Page 19 of The Keeper of the Kingdoms

She turned, lifting her gaze to mine. Although it felt like she lingered over my body before she rose to meet my eyes.

“We must discuss this,” I insisted. “It’s gone on too long. We have to have the conversation.” My own need to gain the respect of the flyers aside. The call of our bond was almost unbearable. I couldn’t continue in hopeful silence while she brushed it under the carpet.

“I, um—” she mumbled, trying to look away.

I used my finger to bring her chin back up gently so that she met my eyes again. “We must have this conversation,” I said slowly. “It’s not something you can avoid forever.”

“I don’t want to,” she whispered, her bottom lip trembling.

“I know,” I said softly. “Come take a flight with me. We can talk after.”

Just when she’d mellowed, she stiffened again.

Flight seemed to be the biggest issue, a hurdle that weneeded to overcome right now. I tugged her by her hand, not giving her a moment to think about it. “Come.”

We paused outside the cell, locking our research safely away, and she reinstated the wards in the cell corridor that we’d been using for several days now to keep the entire dungeon warded against entry so that we didn’t have to guard it twenty-four hours a day.

I was nervous at first, but these cells were not used by anyone, and now that Nyx was in charge, they would not be used without his knowledge. They were obviously part of Octavian’s private work and now that he was gone, they served no purpose.

When we reached the fresh air of the palace grounds, I slowed down my pace, daring to keep hold of her hand.

When she didn’t withdraw, we strolled hand in hand, comfortable together at last after a week of working side by side.

I’d proved myself to her academically, at least, and while she’d been surprised time after time in the initial days, she seemed to have grown to accept my level of competency in a world she was more familiar with than the world of flyers. I’d even go so far as to say that she felt she now realized that she’d got me all wrong.

We’d shared humor and conversation on many topics. I was interested in her work. I think this surprised her most of all, but she’d grown comfortable sharing her thoughts on so many things with me. It was perfect, except for this glaring problem between us. She wanted nothing to do with flyers and I very much was one.

I decided to just come right out with it.

“What is your problem with flyers?”

She stopped abruptly but I didn’t let go of her hand, so I stopped too, facing her.

“I don’t have a problem with flyers.”

I found irritation rising quickly within me, a mark of thefrustration I had let build up while I was giving her space. So I wasn’t able to control the scoff that came from within.

She looked affronted. “I don’t! Some of my best friends are—” She cut herself off. “Nyx. Nyx is my best friend,” she corrected.

I saw the gaping hole she had revealed with what she didn’t say. Kol had been, too.

I gave her the moment she needed on that before carefully sidestepping it. I didn’t want to make her feel worse by forcing her to examine her grief, but this was the closest I’d managed to get her to address what was becoming a matter of dire importance between us, and I couldn’t let it go.

“I know Nyx is important to you. Which is why he doesn’t count in this. He isn’t a flyer to you. He is your friend. He told me you grew up together since your fathers were both stationed here, so I think we can discount him from your feelings about flyers, don’t you?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I have other friends who are flyers.”

I finally let my frustrations show. “Damn it, Kiera, this isn’t about how many flyers you can call a friend. Once the ale is flowing at the Flaming Pegasus, a friend is a friend. I’m talking about dragons, pegasus, griffins. You can’t deny that you view them a certain way and distance yourself from that side of their lives, friends or not. Why?”

She opened her mouth and then closed it. I was unsure whether she couldn’t think of an answer or if she just couldn’t admit to what the answer actually was to my face.

I sniffed at my armpit. “Do we smell?” I teased.

She wrinkled her nose and I regretted it immediately. Maybe that was it.

“Dragons do have an odor,” she said frankly.

I reeled my head back in shock. This time, I smelled myself for real. “We do not!”

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