14. Annalise
Chapter fourteen
Annalise
“Please, Tyr. Don’t,” I whisper aloud as my tears threaten to betray me. “Don’t tell me everything will get better. I can’t hear that right now.”
“It will. Just take a deep breath.”
“Take a deep breath?” I laugh sardonically. “A breath won’t miraculously give my leg strength. It won’t repair the muscles he cut through, or the fucking damage I did when I pulled the fucking dagger out!” I scream, the words ripping violently out of my chest as uninvited tears fill my eyes.
Because every text that's come through, every instructor interaction, every look from Sasha has been saying that.
"You’re strong."
"You’ll be as good as new."
"You’ll recover."
Empty reassurances that bounce off the cracks already splitting me apart.
Like I can summon the strength from the body I’ve failed too many times before.
My body aches, haunted by the injuries my dad inflicted, and wrung out by the memories dragging me back to the night I’d rather carve out of my memory than relive again, and to the sweet angel I'll never get to meet.
With every breath, I question if any of this is worth it.
Tyr shifts beside me, massive wings rustling as he lowers his head slightly.
“Faren—”
“Don’t!” I snap, my legs giving out before I even realize they’re shaking, my balance gone in an instant. My body slams into the hard, stick-and-pine-needle-covered ground, as humiliation tears at me.
The disappointment of the last five days of trying to mount Tyr crashes down on me all at once, piling on top of everything else already clawing at my mind.
Five days of Tyr offering to lay down so I don’t have to climb.
Five days of me refusing and then only making it a few feet off of the ground before my leg gives out.
Five days of reminders that all of my progress has not only been wiped clean, but dragged backward, leaving me worse off than I was the day I bonded.
Despite the wound being closed, the tests Sasha did yesterday indicate that my muscles are still a week away from being fully healed, which means that despite being able to study, and shoot, and move around the house, I can’t even climb my own bonded dragon.
Pathetic.
He’s quiet in my head, but I can feel him—his presence pressing gently against my mind the way it has since we bonded. Always steady. Always patient.
Always waiting for me.
For a split second, I’m not in the forest—I’m back on the cavern floor, the metallic tang of blood thick in my mouth as my body refuses to move.
My vision blurs, not with dramatic tears, but with that dull film that’s been sitting over everything since I woke up. Like the world is slightly farther away now and I’m watching my life happen through glass. A broken laugh escapes me, quickly dissolving into a sob I can’t hold back.
“I'm sorry, Tyr,” I whisper hoarsely as tears spill down my face, blurring the forest into streaks of muddled greens and browns. “I'm so sorry I'm being such a bitch.”
The ground shakes as Tyr’s large body collapses against the ground beside me, dirt and debris ricocheting into the air by the unexpected collision.
“Get. On!” Tyr snarls.
“No, I can climb. Just stand back up, I can do it!”
“Get on his back, or I’ll put you up there myself,” Korr’s voice cuts through the air as Kali lands by the house.
“I will when he stands back up!”
“You’ve been trying that for almost a week, and your body isn’t ready for it yet.
Your bond is like a pressure cooker—the bond strengthens and builds with all of the time you spend together, but if you don't fly together for too long, the pressure grows until you're ready to explode—like you're doing right now. "
"I don't like saying this, but he's not entirely wrong. Flying lets all of the built-up time solidify the bond, which strengthens your abilities."
"So, you’re going to put your stubborn nature aside for thirty seconds while you get on his back, and then we’re going on a trip.”
A trip? That gets my attention, my eyes snapping up to search his in case this is all some sick joke…but I don’t see even a flicker of a smirk on his face.
“Dean Stevens said I’m not allowed to fly until I can climb him myself.”
“Did she say he had to be standing?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.
My mouth opens, closes, and opens once more. I try to remember every word from her missive, but I come up completely blank.
“Get on your dragon, Miss Corvin.”
“Sir—”
“You have three seconds to get your ass on your dragon,” he commands, each word drawn out with his irritation.
“Three.”
“Or what?” I snap.
“Or I will carry you up there myself." He steps toward me, intent clear. "Two."
“You wouldn’t dare," I snarl, though it doesn't come out nearly as threatening as I'd hoped.
“One.”
His hands reach out, but I’m already climbing Tyr's leg, my fingers locked onto each scale as satisfaction radiates through the bond.
Hunter’s barely atop Kali before his arm moves, a sheathed dagger that I quickly catch with a questioning look.
“You should always have at least one weapon on you, just in case.”
“This isn’t one of mine,” I comment stupidly.
Not only is he the one giving it to me to strap on, but with its intricate filigree hilt, Damascus steel blade, and 'Cha dèan sgàile cron ormsa' engraved between flowing lines starting at the pummel and stopping just an inch before the tip. I’m momentarily caught up in the incredible craftsmanship when, faster than I can blink, a small, black stone comes flying directly toward my face.
Barely catching it, I’m surprised to find it warm despite the crisp morning air. A thin silver line runs through the center, glowing faintly beneath my fingers.
“You realize most people explain or give a warning before they’re hurling hard objects.”
Hunter doesn’t even look up from tightening Kali’s saddle straps as he grumbles, “And yet, you caught both of them.”
I turn the stone over in my palm. “And if I hadn't?”
“Then it probably wouldn’t have felt very good when they hit you in the face…or when you had to climb down to get them only to climb back up.”
“What is it?” I ask with a huff of annoyance, though Captain Dickhead still doesn’t look up until he’s finished fiddling with Kali’s grip scales—the textured scales along the bottom third of a dragon's neck and where all riders learn to maintain so the scales remain healthy and easy to grip.
“It’s a communication rune so we can talk during flight without needing Tyr and Kali to play telephone.”
I glance down at the silver line again.
“And here I thought you were just throwing rocks at me.”
“Fresh out, unfortunately.”
“Dick.”
The corner of his mouth twitches as I stick the rune to the bone behind my ear like I just saw Hunter do.
“What? Our agreement was for ‘asshole.”
“That it was…”
“So where are we going?”
“Across the continent.”
I blink.
“I’m sorry, what? Today?”
“Today.”
I look toward the horizon, then back at him.
“You couldn't have led with that?”
“Would it have changed anything?”
“Well, no...”
“Exactly. So get ready to fly. We’ll do a few food and bathroom breaks, but I’d rather be back before it’s too dark, so let’s not waste any more time.”
“According to Kali, this is an assignment. A long one, apparently. A half-day flight to deliver a sealed missive to the military base outside the King's castle, then we’ll turn around and come home.”
“Sounds…fun?” I say, and I mean it. Is it sudden? Sure, but it's something to do, and it feels like it could be a step back toward the life I've been fighting to reclaim.
Or maybe it’s just because I’ll be sitting on Tyr with nothing but sky ahead of me.
Hunter and Kali take a few steps forward, her taking a spot only slightly behind Tyr out of respect for him being of higher power and an alpha.
“Ready?”
I settle my shaking hands against Tyr's neck the same way I did on my first flight with him.
“I’ve got you,” Tyr assures me, and his confidence is all the encouragement I need.
“Try to keep up,” I call through the rune as Tyr launches into the sky, Kali only seconds behind.
The first few hours pass mostly in silence. Not comfortable or uncomfortable…just…silence.
Despite living together, we’ve gotten away with the daily recap and a few short stories filling the air as we eat. With each passing minute in the air though, it becomes painfully evident that this is what happens when two people who don’t know each other well enough are stuck in the same space.
Korr is my instructor. I’m his student. And because of that, every question I’ve considered asking feels like I’m walking through a minefield of what does or doesn’t cross the line…
We’re only halfway to the camp berthing, the makeshift sleeping quarters outside Kilkirk Castle, when the weather turns—the light, fluffy clouds we’ve been flying through becoming thick, as the updraft tests every ounce of my strength.
Korr looks toward the horizon, then back at Tyr and me.
“We’re going north.”
I stare at the storm racing toward us from our right. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. It has the best odds.”
“It’s also the direction with the worst weather.”
“Yup, now stay close,” he says seconds before he and Kali bank straight toward clouds whose coloring rivals the black eyes I used to get not far from here courtesy of my dad.
The wind sharpens as we climb, biting through my gloves and flight jacket despite how tightly tucked I am against Tyr’s neck.
For a while, my thoughts are too consumed by trying not to think about the tiny zaps of electricity shocking me, focusing instead on how I can reposition as I try not to freeze.
Then suddenly we’re touching down on a rocky plateau overlooking the base, another dragon and its rider already waiting.