That wasn’t what immediately calmed me, though. The thing that washed through my middle and wiped away all of my apprehension was her choice of words. The same ones Nyfain had used in his letters.
I wanted him to be here with us. I wanted him to guide us, not them.
I wanted him to quit fucking pushing us away.
Ami and Claudile’s questions had shaken something loose in me. I didn’t give a shit what kind of life Nyfain wanted for me. I’d always pursued the things I wanted, the opinions of others be damned. I would not sacrifice that now. Not even for him.
One day, somehow, I would fly with him. The curse might have stripped him of his wings, but there had to be a way to undo what had been done. There had to be a way to heal him.
That was all in the future, though. For now, I would need to settle for him being with me in spirit.
My dragon reached out through the bond even as I did, both of us leaning deeply across the distance he was trying to put between us to yank him back. I clutched him to me in an iron grip, feeding him the rage he’d so often shoved at me. Pissed that he was stupid enough to assume that I’d gone through everything—finding a cure for the illness, allowing the demon king to imprison me, enduring torture—just to leave him behind. To leave my family behind.
Did he even know me?
I pumped rage into the bond even as I pulled power from him.
His answering swirl of mirth made my stomach flutter. My rage made him smile, just as his rage always turned me on.
My dragon was feeding them her own collection of emotions: excitement, anticipation, impatience.
They likely knew what was about to happen. Nyfain’s dragon did, at any rate, because in a moment I felt a different sort of power flow through the bond. A controlled gush, tingling and alive.
My stomach dropped out, as though I had just jumped off a mountain and was free-falling.
“Fuck, here we go,” I murmured, eyes squeezed shut. “What do I do?”
“If you’d just wait a moment, we’ll explain—”
Ami cut Claudile off. “No. She isn’t talking to us.”
Damn right she isn’t, my dragon thought, giddy now. Get ready to move out of my way. I’m going to follow the dragon’s prompting and surge to the surface. His power will guide us…I think. I’ll figure it out. But when I make a move, you make a move, get it? If you fuck up and don’t relinquish control in time, we’ll die horribly.
Nice melodrama, asshole.
Thanks. Sometimes I have to go overboard to get through to you.
I rolled my eyes while I still had the power to do so. Soon she’d be in charge of all body mechanics. Soon we’d be in the air.
Oh fuck.
Nervousness and adrenaline rippled through me, followed by another surge of Nyfain’s mirth. He was either feeling joy at being here with me through the bond, helping from a distance, or he was laughing at me. Maybe both. Next, though, I felt a surge of unwavering support and confidence from him. He had complete faith this would go fine.
Power pulsed within me now, hot and then cold. Hard thrusts, followed by a trickle. The tingling increased. Butterflies filled my stomach. I could feel Nyfain through the bond as distinctly as if he were right beside me, holding my hand at the edge of a great precipice. In my mind’s eye, he was looking over at me, the wind ruffling his unruly hair, the sun glinting off his sharp cheekbones. His golden eyes sparkled as he willed me to jump. Willed me to follow his lead, put my faith in my dragon, and take the leap.
Ready? my dragon asked.
I took a deep breath. I thought of Nyfain’s gorgeous golden eyes, with the flares of deep orange streaking from the pupil. I felt his confidence, and yes, his joy. His happiness to be with me, even like this, during my first shift. During my first flight.
You better not fucking kill us!
I relinquished control. I left myself open for her to surge up and push me out of the way. It wasn’t like it would be the first time, only this time I wouldn’t claw my way back to the surface.
Barely able to breathe, I waited as she built power, heeding the dragon’s guidance. She pulsed it just so. She feathered it. And then, in a blinding flash, she surged out.
Two lines of pain erupted down each side of my back, less painful than the officers’ whip cracks but covering slightly more ground. My scales, I knew.
My stomach flipped, and then it wasn’t my stomach anymore. My dragon exploded to the surface and, with her, the essence of Nyfain’s dragon. More pain crackled along my skin.
Child’s play, my dragon thought, and it was. We’d learned a new meaning of pain in Dolion’s castle.