The big red Dragon chortled a laugh, and his talons tightened where they held onto the base of my wings.You’ll fucking tackle an evil Sorceress, but are afraid of a little flying lesson.
Well, it’s my first flight.
Second,he corrected.
That time barely counted,I grumped.
Do not drop her, Dragon, or I will be displeased,Iskar said. The Gryphon regularly participated in our discussions now.
I’ll peck your eyes out.Marcus flew in Gryphon form to our right. Kiko clung to his back, looking anything but happy.
Gryphons do not peck,Iskar protested.
“Couldn’t I have watched from the ground?” Kiko clutched the spikes tighter.
Marcus laughed. “We are a t-team. And t-teams stay t-together.”
We were. We’d taken off from the academy building only minutes ago. As a mated quad, the headmaster had grudgingly granted us our own accommodation on the fourth floor. Kiko still had quarters on the dorm level until we finished basic training and moved up to advanced.
I don’t fucking need training,Havoc groused. For only the first time that day.
We know you’re perfect, no need to point it out.Rafael was seated on Havoc’s neck, his long hair blowing in the wind.
Havoc turned his head to shoot him a look.Watch it, wizardling. I can get fucking unpleasant to ride.
Havoc took the fine art of being difficult to—hmm—a fine art. Getting him to classes was a daily chore that Rafael seemed well suited to. He managed to talk the red Dragon out of his temper tantrums, most of the time.
It helped that everyone knew he could make it an order and be obeyed. But Rafael hadn’t crossed that line again. And the longer he resisted, the easier it became for him.
The Liberi Elders had reluctantly backed off now that he was mated—so long as we all agreed to attend the academy, under Cara’s guidance. I figured she had her fill of powerful people to keep an eye on.
You going to hang around here all day?Havoc asked.
No. No, I wasn’t. I needed to get a grip.
If you want to be a real Dragon, little bird, you have to learn to fly.From his perch above me, Rafael shot me what was meant to be an encouraging look, but it was a bit ruined by the death grip he had on Havoc’s spikes.
Fang, on the other hand, had decided that flying was fun. She perched on top of Rafael’s head with her rearmost legs anchored in his hair. Her forelimbs were spread sideways, as if to embrace her own wings. Every so often, the wind carried her excited trills to me.
Wish I had her confidence,Rafael commented, shifting his grip.
Marcus—or rather Iskar—opened his wings and soared, but it was Marcus that answered.You pulled out handfuls of my feathers last flight.
You worry about thinning hair?Rafael asked.
Centaurs do not suffer from baldness,came the slightly stilted reply.And neither do Gryphon.
Did I hit a nerve?Rafael’s lips curled upward.
Focus, or she’ll go splat.Iskar was excellent at driving home a point.
Okay, Dreambit. I’m letting go on the count of three,Havoc warned.
I nearly panicked. My wings, a glossy, jet-black, stretched out on either side of me, but so far all I’d done was glide along while Havoc did all the work of flying.
Your Dragon knows how to soar,Havoc told me.All you have to do, is let it.
That sounded far easier than it surely was.
