“I know,” he repeats. “And I could call you Violence like the wingleader.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” I narrow my eyes as I move forward, checking where his chest begins to rise. “And you know how much that ass annoys me.”
“Annoys you?” Tairn chuckles above me, the sound like a chuffing cat. “Is that what you call it when your heart rate—”
“Don’t even start with me.”
A growl rumbles through Tairn’s chest above me and vibrates my very bones. I pivot, my hands hovering along my sheathed daggers as Dain approaches.
“It’s just Dain.” I walk out from between Tairn’s forelegs when Dain pauses a dozen feet away.
“Anger does not suit him.” He growls again, and a puff of steam hits the back of my neck.
“Relax,” I say and glance back over my shoulder at him. My eyebrows shoot up.
Tairn’s golden eyes are narrowed in a glare on Dain, and his teeth are bared, dripping saliva as another growl rumbles.
“You’re a menace. Stop it,” I say.
“Tell him if he harms you, I’ll scorch the ground where he stands.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tairn.” I roll my eyes and walk to Dain, whose jaw is locked, but his eyes are wide with apprehension.
“Tell him, or I’ll take it up with Cath.”
“Tairn says if you harm me, he’ll burn you,” I say as dragons to the left and right launch skyward without their riders, headed back to the Vale. But not Tairn. Nope, he’s still standing behind me like an overprotective dad.
“I’m not going to harm you!” Dain snaps.
“Word for word, Silver One.”
I blow a breath out slowly. “Sorry, he actually said, if you harm me, he’ll scorch the ground where you stand.” I turn and look over my shoulder. “Better?”
Tairn blinks.
Dain keeps his eyes on me, but I see it there, the swirling anger Tairn warned me about. “I would rather die than harm you, and you know it.”
“Happy now?” I ask Tairn.
“I’m hungry. I think I’ll partake in a flock of sheep.” He launches with great beats of his wings.
“I need to talk to you.” Dain’s voice drops, and he narrows his eyes.
“Fine. Walk me back.” I motion at Rhiannon to go on without me, and she walks ahead with the others, leaving Dain and me to bring up the rear.
We fall back at the edge of the field.
“Why didn’t you tell me you can’t keep your fucking seat?” he shouts at me, grabbing my elbow.
“I’m sorry?” I yank my arm out of his hold.
Tairn growls in my mind.
“I’ve got this,” I shout back at him.
“All this time, I’ve been letting Kaori teach you, thinking he must have everything under control. After all, if the rider of the strongest dragon in the quadrant couldn’t keep her seat, then surely we’d all know.” He rips his hand over his hair. “Surely I would know if my best friend fell every fucking day that she flew!”
“It’s not a secret!” Anger bubbles in my veins. “Everyone in our wing knows! I’m sorry if you haven’t been keeping tabs on your squad, but trust me, Dain. Everyone knows. And I’m not going to stand here while you lecture me like I’m a child.” I stalk off, my strides eating up the ground as I follow my wing.
“You didn’t tell me,” he says, anger in his voice giving way to hurt as he catches up, more than matching my pace.
“There’s not a problem.” I shake my head. “Tairn can keep me buckled in magically if he needs to. I’m the one asking him to loosen the restraints. And I’d think twice before you question him. He’s more of the char-first-ask-questions-later type.”
“It’s a huge problem, because he can’t channel—”
“His full powers?” I ask as we make it out of the field, heading toward the steps that descend next to the Gauntlet. “I know that. Why do you think I’m up there asking him to loosen up?” Frustration is a living, breathing thing inside me, eating up all rational thought.
“You’ve been flying for a month, and you’re still falling.” His voice follows me down the staircase.
“So is half the wing, Dain!”
“Not a dozen times, they aren’t,” he shoots back. He’s on my heels as I pick up my pace toward the path that will lead back to the citadel, the gravel crunching beneath my boots. “I just want to help you, Vi. How can I help?”
I sigh at the plaintive tone in his voice. I keep forgetting this is my best friend, and he’s having to watch me risk my life every day. I don’t know how I’d feel if our roles were reversed. Probably just as concerned. So I try to lighten the mood and say, “You should have seen me a month ago when it was three dozen times.”
“Three dozen?” His voice rises on the last word.
I halt at the mouth of the tunnel and offer a smile. “It sounds worse than it is, Dain. I promise.”
