Page 215 of Scourged

To Kreah, the desert nation just over Onita’s western border.

The sun was scorching as it beat against the gleaming silver-gold scales of her back. It grew stronger as they flew toward the rust-colored sands looming just over the horizon.

A hot updraft bludgeoned the undersides of her wings, rocking her violently to the side. The cargo she carried shifted precariously across her back, surprised cries reaching her ears. More warm liquid pooled between her shoulders. Blood.

Feran’sblood.

Mariah unleashed a guttural roar and beat her aching wings, fighting against the wind to right herself.

It was a battle between a beast of the skies and the wind itself. With more effort than she had left to her, Mariah twisted her body, correcting herself. She leveled off over the increasingly arid land, trying to ignore that sticky warmth sinking beneath her scales.

Her wings faltered with the next beat, and the ground grew closer.

A hand pressed against the armored skin at the base of her neck just as a steady presence brushed over her mind. Like rocks beneath the waves, unmoving and strong. She cracked open their bond at the request.

“You need to rest, Mariah. We’ve flown far enough; take us down.”

She gritted her teeth against Sebastian’s words.“No. We still aren’t to Kreah. We have to make it—for Feran.”But just as she thought the words, a small splattering of buildings appeared in the hazy distance. A small village or trading outpost on theKreah border, a resting place for weary travelers braving the barren lands bordering Onita and Kreah.

Her eyes sharpened on a well in the center of the ring of structures. And despite her pain-fueled resolve … she wavered.

This place must have a resident healer. Someone who could stabilize Feran, at least until they could get him real help.

More minds brushed her own. They must’ve seen the outpost, too.

“You must rest, Mariah. Don’t push yourself too hard,”Trefor said, repeating words he’d said to her in all those training sessions.

“M, it’s hot! You have to land. And this form is badass, but I’m starting to chafe.”Mariah chuffed at Quentin. Not quite a laugh, but as close as she could bring herself.

Her resolve broke with the third voice.

“Please, Mariah. Feran—he is so cold. He’s lost so much blood. We need to get him help, now, while we can.”Drystan paused, fear and heartbreak and pain washing down his bond.“And don’t forget your father and brother. They’re not well. They need water and rest, and they need you. Your family—all of us—need you.”

With a shudder, Mariah angled her wings toward the village, and let the hot winds spiral her down to the burning sands below.

People watchedfrom the stoops of their stone houses as Mariah’s taloned claws met the sands, their jaws slack as her exhausted body slammed heavily into the ground.

“We need a healer!” Drystan bellowed, sliding from her back. “Do you have a damnedhealer?”

Stunned silence greeted them. Mariah lifted a lip and snarled, shattering fatigue pulling her into the sand.

She supposed there was no better way to announce the return of the dragons than one on their doorstep. But still, she needed these people to fuckingmove.

Another growl rumbled low in her throat just as the crowd parted.

“Out of my way!” A rather bedraggled looking man shoved through his neighbors, head wrapped in a scarf to combat the blistering heat. The rest of Mariah’s Armature and her family slid from her back, Drystan catching Feran with Matheo’s help. The healer’s already wide eyes bulged in his face, but he swallowed down his shock as only a healer could.

“This way,” he commanded. “Get him this way, to my clinic.” Drystan and Matheo hurriedly followed the man, Feran limp between them, and disappeared into the crowd.

Mariah finally allowed herself to breathe.

She closed her eyes. She was cracking, breaking. There’d been no moment of rest, no moment of grief, because she’d fearedthis.This collapse. When her losses would become her identity, and she’d drift like a star far from home.

A warm hand pressed against her cheek. She lifted a heavy, scaled brow and met a familiar handsome face and concerned hazel eyes, brown hair tousled from the wind.

“It’s okay, Mariah. You can let go. We’ve got you.”

She tried to hold herself together. To breathe in the hot desert air, to relax the tense muscles of her wings.