“No more complaints,” a male voice muttered, the words muffled somewhat by the mists that still draped the trees like wedding lace, the edges beginning to glow now as the sun threatened to rise. “Evenyoucan’t fly on a breakfast of a whole bull.”
That deep rumble sounded again, but this time overlayed with a soft chug. A huff.
A dragon’s laughter?
Taking deep, silent breaths to steady myself, I slowly nudged a branch of the sucklebrush back, so I could peer past it.
Furyknight.
The man who had appeared to join the dragon, was dwarfed standing at its shoulder.
He was clothed in dragonhide cut to such perfection it molded to his skin. Ruin had told me, the day he appeared similarly attired, that the leather was the legendary final gift of the ancient dragonfuries to their human warriors.
Dragonhide was thin and felt soft to the touch. Yet it would keep a body warm in the coldest chill of winter—even in the glacial wind of flight high above the clouds. It was flexible enough not to impede a warrior’s movement, while nearly impenetrable, deflecting all except the sharpest metal-tipped arrows, and providing critical protection from fire as well.
Diamond-tipped tools were used to cut it.
The hood that fell from the nape of the man’s neck was used to keep ears from becoming frostbitten in flight, and for deflecting dragonflame in battle. There were ties threaded through it so it could be gathered around the Furyknight’s face. I knew, because I’d used them once to pull Ruin to me and—
The sight of the beautiful man in those leathers conjured a memory that made my heart sing—and crushed it in the same breath.
Ruin, two years earlier, standing proudly in the golden warmth of the late evening sun that pierced the slats and poured through the upper windows of the barn.
Feet shoulder-width apart and encased in thick, black boots. Hands loose at his sides, but open—poised for action. Chest swelling with pride. Chin high and blue eyes bright, gleaming with smug satisfaction and ambitious thrill. His sandy hair tousled in the way only the wind could achieve.
He’d beenChosen. His dragon had named himTalon.
I was so awed by the sight of him in those legendary leathers that at first, I was afraid to approach. He had never looked so handsome. Or so utterly out of reach.
When I hesitated, his smile broadened from smug, to amused.
“Come here! Touch it, Bren! Feel how soft it is—yet I gamble you couldn’t pierce it, even with the hay fork.” He beckoned me forward, and after a painful swallow, I inched forward like a child, reaching out with a trembling hand.
When my fingers brushed that strange, slick hide, something crackled under my palm. I couldfeelthe power of the creature from whom it had been taken. And yet, I wanted to weep, suddenly certain those same creatures would take my love from me—
I blinked, pushing the memory away.
The dragonfury’s eyes stayed on mine for long seconds as it stepped over the edge of the bowl in the earth and began down the slope to its middle, the man trotting at its side and mumbling further warnings not to complain.
They were the first to arrive, but they would not be the last. Soon, a legion of dragons and their Furyknights would gather here to be blessed, then take off into the skies. They wouldn’t return for months. Perhaps years.
One of those men was named Ruin.
He named his furyCarnage,which was fitting. Because the arrival ofCarnagein Ruin’s life had been the harbinger of destruction in mine.
My heart pounded as the dragon and his knight circled the bottom of that depression in the earth. The fact that the man hadn’t looked at me meant the dragon knew I was here, but he hadn’t told his knight, despite the fact that I knew they could speak to each other in their minds.
Thank you,I thought, praying the fury could hear me.Thank you. God bless you on your journey. And please… keep Ruin safe.
If he heard me, he didn’t answer. But he shook his head in that oddly canine way again.
Tearing my eyes from him, I made myself walk deeper into the wood, found a hollow between tree roots, and sank to the dirt, leaning back on the rugged tree with a sigh.
I would rest here and wait for the legion to arrive. Then I’d find Ruin and tell him I forgave him. Kiss him. Whisper my love and prayer that he’d return.
My eyes grew heavier and heavier as I turned it all over in my mind—how I would tell him everything had been a mistake. And reassure him that when he returned, he’d be welcomed by me, and into my home…
I woke, blinking against bright, morning sun piercing the forest canopy overhead, to the sound of a masculine whisper and a soft giggle.
