Page 70 of Wings of Cruelty and Flame

“What?”

My stomach jolted when he lowered his belly to the grass in a slow, careful motion, almost fluid. He clearly expected me to do something, turning his head back to look at me, coaxing me with a soft rumble.

“Varidian?” I shouted down, the ground still insurmountable even with Mak lying as flat as possible.

“He says to grab his horn and climb onto his head, then he’ll set you on the ground.”

When Mak brought his head close, I saw his plan.

“Don’t drop me if I faint with pain,” I said breathily, gritting my teeth against what was sure to be blistering agony when I released my hold on his spike and leaned across the small distance to grasp his horn. The lash of pain was so severe that tears stung my eyes and bled down my cheeks. My breath shattered. Mak gave me a soft, encouraging sound, nothing but concern in his eyes. I locked my jaw, stifled the scream that wanted to burn my tongue, and hauled myself onto his head between his horns by sheer force of will.

Mak lowered me quickly, sliding me into Varidian’s arm. Tears flowed so thickly I barely saw my husband before he lifted me into his arms, his lips on my forehead, leaving kisses and reassurances against my skin.

“Wait,” I managed to slur through a fog of pain. “Something’s wrong… blue wyvern.”

She made a soft sound in response and through my blurry eyes it looked like she held out her foot. There was something on her claw… Had she been injured? No, Varidian supported me with one arm for a moment, ripping the thing from her claw.

“Shit,”he hissed, severe enough that I jolted.

“What?” Unconsciousness was going to take me. Even speaking caused a flare of pain so bad that black spots crowded my vision, but I wanted to know what was wrong.

“It’s a leaflet. Says the same bullshit the clergy did in Wyfell. If you have information about the lightning soul, inform them. If you’re found harbouring it, you’ll be seen as just as guilty.”

“They found us here,” I sobbed, fear cinching my chest.

When Varidian began to walk, blackness closed around me, but I held on long enough to hear his reply.

“Not yet, it’s only a leaflet. But it’s only a matter of time before those dark clergy come here, too.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

AMEIRAH

Apiece of straw jabbing into the side of my neck woke me up. I became aware of scents first—hay and manure and hot iron. Was that the metallic tang of blood? After that came the sensations of straw pressing against me everywhere, comfortable except for stray pieces that had decided to pierce my skin, and… my shoulder was wet, my clothes stuck to me. Was it raining? Had I been left outside? What the hell happened?

I cracked my eyelids apart—and jolted at the huge silver eyes that stared at me, like the world’s creepiest stalker. They were twenty times the size of fae eyes. My breath caught, and I winced at the answering twinge in my ribs. My ribs…fuck,the carnage at Wyfell! The man murdered in the square, the chaos and crush of fleeing civilians, the blast of fire from wyverns circling in the sky. The emerald that had cut me off, knocked me down and… the silver-blue that had saved me. My wyvern.

I had a wyvern. That was insanity. It was impossible. I was too dangerous, too much an abomination to call a wyvern. And yet… here she was, staring unblinkingly at me, her scaly snout less than a foot away from my face.

“I know you saved me,” I said, my voice croaking, my throat dry, “but we need to set a few ground rules. First of all, if you can see all the way up my nostrils, you’re too close.”

She snorted. Her hot breath fanned my hair back from my face.

“Second, I can only assume you kidnapped me from my husband, because he’s a little protective and no way would he leave me in a barn.”

“She took you from my arms and refused to let you go,” the man himself cut in, his voice low and dry but… raspy. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, pushed the straw away from my neck, and manoeuvred myself upright. Varidian leaned against the stall door watching me, his eyes ringed in the same shadows as when he returned from the storm. “There’s no arguing with a wyvern, even for a gentry and fae.”

“Are you alright?” I asked, propping myself against the wall, testing my ribs with slow, small breaths. I felt better than I had when I climbed down from Mak at least. I could have done without the poking straw and the… drool on my shoulder. Lovely.

“AmIalright?” he demanded, his eyes flashing with something sharp and brittle. “You fell off Mak into my arms and then passed out. You have two fractured ribs, three bruised ribs, and I can’t stand to think about how much pain you must have been in the whole flight.”

Each word was bitten off and tight. Angry.

I used the wall at my back to pull myself to my feet. The wyvern helped, nudging her face against me when I wavered, helping me approach the stall door. I stroked her warm scales inthanks, then reached for Varidian, one hand on his shoulder, the other moulding to his stubbled cheek.

“Why are you so angry?”

“Why am I—” His nostrils flared, his whole body as tight as a bowstring. “We shouldneverhave gone to Wyfell. I should have flown you straight here where it’s safe—”

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