Tears pricked my eyes at the conviction in her, but there was no time to cry as her back rose beneath me.
‘We don’t have much time because I must glide for this portion. Let your feet drop and widen, slot them into the ridges of my wings. Then, when you’re unclipped, slide down and hold on!’
It was awkward, and a little bit terrifying. But at least this time it felt solid under me. I took my weight on shaking knees, sliding my feet into those ridges between her shoulders and her wing bones. It took two tries with my small hands to release the catch on the large clip, but I did it, and immediately sank to grip the spine above Akhane’s withers.
With a high, bugling cry she told the skies that we had won. And with her neck upright like that, I could lean in, and I did. I pressed my cheek against the warm, flat scales, and prayed this would be over soon.
‘No, Bren. Sit up. Open your eyes. Look!’
Numbly, I did as she asked, if only so the men wouldn’t know how close they’d come to finishing me. But when I blinked away the tears and looked ahead, my jaw went slack.
We were closer to the coastline now, following the rough edge of the land, still so high up the only sound was the rush of the wind, and thewhomphof the dragon’s wings. But far below, crashing waves pounded cliffs and sounds, and sometimes the deep boom reached us.
Looking up, the sky was mostly clear, just a scattering of clouds to highlight the deep, rich blue of bright day.
The other dragons had dropped behind us, Ronen and Gil and the net strung between their dragons following closest, but well below—ready to move and catch me if I was lost. But with Akhane under me and my knees hooked in those ridges, it was the most secure I’d felt since I had feet on the ground.
Resting my hands on the small spines that rose from her shoulders, I was able to sit and watch and absorb the beautiful ocean, the dazzling sun, and the rugged terrain of Vosgaarde off to our left. To my delight, that feeling of freedom I’d experienced when I stood returned. This time with a gentle peace underlying it that came from my dragon.
For a moment, I closed my eyes andfelt her,let myself travel the bond and find her—warm and wise, her body vital and thriving. Strong, yet gentle. Her heart the fierce heart of a warrior, with the equally fierce nurturing love of a mother.
Tears sprang to my eyes again and I wanted to curse myself, but instead I let my head tip back and continued to sense her—to feel the blood rushing in her veins, to marvel at that intense, volcanic heat that burned within her and kept her scales glowing like the embers of a fire. And I felt a knot, deep in her chest, a coil of pain and fear that was—
‘There is no heart in this broken world that has not taken a wound, Bren. You and I, we share the bond of pain.’
I swallowed hard, blinking. How was it I hadn’t considered that my beautiful dragon might have fears, or wounds?
‘I’m sorry, Akhane, I’ve only thought of myself. I didn’t—’
‘I know your heart, Bren. Don’t be distressed. We have our lives to share. This is not a moment for grief. This is a moment for joy. Open your eyes, Little Flame. Find it.’
And, as if she’d nudged me, I felt my eyes pop back open and the defensive wall that had slipped over my heart to bury me in shadows was suddenly broken. As if Akhane had bowled through the stone ceiling—bricks and mortar exploding from her passage—to allow sunlight to pour into the shadows where I crouched.
I laughed with joy. My heart leaped as the wind tugged at my braids and the sun kissed my skin. The whole world and the problems that came with it fell away, remained distant. There was nothing here but beauty and abandon.
Thiswas living. Pain or fear would walk my body every day. But this…thiswas freedom.
I grieved when Akhane said it was time to return home, and eased back and down until she was positioned over that net. I cursed when Ronen gave the order for me to tip off her and drop to the net. But I knew, there would be no more flying, no more training, no morefreedomunless I did as they said. So when he told me to throw my limbs wide and let myself fall, I did. I landed on my back on the net, bounced once, then bobbed to astop in the net, laughing like a I’d gone simple in the head. But it felt like falling into a loosely pitched haystack.
And as I followed instructions and rolled onto my stomach, the two dragons finally drew close together and the sides of the massive net pulled up, twining and twisting, caging me again. But I barely felt it.
I had beenflying.
And I was determined to do it again every day of my life, no matter what it took.
Half an hour later, eyes screwed tightly shut at Harle’s suggestion, I curled into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest as the net dragged along the thick stalks of a grain field just beyond the Dragon Keep.
There was a glancing blow to my shoulder and some scraping on the vest, a rock that banged my hip and the sound of the grains whipping along the net and my clothing—then finally we jerked to a halt.
I didn’t move for a moment. The world seemed very quiet without the rush of wind thundering in my ears for the first time in… as long as I could remember.
A weight lifted and I opened my eyes to find Ronen standing over me, a length of the net dangling from one fist, beaming down at me.
“You did it, Bren,” he said, his smile growing.
Pushing up to sit, I watched the dragons ease themselves back to earth, back-flapping and shaking their heads as they came in to land.
And then I heard her.
