Page 144 of House of Ashes

Then I thought about what he’d said. My eyes shot open. “Will a wyvern-rider be taking me back?”

I hadn’t seen Mykah since the first night in the inn. Elinor had told me, in one of our rare conversations, that Doric had ordered her back to the eyrie, where she would be…if not safe, then at least safer.

But if her wyvern was willing and able to accept a ferryman’s sling, I’d be happy to ride with her. I was still curious about the little draga who didn’t know her House and wanted to bring it back.

“What? No, of course not.” Rhylan chuckled against my ear. “Doric has spare saddles in his eyrie. He’s bringing one here and you’ll fly on me, of course.”

“On you? With all of…this…going on?” I pulled out of his grasp and waved a hand at the patchwork on his body, which was admittedly healing quite rapidly. The stitches were already beginning to sink into healthy new flesh that had grown overnight. “We can’t possibly.”

“Oh, but we can,” he growled, bringing me back to his chest with a hard jerk of my shoulders. “The wounds are closed, Sera. Cryla is going to remove the rest of the stitching tonight. I’m not going to spill my guts all over the Krysiens.”

“So you say.” My mouth was pressed against his warm chest, muffling my words. “I’ll go by wyvern, or not at all. I’m not risking you again before you’re well.”

“Really?” he asked in mock outrage, giving his head a little shake. “What happened to ‘where you go, I go’?”

I braced my hands on him—gently, ever mindful of the stitches—and glared up into his face. “You know perfectly damn well that’s not what I mean. Kalros almost gutted you. The last thing you need is to bear the weight of a rider and a harness.”

“Cryla declared me perfectly capable of flight as of ten minutes ago. And you’re nothing compared to a harness. You’ll be of no more mind than a flea.”

“A flea?” I asked through gritted teeth. The absolute indignity of being compared to the same pests who had made my life hellish for four years.

“A very lovely flea,” he amended.

A scowl creased my brows before I could stop it. “There is absolutely no way I’m riding back on you, or helping you into your harness, or…how dare you compare me to a flea?”

A grin flashed across his lips. “I dare, princess.”

“I’ll go speak to the wyvern-riders after dinner. One of them will accept the ferry payment for bringing me home.” With storm clouds still hovering over my head, I tried to push past him.

Rhylan was an immovable wall, not giving so much as an inch.

“We don’t need to bring the wyvern-riders into this. I’m your dragon. You’re riding back on me, or we’re not going back at all.”

“I’m not risking you again,” I growled at him.

“Just fucking ride me, Sera,” he hissed back, abruptly leaning down so we were eye to eye.

A moment passed, then another. My mouth twitched against my will. “Not with an audience. I like to keep it private.”

Rhylan’s intense glare became a smile, then a leer. “All the more reason to be home by morning then, isn’t it?”

I sighed wordlessly, and touched the line of stitches that ran from his collarbone, across the expanse of a pectoral muscle, and over his ribs. The skin was healing, scarring.

Even I could see that the stitches needed to be removed tonight; his dragonblood would accelerate the end of the process without impediments.

“You are too stubborn for your own good, you know that?”

Rhylan caught my hand, pressing it flat to his chest and covering it with his own. “You’re one to talk.”

The solid, steady thump of his heartbeat against my palm was soothing. I thought I felt my own heart changing its pace, slowing to match his rhythm. Which was sheer wishful imagination, but…a draga could always dream.

“Fine. I’ll ride you home.” I looked up at him from under my lashes. “And elsewhere.”

“We never did get to finish what we started on the map,” he mused.

I covered my mouth to hide my smile as one of the healers stepped into the private courtyard, helping one of the injured dragons. He had been given crutches, one of his legs splinted from the calf down.

“Let’s go eat,” Rhylan said, draping an arm over my shoulders. “You need a rest, Sera.”

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