Текст книги "The horde King of shadow"

Автор книги: Zoey Draven

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Sammenth was peering at me carefully.

“I believe they left the shores of Dakkar,” I said quietly. “I believe they sailed across Drukkar’s Sea until they found land. A new home, to begin again. Free. All of this is unproven, of course, and I’m no stranger to the scholars in Dothik laughing at me. But my mother believed what I believe. And I believe they came here. Knowing that there is Dakkari blood here proves that. Now I know how. But there’s still so many questions.”

“And many of them might always be unanswered,” came a familiar voice. “Especially tonight.”

Sarkin.

When I turned my head, I saw he was standing just at the edge of the clearing. There was a mark on his neck, from my own nails, I remembered, the skin just beginning to heal. I felt my body grow even warmer from the sight, coupled with the wine.

Sammenth and Ryena straightened in the presence of their Karath.

“You have an early morning tomorrow,” Sarkin told me. “You need to be well rested. Let’s return home.”

Home.

I hadn’t forgotten about my training beginning, though I had hoped for another day of reprieve. It seemed I wouldn’t get that.

I stood, swaying lightly, and Sarkin stepped forward to take my wrist, pulling me so that his hand was at my back and I was tucked close at his side.

I waved goodbye to Sammenth and Ryena, realizing that Sarkin was right. I’d waited over a decade for answers. Would I be satisfied if I never answered all of them?

I might not have a choice, I knew.

“Are we friends again?” I asked quietly, peering up at Sarkin as he led us away from the dwindling celebration. We passed an older male, snoozing at the table, still laden with food.

In the quiet of the horde, Sarkin said, “You are not my friend, Klara. You are my wife.”

“I can be both,” I said, a little drunkenly. “We can build this to last, you and me, and I think being friends would certainly help. Don’t you think?”

Sarkin stopped in the middle of the pathway. We were alone, everyone either in their beds or still at the feast. “Is that truly what you want?”

I thought about Lishara’s temple. The magic I’d felt there. The raw passion, the ache, the frenzy of it. Of Sarkin’s lips at my throat, his cock deep inside me, my nails digging into him as I’d needed more, more, more.

“Yes,” I said, a little breathless, feeling a flush come on, and I hoped that Sarkin just thought it was from the wine. “That’s what I want.”

Sarkin said nothing.

And we walked back to his—our—stone dwelling at the top of the village in silence.

It didn’t feel like a truce at all.

Yet…right at the doorway, as I turned to look back over the celebration one last time, I heard the quiet words: “I can be your friend, Klara.”

I looked up at him, hope springing in my chest. A stray breeze pushed a wavy lock across his forehead as his dark eyes burned into mine.

“At least, I can try,” he amended, brow furrowed.

I figured that was as good as I’d get tonight.

“Friends,” I agreed.

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Chapter 22KLARA

“This is a jest, surely,” I said quietly under my breath, seeing the small group assembled just inside what Sarkin called the landing field.

It was the field to the west of the village, the same one we’d left yesterday for our ceremony at Lishara’s temple. Only now there was only a single Elthika in the field, sleek with scales of shimmering blue.

A familiar male was standing in front of a group of young adults. No older than eighteen or nineteen. Hell, one of them appeared to be a teenager.

“You will learn with them,” Sarkin informed me, his arm brushing my shoulder when we stopped on the outskirts of the fence. “Lysi?”

He was using my own language to try to charm me?

I wasn’t in the mood. Thanks to the wine from last night’s celebration and my poor decision to continue drinking it with each new opponent, my head was throbbing, my jaw tight.

The rest of my body wasn’t faring so well either. While the majority of the rider burn between my thighs was healing—I could at least walk without feeling like the skin was chafing and raw—I was acutely aware of new aches, courtesy of Sarkin and the blessing that his dragon goddess had bestowed upon us.

In my bath this morning, I’d uncovered bruises from his fingertips, tender red marks where he’d nibbled and sucked, and a sharp ache between my thighs whenever I moved a certain way.

And now…it was my first official day of Elthika riding training.

“I’ll be training with children?” I asked softly, eyeing the group, eleven in total.

“Yes, and you have some catching up to do,” Sarkin informed me unhelpfully, making my head pound even further. “They’ve already been in training for five weeks.”

I shot him a look. I had the distinct impression that Sarkin enjoyed poking at me when I was so obviously grumpy.

“I trust that you’ll handle it,” he told me. “I have to fly north today.”

“Why?” I asked. I had noticed he was in his riding leathers, but since I knew very little about his daily life—or that of the Karag in general—I hadn’t thought much of it.

“Patrol” was all Sarkin said. When I waited, he added, “There was an Elthikan stronghold along the northern coast of the Arsadia. We received word from another Karath that they appear to have left.”

“You want to investigate why,” I guessed.

He inclined his head.

“Does it have to do with the heartstones?” I wondered.

“Perhaps,” he said. “There are so few now. The heartstone’s energy is like the sun to them. They need it. They will instinctively seek out wherever they feel their energy. At least the remnants of it. That’s why we saw that Elthikan horde by Lishara’s temple yesterday. They are new to the territory. And whenever hordes start encroaching…well, Elthika are notoriously territorial and will defend their land if necessary. The Karaths fear another Elthikan war with so many dragon hordes living closer and closer to one another.”

Again I was reminded that there was so much to learn. My gaze went to the familiar male, standing tall in front of the group of young riders, his hands clasped behind his back. Last night I’d seen him speaking with Sarkin when I’d been talking with Sammenth and Ryena. That was why he’d looked so familiar.

Was he to be my instructor? If so, perhaps I could begin my Elthikan education with him, one I desperately needed, as long as he wouldn’t mind my endless questions.

“I didn’t realize that there were territory disputes and politics among the Elthika themselves,” I said. How would I be able to cram in a lifetime of education as quickly as possible?

To anyone else, it might’ve seemed daunting. To me, it was a worthy challenge. I felt a spark of determination light up my chest. Part of my reason for coming here was to learn. To understand the Karag and the Elthika. They were one in the same…but also apart. The Karag didn’t own and care for the Elthika. Not like the Dakkari hordes with their pyrokis. There was a very special and careful relationship between them. And I was beginning to realize that the Elthika were a race all their own, one that worked in tandem with the Karag, not for.

Given what I knew, I could understand why the Karag revered and respected them. Why they spoke of them in such a particular way. There was a healthy mixture of understanding and fear. Because if you feared something, you respected it. Sarkin had alluded to that once.

“Go,” Sarkin urged, pressing his hand to my low back, the heat seeping into the stiff material, and giving me a nudge. “I’ll be back after nightfall.”

It was just after dawn, the Arsadia encampment quiet behind us, especially after the celebration last night.

“Be safe,” I told him, giving a small smile. His eyes flicked to mine. “We’re doing all right at this friend thing, don’t you think?”

It was meant to lighten the mood between us, which still felt a little stilted and strange.

But the moment I said the words, I thought of us at Lishara’s temple, flashes of sensations—pleasurable and intense—returning to me.

What was worse was that I could see Sarkin thinking the same things, remembering the same things.

I cleared my throat, cheeks going warm, and Sarkin let out a growl—one I had the impression he hadn’t meant to make—before taking a step away.

Last night, though he’d slept on the floor with me, in the bed of furs still haphazardly slung onto the ground, with our ankles tied together again, we’d both made an effort to stay as far away from each other as possible.

“I’ll return tonight” was all he replied, and I couldn’t help my sigh when he finally turned away.

There was a group of riders that had assembled—Sarkin’s main wing—down the pathway. Levanth was among them, and I felt my throat go a little tight, blinking when I saw her smile at him in greeting.

She said something to him I couldn’t make out, and I heard his responding chuckle. Jealousy burned in my belly, discomforting but real. I hadn’t expected it to bother me so much. He was my husband now—we were bonded together in his culture and mine.

So why did it bother me that another female—one I knew he’d had a romantic history with—could make him laugh and smile?

You’re being ridiculous, I thought, shaking myself, and I resolutely turned around. Of course she would make him happy. They were old friends and riding partners. I was just a stranger he’d made his queen.

“Ah, Sorrina,” came the voice. I looked up, giving the group of riders and my instructor an uncertain smile as I stepped toward them. Their faces were so serious. One, a girl with stern lips, even looked me up and down, as if sizing me up for competition. “The Karath told me you would begin instruction today.”

“You can call me Klara,” I said, joining the group, realizing that even though they were over a decade younger than me, most still towered over me.

The male shook his head. “I will call you Acolyte, for that is what you are now.”

I nearly gulped.

“You may call me Kyavor,” he said. “I’ll be your riding instructor. Now, fall in line with the rest of the acolytes.”

I swallowed down the sudden knot of nerves in my throat, suddenly apprehensive about what the day would bring.

“Yes, Kyavor.”

By nightfall, it hurt to even move and Ryena was patiently and courteously listening to my whining as she mixed together more salve. Sammenth, on the other hand, was trying to stifle her laughter.

“And then the look she gives me,” I said, my eyes wide, a soft chuckle filling Ryena’s home, which she shared with her sister when she was in the Arsadia. “You’d think I’d committed a grave atrocity against her.”

“Vyaria is a blood-born rider,” Sammenth informed me behind her sly smirk. “She’ll be harsh, even to you. During rider training, rank doesn’t matter. You’re all equal. It’ll be her one and only chance to chastise her queen, and she likely knows it.”

“I noticed she doesn’t have a tail,” I said quietly. “The majority of them don’t.”

“Most are blood borns. It’s the easiest way into rider instruction, especially with Kyavor. He’s one of the greats. Even the Karath from the North will send his acolytes to be trained by Kyavor some years, if they show any great potential.”

Vyaria, the blood-born rider, had nearly sent me scurrying from the training grounds in shame that afternoon. I’d been partnered with her to do practice mounts. Kyavor had placed an Elthika harness—with no extra padding—on a boulder in the very center of the river. Off of a ledge that jutted out near the stone, we were expected to jump onto the saddle and secure ourselves into place.

With the rushing river, it was our partner’s job to ensure that we didn’t get caught up in the current if we missed the mount. One time, I swore that Vyaria had been debating whether to throw me the tether to save me before I’d tumbled over the waterfall’s edge. Only at the very last moment had she thrown me the braided leather.

“Well, this blood-born rider wants to kill me,” I deadpanned.

“Ahh, I miss the afternoons of river mounts,” Sammenth said, her tone wistful. “When you’ve barely enough strength to hold on to the harness, much less fight the current. One of the acolytes during my year went over the falls. They don’t put the net out yet to catch the riders. He was unconscious for the rest of the day.”

I nearly shuddered, remembering my fall off the cliffside in Sarroth. If I thought I’d been tired after riding Zaridan for nearly three days straight, I’d been sorely mistaken. My limbs felt like jelly. I was scared to stand up in case my knees gave out.

And tomorrow! Gods, how would I ever survive?

“Finished,” Ryena announced, spooning the last of the fresh salve into the jar for me, the reason why I’d come in the first place.

“Kakkira vor,” I murmured. “Thank you.”

“I’ll have more ready for you tomorrow,” she promised, patting my shoulder. “Try to stay alive until then. Or at the very least, try not to let a little acolyte murder you.”

“She wouldn’t murder me,” I said. At least I didn’t truly believe so.

“She just wouldn’t save you if she could,” Sammenth cackled, snickering. “On Muron’s strength, I don’t miss rider training.”

“You’re still in rider training,” Ryena pointed out.

“I meant I don’t miss the training before I bonded with my Elthika,” Sammenth amended. She looked at me. “It gets better, I promise. During training, all riders are equals, including the blood borns who come from a long line of riders. No favor is given. The instructors don’t make it easy—they don’t believe in that. Hardship creates mental fortitude, discipline, and willpower. All are necessary to bond with an Elthika, and all are necessary to become a rider for the horde.”

“And bonding…how does it happen?” I asked, sliding my elbows onto the table.

“At the end of the season,” Sammenth said, nodding at her sister when the healer brought her a cup of steeped tea, “the riders who are of age are taken to the Tharken cliffs.”

“Of age?”

“Yes, eighteen years and above. You can be in rider instruction as young as twelve though, you just can’t participate in the illa’rosh.”

“At Tharken?”

Samment nodded. “It’s a mountain range, northwest of here, where unclaimed Elthika gather during the silver moon. You’re given the opportunity to bond with an Elthika of your choosing, but they must choose you too. That happens during the first flight. You have to claim an Elthika—without a harness, mind you—and if they accept you, they won’t throw you off their backs so that you plummet to your death. It’s called the illa’rosh.”

My chest squeezed. My first thought was that Sarkin—or Zaridan—wouldn’t let me be thrown off and fall…but I wasn’t so sure. In order to fully be accepted as queen of the Sarrothian, I had to bond with an Elthika. If I was rejected during the first flight…that would make me the queen of nothing. I would lose the respect of Sarkin’s people.

I would lose his if I had it at all.

“How many have been rejected?” I asked, not entirely sure I wanted to know the answer.

Sammenth shared a look with Ryena. The healer set a cup down in front of me, steam curling from the top. She’d told me the tea would help with muscle aches, to help with the pain that would undoubtedly come tomorrow.

“Plenty,” Ryena said. She shook her head, a shiver working its way up her spine. “When Sammenth wanted to be a rider…I swear, I couldn’t sleep for years until she bonded with Orelle.”

Orelle must’ve been Sammenth’s Elthika.

“The Karath’s best friend, when they were younger, was rejected during his first flight,” Sammenth said quietly. “Sarkin had to watch him fall. That, I imagine, is worse.”

“What?” I whispered, shock rooting me into place on the bench.

“That’s not our place to talk about,” Ryena said sharply to her younger sister.

Sammenth breathed in deeply, flashing me a small, apologetic smile. “No one in my kya’rassa was rejected.” I remembered that word. Sarkin had used it once. It meant rider horde, though he’d used it to refer to his best riders, the ones he’d chosen, the ones he trusted to keep the entire horde safe. “It happens less than you think. The Elthika are choosy about their riders, but only a few rejections end in a death fall. Most will return the rider to steady ground. The Vyrin…those are the ones you need to be careful of if you select one.”

“The Vyrin?”

“It’s a name for the ancients, though they aren’t truly old—not in years at least. They are high-ranking Elthika from strong bloodlines. Zaridan is a Vyrin, for example. Vyrins can afford to be very particular about their chosen rider. They’re the ones that are dangerous during a first flight.”

“And…Sarkin’s friend,” I began, “he tried to bond with a Vyrin?”

“Not only a Vyrin. With a direct descendent of Muron,” Sammenth answered.

A jolt went through me. “But Zaridan…”

“Yes,” she replied, inclining her head at me. “He tried to claim her brother.”

“Zaridan’s brother killed Sarkin’s friend?”

Sammenth’s quiet was answer enough, and my brow furrowed, lowering my gaze to the steaming tea.

I took a small sip, the taste bitter, though Ryena had tried to sweeten it with a thick syrup that reminded me of kinu berries.

“How tragic,” I said softly.

“The Karath understands that these things happen. You cannot control an Elthika, just like they cannot control the Karag,” Sammenth answered. “What happened to his friend was tragic but not surprising.”

“And it never should’ve happened in the first place,” Ryena cut in, giving Sammenth a long, lingering, stern look. “Enough now. Drink your tea. Both of you.”

“Yes, Mother,” Sammenth grumbled, but I caught the stray flash of her smile. It was obvious the sisters were close, though Ryena did take on a more parental figure between the two.

I thought of Dannik, a stab of longing to see him, speak with him going through me. I wanted to tell him not to worry. I wondered if such a message was even possible. I wondered about Sora, thinking how I wished our last interaction hadn’t been so tense.

Then I wondered about Sarkin, thinking over the new tiny bit of information I’d gleaned tonight. I couldn’t imagine how helpless I would feel watching someone I cared about falling to their death.

I remembered the look in his eyes that night when I’d fallen over the cliff at his keep in Sarroth. I remembered how he’d dived straight off, without hesitation, to save me.

Every night, he firmly tugged the strap that connected our ankles, like he needed the extra assurance it was tight.

Now I couldn’t help but wonder if he was remembering his friend while he was trying to protect me. The only place I could fall off here was the waterfall, and I’d have to navigate the village carefully to find it. We couldn’t stay tethered in sleep forever.

Under Ryena’s watchful gaze, I took another dutiful sip of my tea.

And I realized that in addition to the Karag, to the Elthika, of which I knew very little about, I could add my husband to that growing list as well.

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Chapter 23SARKIN

Klara gasped when she came awake, seeing me lingering above her.

“Get dressed in your riding clothes and come with me,” I told her.

“You’re back,” she breathed, still groggy. “I’d dreamed…”

“What did you dream?” I wondered, stilling.

She shook her head. “Nothing of the heartstones.” She blinked the bleariness from her eyes. “Is it still night?”

“Yes. We just returned. Hurry.”

Klara didn’t question me, only slid out from beneath the furs, as I tried not to skim my gaze over her legs. As I remembered the way they’d tightened around my hips in Lishara’s temple. I still had her little claw marks down my back. This morning, I’d looked at them in my reflection for longer than necessary.

I decided to wait outside as she dressed, and when she joined me in the cool night air, I led her to the landing field.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she asked, more awake now, though she kept her voice a hushed whisper. The horde was quiet, slumbering.

When we reached the landing field and she saw Zaridan waiting there, her confusion only doubled.

“Kyavor told me you had difficulty mounting today,” I informed her.

Her lips parted in realization, blinking as I swore I caught a flash of embarrassment on her features. “That’s not… It was… You’re keeping watch over me?”

“You are at a grave disadvantage, Klara,” I informed her, rubbing at my tired eyes. I’d been on dragonback all morning, day, and night, trying to track down the missing Elthikan horde, with no luck. I was tired and wanted sleep. But this was important, and I needed her to realize that.

“I’m not training to be a rider, Sarkin,” she said softly. “That’s not my purpose here.”

“But it is your duty to claim an Elthika of your own,” I said, my tone inviting no argument. “You don’t have to ride well, Klara, but you do have to master the basics if you want a mere chance at succeeding. Most Sarrothian riders begin practicing mounts when they’ve barely begun to walk.”

“Is that when you started?” she questioned, going to Zaridan.

The ease with which Zari lowered her head to press into Klara’s palm should’ve been maddening…given how much challenge the Elthika had given me during our bonding process.

“I was not a blood born,” I told her, leaving it at that. “So I know how difficult it is to catch up during instruction…and I even started training at fourteen. You’re over a decade older than your peers.”

“I know,” Klara grumbled, and I didn’t know why that cranky tone tugged on the corners of my lips. “You don’t have to remind me. I know how out of place I am among them.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said, softening my tone. “The silver moon is only a month away…but there are already signs that the Elthika are migrating to the Tharken cliffs, where the first flights take place. You were told about those?”

“Yes, from Sammenth,” she said.

I should have been the one to tell her, I realized, recognizing my failing. She was the first Dakkari to step foot onto Karag soil in centuries. Of course she would have no knowledge of these things like we did about them. We’d been watching them for decades. Even now, there were Karag on Dakkari soil and they were none the wiser.

Know your enemy. Conquer them before they conquer you.

That was one of Elysom’s commands, etched in silver on their capital building in their pristine coastal city.

But the Dakkari weren’t our enemy, were they?

“The first-flight choosing might happen before the silver moon with how restless the Elthika have been lately,” I said. “That’s what I’m saying. So you need to be as ready as you can be. In addition to your lessons with Kyavor, I’ll be training you at night as supplementation. Lysi?”

Klara blew out a sharp breath. “Do I have a choice?”

“No,” I told her truthfully, honestly. “You might be my wife now, Klara, but I will not be easy on you. I will be harder on you than Kyavor would be.”

“You’re worried about me,” she said quietly, realization threading through her tone. “You wouldn’t be doing this otherwise.”

I said nothing.

“You don’t think I have it in me to claim an Elthika of my own,” she guessed next.

My silence felt long and harsh.

“I see,” she said quietly. She looked down to the ground, her hand never leaving Zaridan. “I suppose I cannot fault you for that. And I know I’m no good to you dead.”

My brow furrowed, my body jolting.

“I told you before—don’t say that,” I growled.

“It’s the truth,” she said, shrugging a shoulder. “Let’s at least be honest about it, Sarkin. You need me because you know that I’m your best chance at finding more heartstones for your people and for the Elthika. And in order for that to happen, to remain here, your people have to accept me. You’ll do everything you can to ensure that. I’m not a fool; I’m actually very practical. I know what’s at stake, just like you know there are other reasons why I want to be here.”

The restlessness in my chest grew. Did she really think I was as cold as that?

Of course she does, I thought, shame spreading. I’d never done anything to show her otherwise. Navigating this with her was difficult. Uncertain. I felt out of my element. As Karath, I was in control at all times. With her, I’d never felt so untethered.

I’d always been detached from my lovers, given what I’d experienced growing up. When they drew too closely, I pulled away. I recognized that part of myself. But Klara was my wife now. Just that thought alone brought dark pain rising. I shouldn’t have been surprised that I was struggling to let her in.

I thought this all while knowing that my mother was only one of the wounds that I kept buried deep, enclosed in the unyielding tomb of my chest. How long would it be before Klara wiggled herself inside? How long would it be until she saw the depths of my grief, the scared boy who feared love?

“I haven’t been fair to you,” I said quietly.

Her breathed hitched. “What?”

“I’m not easy, Klara. I know that,” I admitted. “But I do believe in you. If I haven’t told you that before, let me tell you now, in no uncertain terms. I believe that you can do this, aralye.”

“You do?” she asked. My chest squeezed when I heard the quiet hope in her voice.

“Lysi,” I said, inclining my head at her. “I would not lie to you about this.”

She took a deep breath as she studied me. I would’ve given a lot to hear her thoughts at that moment, wondering what she thought of me, wondering what she saw.

Then she flashed me a surprisingly bright smile. “What will you have me do tonight?”

Her quiet determination was impressive.

“You will practice mounting a real Elthika tonight,” I informed her, knowing the best way I could show her I cared was to do everything I could to ensure she succeeded. “No harnesses in rivers. That’s for children.”

“Where?” she asked, trying to hide the mild apprehension in her tone.

I jerked my head up at the mountain behind us. Her neck craned back to take in its spectacular size.

“There.”

“Again,” I said, voice even and calm with my hands tucked behind my back.

She’d been unsuccessful for the last hour, and I could see the overwhelming fatigue on Klara’s features. What impressed me, however, was that she never gave up. Even when she tried to hide the way her arms trembled from the strain of pulling herself onto the harness, over and over again, or the way she swallowed her fright and fear with every leap off the cliffside onto Zaridan’s back.

We were high up on the cliffside, intentionally so. Despite what she might’ve believed, being higher allowed more time to recover her if she happened to topple off Zaridan. If she tumbled off one of the lower cliffs, there wouldn’t be enough time to react before she met the ground. She was wary of heights, I’d realized, which never boded well for a rider. Most Sarrothian overcame that fear very young, but she was a Dakkari. One with the earth, not the sky, as she’d pointed out to me the other night.

I hadn’t realized what a hindrance that would be to overcome.

“Sloppy,” I assessed after I watched her make another attempt, this time barely sliding her leg over the harness, causing her to grapple for the stabilizing bar in a panic.

She was huffing as Zaridan hovered close to the edge of the cliff. She rested her forehead briefly on the bar as she tried to catch her breath.

Though frustration was rumbling in my chest, I knew there was a delicate balance of when to push and when to rest. If I pushed her too hard tonight, she wouldn’t perform well with Kyavor come morning, perhaps losing out on vital skills.

“Enough for tonight,” I said. “Faryn, Zari.”

I heard Klara insist, “I can keep going.”

“No,” I said. Her back hunched, her eyes catching mine. I backed up a few paces and then launched off the cliff, landing behind Klara in the harness.

“You do it so easily,” she observed in defeat as my hand came to her waist. Our bodies jolted forward as Zaridan gusted her wings, circling away from the mountain and back down toward the village.

“I’ve had years of practice,” I said into her ear, my lips brushing the sensitive flesh, my tone coming out gruffer than intended, and I caught her shiver. “Remember that. Today was your first time.”

“I’m not used to doing things not well.”

When Zaridan landed back on solid ground, I thought of Klara’s dagger tossing at the celebration feast. She’d surprised even me.

“Patience,” I said. “We’ll continue tomorrow night. This is one of the most difficult skills you will need to master, and it is the foundation of riding.”

“How long did it take you?”

My second attempt, I thought. But I didn’t tell her that, not wanting her to get discouraged. I’d studied Elthika riders closely when I’d been young. I used to watch them for hours in our village outside Sarroth, long after the sunlight had faded, more as an excuse not to return home than anything.

Most importantly, I’d grown up with an Elthika, even though I was not a blood born.

“Long enough.”

“Gods,” she groaned. “You’re lying to me. That’s exactly what someone would say when it took them no time at all.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” I grunted, tapping on Zaridan’s joint, feeling the vibration as she extended her wing for our descent. “I never pegged you as a pouter.”

“I’m not pouting,” she argued.

“You just don’t like failing,” I finished for her. “I hate to tell you this, aralye, but you will fail more than you will succeed when it comes to the Elthika. The sooner you accept that, the easier time you’ll have. Do not focus on perfection. Focus on consistency. Think like this instead: There is no right way to ride an Elthika. All that matters is that you can.”

Klara was looking up at me, her lips parted, as we both stepped off Zaridan’s wing, onto the earth.

“All that matters is that I can,” she repeated softly, and I saw her consume those words. “I can work with that.”

“Good.”

Then she sighed, bending down to stroke her fingers over the moss-covered dirt.

“If I fail during the first flight,” she began, “will you or Zari let me fall?”

I flinched, the reaction her words brought forth. A flash of Haden’s face flickered to life in my mind, the fear and realization I’d seen, and I squeezed my eyes shut, momentarily trying to dispel that harrowing image.

“What?” I said carefully.

“Never mind,” she breathed, her fist clenching into the earth in finality, as if squeezing that worry away. “The soil is so rich here. So full of life.”