planted both hands on Kham’s withers in opposing directions, just as I’d taught her for best balance, leaned forward to take her weight on her braced arms, then scrambled with her feet to lift her ass into the air—and right into my face, an aspect of this I hadn’t considered—and positioned her booted feet on either side of Kham’s spine, the soles flat on his sloped sides, and wedged between my thighs and his scales.
I caught her hips when she tried to straighten and immediately almost took a nose dive over his shoulder.
“Oh!” she cried, but caught one of his spines and steadied herself.
So much for my distraction from her warm curves.
A surge of want clenched my guts. I chuckled breathlessly at my own discomfort, knowing if my brothers were there and knew what I’d been trying to avoid, they would have laughed their asses off.
I leaned back so her behind wasn’t right in my face, and focused on helping her balance.
Soon, as she transferred most of her weight to her legs, I had to grip tightly with my thighs so her feet wouldn’t slip off his sides.
One hand on each hip, and leaning aside to watch where we flew, and how she gripped his spine. Within a minute, she’d found her balance and was slowly lifting her hands from his back.
Dear Lord, she was bold.
“Like this?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes fixed on his back. She was already half-upright, but then Kham down-flapped and his back shifted under us. She wobbled and whooped, but her fingers only brushed his spine. I caught her hips and helped her steady.
“Don’t brace your knees. Kept them slightly bent and soft—yes, like that! Let them soften the movement for you until you can feel him under you and… yes…”
I shook my head in disbelief. Most men at least hesitated the first time they were told to stand up in flight. And some—like my squad-brother Harle—shit themselves at the thought.
Yet, here she was, laughing shakily, wobbling, but eager. Her eyes bright.
I cleared my throat. “Keep your eyes on Kham’s head, not his back under you—I know it feels like you need to see it, but you can feel his movement through the soles of your feet.
Keeping your eyes forward, as his are, will help your body anticipate his movement and find the rhythm and angle when he turns. ”
“Turns?!”
“Not yet,” I reassured her with a grin. “But yes, the day will come when you’re confident to squat or stand through any movement that isn’t battle.”
She gasped, and I thought perhaps she was about to overbalance again, but instead, she straightened another couple of inches—all her weight and balance on her feet, her arms held out from her sides, only half-bent.
She kept her weight on the balls of her feet, like a pro, and while she looked awkward, I could see she’d gain both confidence and balance quickly.
She was a natural.
‘Made for this,’ Kham inserted quietly.
‘Yes,’ I agreed. The evidence was before me. There was no point denying it.
Underneath us, Koa called, and Kham responded. Grace giggled and wobbled, but kept her feet. I dropped my hands, no longer waiting to catch her. There would soon be no need.
Despite my misgivings, I felt genuine admiration watching her. She threw herself into any challenge—almost recklessly. I’d seen men do the same, but usually with an edge that said they either had something to prove, or walked the line of self-destruction. Grace seemed joyful to take the challenges.
Once she’d flown for a full minute, when she’d gained enough confidence to look around slowly, and even called to Koa, I knew it was time.
“Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“You’re going to step off and let the straps catch you.”
She wasn’t smiling anymore. But she nodded.
“Take hold of the strap and hold it out, away from you. The greatest danger in casting off is getting a foot caught in the slack—you can imagine how that goes when the strap pulls tight, I’m sure.”
Grace winced and nodded. Swallowing hard, she took the leather strap in both hands, then extended them out in front of her, letting the strap pull through her hands until her arms were fully extended.
“Good. Now the trick for your first time is to keep your feet below your waist—and when the strap catches you, let your body swing as it would on a rope swing. Have you ever swung on a rope or—”
“Yes, I know what you mean.” She licked her lips and nodded quickly, her eyes bright, but round. I could sense conflicting waves of thrill and fear in her, and almost laughed.
“Good, then focus on how you keep your feet forward and shift your weight back when the momentum reaches its peak and begins to swing you forward—do you know what I mean?”
“Yes.”
“Good. The moment you begin to drop, Kham’s flight will draw him forward of you. When the strap catches, aim your feet at his side and let it pull you against him.”
“Got it.”
“Excellent. With time you’ll grow skilled and you can—shit! Grace!”
I hadn’t covered the best and safest way to drop off a dragon’s back, but apparently she thought I’d given the command, because she sucked in an audible breath, grabbed the strap far too tightly, and hopped to the side. And promptly plummeted toward earth.