Page 54 of House of Ashes

I raised my closed fist to the dragon’s face, and put up my index finger. His nostrils flared. “First of all, you said you wanted shock and awe? Well, the First Claim is going to be the one and only time you get that. So I need to be able to ride gracefully, because there’s nothing less awe-inspiring than me falling off your back. Second—” I popped up my middle finger, and Rhylan’s eyes narrowed. “Varyamar is twice as far as the flight from Mistward was, and that made me feel like I was dying. One way or another, Rhylan, you’re taking me home soon. Thirdly—”

I’d just raised my thumb when someone cleared their throat behind me. I whirled around, finding Viros standing there with a fur-trimmed cloak in his hands.

“The Prince is planning to fly north, near Kirion Eyrie’s territory. He requested that we bring extra layers for you, as that region is prone to, ah, sudden snowstorms without warning.”

Kirion was far enough that the flight would take three times as long as our usual practice runs, if we were planning on getting anywhere near the eyrie itself. Their region even encompassed a small section of the Krysien Mountains before giving way to entirely snow-covered ranges.

I doubted Rhylan wanted to risk anyone seeing us, which meant we would be flying true north, well past the bounds of the Krysiens and into the land of ice, where dragon-killing storms spun up from thin air.

“I see.” I tucked my fingers back into a fist, glancing up at Rhylan and finding his mouth curled into the draconic version of a smug grin. “Thank you, Viros.”

I took the fur cloak and fastened it around my neck, whispering, “You were really just going to let me stand there and argue for your exact plan, huh?”

Rhylan chuckled, ebony smoke twining out of his nostrils, and stretched out, belly to the ground. I shook my head, pulled on the fleece-lined gloves that Viros offered, and mounted.

I had to hold back a scream as I did so. My muscles were past protesting—instead they all rioted at once, threatening to lock up and send me right over the other side of Rhylan’s back. It was only the thought of having to do it again, and the memory of a whip lashing at the backs of my legs, that got me in that saddle without so much as a grimace.

I immediately set to hooking the safety straps in place, tucking them down so they were disguised against the darkness of the saddle and my leathers, then I took a deep breath, settling myself in as comfortable a position as I could manage.

Staring down at the knotted scars on Rhylan’s back, I prepared myself for more pain.

Pain is good, I reminded myself. It means you’re alive. It means you’re no longer imprisoned.

With that thought in mind, I patted him right on a particular nasty knot of silvery tissue, letting him know I was ready.

Rhylan rose up easily, climbing through the dragon door with the same eagerness he showed for every flight. I supposed since he didn’t have to worry about plummeting to his death, flying was probably exhilarating every time he got to stretch his wings.

My thighs ached as I squeezed the saddle, leaning forward as Rhylan climbed the nearly-vertical rock wall towards the peak. The wind was high today, whistling in my ears, but it didn’t drown out the strange, whispery sound that reached my ears. I tilted my head, listening intently, puzzling over where I had heard it before—

Ice flushed through my veins. It was the sound of tearing cloth…the faint whisper of seams ripping.

I glanced down at my thighs, heart thumping unevenly when I saw one safety strap had torn away from the saddle and now flapped loose against my leg. I slid backwards an inch as soon as it tore completely free, squeezing even tighter with my legs and gripping the reins hard enough that my hands ached.

“Rhy—”

He exploded from the side of the mountain before I could form a word, canting hard to the side to catch the winds instead of gliding forward over the peak.

As my back tipped towards the earth—no, not the earth, but the craggy endless points of the mountainside, several thousand feet of grater that would shred me to pieces in an instant—the entire left half of my body swung away from the saddle.

Fear stole my voice and breath. I jammed my foot into the stirrup as deep as it would go, my entire body locked up rock hard as I clung to him. Something in my shoulder stretched to the breaking point as I dug my nails into the saddle, most of my weight focused on that single arm, and the stretching sensation gave way with a horrible pop of agony. Tears sprang into my eyes, ripped away by the wind almost instantly.

All I could think was that I was going to be flung free, to smash into the side of the eyrie and be torn to pieces in silence, never having gained enough breath for a scream or a farewell or even a final curse shouted at Rhylan.

Then he leveled out, pulling out of the spin over the eyrie so suddenly I was thrown upright, back into the saddle. Solid dragon beneath me had never felt so good before.

My shoulder was on fire, needles of bright pain stabbing down towards my elbow. I took a few deep breaths, choking back a sob of relief, unable to release my death grip on the saddle.

“Rhylan,” I whispered, wanting to shout, but my lungs had shriveled into prunes. All I could do was cling and shiver, as cold as ice inside.

He couldn’t hear me, not with this razor-sharp wind. And once I’d caught my breath, I couldn’t bring myself to yell.

In a normal life, in a normal world, that would have been nothing.

I’d seen dragons and their riders wheel in midair before, turning flips and diving almost vertically, no straps or safeties needed. The mind-speech would’ve made it possible, the dragon broadcasting his every move, the draga letting him know when to reel it in. They gave their riders warning before they went wheeling over abysses, allowing the rider to stabilize herself and prepare for it.

Instead I felt like I was riding a wild animal or a force of nature, completely unable to predict any of his moves, only able to react as crisis came. My fear of riding him without the mind-speech had not been unfounded at all.

As much as I wanted this, I wondered if Rhylan would be the death of me.