Page 30 of Wings of Cruelty and Flame

Varidian kept me entertained with stories about his legion as we flew over the rocky mountains to the forestland on the other side. By the time the rocky peaks below us changed to tall, proud trees, I felt like I knew them—Shula the fearsome warrior who joined the army in disguise as a man to take her sick brother’s place, Nabil who knew every last detail about Ithanysian history and was obsessive about rule following, Aliah who was sweet and generous but never to be underestimated, Fahad who was the oldest of them and the most serious and who once took on a whole enemy legion by himself, and Zaarib, Varidian’s closest friend, who always had a quick remark and a joke to makeeveryone smile even on the bleakest days, but who became fierce with rage when confronted with betrayal.

I was almost excited when we landed in a wide clearing surrounded by trees that had clearly been used for wyvern landing regularly; the grass was churned up underfoot, raked by claws and powerful feet. The landing was terrifying, especially when we flew straight at the ground, but Varidian didn’t release his hold on me, and Makrukh promised not to let me fall, so I survived with only minimal screaming.

Five wyvern already waited for us, every one of them smaller than Makrukh’s mammoth size. One was a sleek burgundy, mounted by a slim woman in burnished orange leather, her headscarf a matching colour embroidered with butterflies. House Hanae’s colours and sigil. I guessed she was Aliah, since the other woman in their group—mounted on a bulky, mean-looking grey—was three times the Hanae woman’s size and built like a warrior of legend, wrapped in sturdy brown leather emblazoned with the hyena of House Fathi from forested Earlsorn.

The three men were so different I’d never expect to find them all together. A tall, straight-backed man with light brown skin and a rat-like face sat astride a dark green wyvern almost as sleek as Aliah’s. Judging by the self-important look on his face, he must be Nabil. Fahad’s wyvern lounged in the grass beside Nabil’s, a wizened crimson that wore scars across their scales, much like their ageing rider wore scars on his skin, his arms bare to show them like trophies. Where both men sat straight, proud, the third lounged like an imperious prince, a smile already crossing his face when we landed beside him.

“Took you long enough,” he called to Varidian. “Did you stop for pastries on the way, prince?”

Varidian’s best friend, Zaarib, wore the black and silver colours of House Kissami, a massive fox branded into his leatherchest plate. Long black hair was worn loose to fall over his shoulders, his face youthful and bright for a man who had to be nearing forty. His voice shot through me like a knife. His smile cut deeper. But the sight of him lounged on his golden wyvern without a care in the world, joking,laughing,made me see red.

This was the man who slaughtered my cousin, my only friend.

My mind emptied of everything but the memories. I forgot I was afraid of heights. I drew one of the knives Varidian pinned to my body, tensed on Makrukh’s back, and leapt into open air.

The golden wyvern sailed closer, and so did the man I planned to murder.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

VARIDIAN

Iknew this meeting could be awkward as Ameirah found her place among us and my friends got to know how funny and clever my wife was. I didn’t expect her to launch herself fearlessly from Mak’s back and try to murder my best friend.

“Ameirah!” I yelled, panic driving my heart into an erratic beat. “Zaarib, don’t let her fall.”

He shot me an outraged look. “I’ll just let her murder me, shall I?”

“Get me as close as you can without pissing off Dahab,” I urged Mak, a knot tightening in my stomach as I watched my wife dangle from the golden wyvern by one hand, her other clutching a knife I strapped to her body an hour ago.

Fuck, what washappening?

“Drop the knife,” I shouted as Mak lunged closer to Dahab’s side. “Ameirah, drop the knife and hold on with both hands.”

“No,” she growled.

Shit. I locked eyes with Zaarib when he leant over the side of his golden wyvern, looking at Ameirah as she dragged herself higher, feet grappling against scales. Utterly fearless.

“If she falls, I’ll be the one killing you,” I warned him, standing on Makrukh’s back, assessing where I’d need to jump to catch her, where I’d need to hold onto Dahab’s scales to stop our fall.

“What are youdoing,madwoman?” Shula barked, lunging towards us on her bulky grey wyvern.

“Stay back,” I warned them, my heart pounding as they all closed in, like Ameirah was an enemy. “I’m serious, what the fuck is wrong with you? That’smy wife.”

They’d distracted me long enough for Ameirah to reach Zaarib where he sat astride his wyvern. Dahab flung his long golden neck from side to side, sensing a threat to his rider. My stomach dropped. It sank lower when Ameirah whipped her arm around and drove the short knife into my friend’s shoulder. He gave me a look over the top of her head to sayreally?

“Mak,” I breathed, a frozen calm settling over me when Dahab bucked suddenly, Ameirah’s hold on his scales tentative. Makrukh dove, angling his head toward the golden wyvern’s side. Dahab shrieked his rage, surging into the air, wriggling to knock Ameirah off his back. The noise was deafening. Terrifying with my wife’s life literally hanging in the balance.

The clearing disappeared, my vision narrowed to where Ameirah had one hand on the knife in Zaarib’s shoulder, one hand braced on the wyvern’s scales. I realised all at once that I didn’t want to lose her. Our marriage might be new, and I might have only scratched the surface of our relationship, but I couldn’t stand the thought of her dying before I knew the rest of her, before I’d spent years at her side.

When Dahab shot into the air, his neck winding in a warning that made everyone else back off except me, I knew a fall from that height could break Ameirah’s neck.

Panic tasted like blood on my tongue. I watched her fingers slip, watched blood coat her hands, making her hold slick. Her weight shifted, pulling the knife from Zaarib’s bleeding shoulder, spilling red over his clothes, and—she fell.

“Mak!”

He shot forward, his head lashing through the air, ivory wings thunderous as they carved across the clearing. A growl of rage made him shake beneath me. I watched Ameirah fall in slow motion, watched the knife tumble from her fingers, her face bleached by fear as her rage faded at once.

I stopped breathing. When Zaarib twisted dangerously in his seat and snagged her arm, a hard breath punched out of me. He stopped her fall long enough for Mak to close the distance. His side slammed into Dahab’s, drawing another screech from the gold wyvern. Mak opened his jaws so wide I feared he’d unleash a cloud of fire here in the woods androared.It was a sound of protection and defiance and fury for anyone who would hurt his rider. Because Ameirah was his rider now, too.

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