“I thought you said leather was bad?” The saddle itself is sumptuous black leather, complete with two raised pommels for my hands, and when I settle in, it fits like a dream. I bend and adjust the stirrups with the buckle system on the straps.
“The leather is a hazard on my chest if we take a fire attack, since your saddle would slide right off. But if you take a direct blast up there, sitting on a piece of metal isn’t going to save you.”
I don’t bother pointing out that the only fire we’d be taking is from other dragons, which is a problem that doesn’t exist, since gryphons are all beak and claw. Instead, I find the straps for my thighs and buckle in.
“This is ingenious,” I say to Xaden.
“Let me know if it needs modifications after we win today.”
Arrogant ass.
We’re airborne moments later, Andarna keeping up and staying tucked close to Tairn just like we’ve practiced.
Our mission is to keep the flag out of enemy hands, so we skirt the perimeter of the hundred-mile battlefield that encompasses most of the central range while the other squads handle reconnaissance and retrieval.
About an hour into the afternoon, I’m wondering if this assignment is actually meant as punishment for Dain and not an honor. The twelve of us are split into two tight formations of six, seven when taking Andarna into account. Dain has the flag in his group just ahead of us, and when we reach yet another peak in the range, he splits to the right.
Tairn banks to the left, and my stomach pitches as we sweep down the side of the mountain. The wide straps dig into my thighs, holding me firmly in place, and my heart thunders as pure exhilaration hits as hard as the rush of wind against my face and goggles as we dive, and dive, and dive.
And for the first time, there’s no fear that I’ll tumble off his back. Slowly, I unclench my hands from the pommels and a heartbeat later, my hands are above my head as we plummet toward the valley below.
I’ve lived twenty years and never felt as alive as I do in this moment. Without even grounding in my Archives, power surges in my veins, crackling with a life all its own, jolting every single one of my senses to a degree that nears pain.
Tairn flares his wings, catching air and pulling out of the dive.
“You’re going to have to work on those shoulder muscles, Silver One. We’ll practice this week.”
Leaning as far as I can out of the saddle, I see Andarna clutched in Tairn’s claw as we level out in a glide along the valley floor.
“Thanks! I’ve got it now,” Andarna says, and Tairn lets her free.
Power rattles my bones, as if it’s looking for a way out, and I force myself upright. It’s different than usual…like instead of standing ready to be molded by my hands, it wants to mold me.
A moment of fear skitters along my spine. What if the backlash of power from not manifesting a signet has chosen today to finally release? I shake my head. I do not have time to worry about what might happen—not in the middle of the War Games. My power is just feeling free because I’m finally not so focused on falling out of my seat. That’s all it is.
Sitting tall in the saddle, I sweep my unsteady gaze along the landscape as Tairn begins to climb again, and my heart stutters. Up high on the western ridgeline is a gray tower that almost blends in to the cliffside. I would have missed it if not for the—
“Is that what I think it is?” Fear only feeds the uncontrollable energy prickling my skin.
Tairn’s head is already turned in that direction. “Dragons.”
I glance over my shoulder toward Liam and Rhiannon and see that Tairn must have relayed the message, because we break formation, scattering as three dragons launch from the cliff above us, diving in different directions.
We’ve given them multiple targets, but now we’ll face them one-on-one.
A hail of ice pellets strikes my skin, bouncing off Tairn’s scales, but he’s forced to tuck his wings in tight to avoid damage.
My stomach launches into my throat as we free-fall, the valley floor rising up at us at an alarming rate. Heat and energy threaten to devour every inch of my body, and even my eyes feel like they’re on fire. Oh fuck, my signet is going to backlash against me during the games.
“Ground now!” Tairn roars.
I slam my eyes shut, throwing both mental feet onto the marble floor of the Archives and throwing up the walls around me, only leaving entrances for Tairn’s torrent of power, Andarna, and access to Xaden, and I immediately feel more in control.
When I open my eyes, we’re ascending, Tairn’s wings beating with so much force that I slide back in the saddle with every push.
He’s left the ice-wielding First Wing cadet in a dive behind us, and I cringe as the dragon barely controls the descent, banking in the opposite direction we’re headed.
“That’s where they’re guarding the egg.” It has to be, considering another three dragons have taken the place of the others at the edge of the cliff, ready to launch.
“Agreed. Hold tight.” Tairn barely has a second to shout before a dragon flies out of the valley to the right and blasts a stream of fire at us.
“Tairn!” I scream, watching in horror as the flames barrel toward us.
Tairn banks, taking the blast straight to his belly, shielding me from all but the sizzling heat that blazes by.
What the actual fuck?
“Andarna?” If something happens to her because First Wing is out for blood…
“Fireproof, remember?”
I let out a shaky breath. One worry down, but the other dragon is on our heels, opening its mouth and curling its tongue.
Tairn jerks and his tail swings, catching the offending dragon in the side, just below its wing. The other dragon roars, falling sideways, losing altitude at an alarming rate.
But I don’t focus on the descent. Instead, I use the time to scan the mountainside for the outpost I spied earlier. My heartbeat quickens as I spot it peeking out from a ridge, only one remaining dragon guarding it.
“Xaden! The egg is here!” I relay.
