Page 25 of Ties of Frost

The priest continued on his way.

Kyrundar turned to me, the look on his face somewhere between smug and amused.

I shook my head and started back down the nave. “He could have meant any gift. Including a gift we haven’t received yet.”

“I suppose that could be,” he said, but his tone betrayed his skepticism.

Electing to ignore Kyrundar’s nonsense, I focused onleaving the cathedral. Once we were outside, I reluctantly turned to him. “Where are we going?”

“Ravensburgh. I’ll fly us, so we should get there around…” He frowned at the sky. “Close to dusk.” He smiled apologetically. “I know you would do it faster if you could take us.”

I adjusted my pack on my shoulders. “This works better, anyway. If we went separately, I’d be bored waiting for you; it would be too far to carry you in my claws, and no one rides on my back.”

Kyrundar’s blue eyes twinkled. “I’m going to convince you to change your mind about that someday.”

“It’s a good thing gambling goes against our vows.” I sniffed. “I don’t need to warn you not to stake any money on such a ridiculous claim.”

“I don’t have any money, anyway. Spent it all on Dawning Festival feasting.”

I shook my head. “Of course you did.”

“What?” he asked with exaggerated innocence. “The holy texts mandate holidays with music and dancing and speak of Iskyr hosting feasts for his people. I think he approves of throwing a celebration now and then.”

Since I couldn’t argue with that, I continued down the road. Kyrundar chuckled, as if knowing he had won, and fell into step beside me.

To my relief, he didn’t insist on keeping up a stream of conversation. It was awkward enough having to smile and nod to the people who shouted “Kyrmaris!” at us as we walked to the southern gate.

Crowds of people leaving Laedresh clogged the gate with bodies, carts, wagons, carriages, horses, and pack mules. I slowed as we approached the hubbub. My stomach churned. I hated tight crowds—all of the bumping into me, the conversations on every side pressing in on my hearing, the vast array of scents from every direction mingling together. The overburdening of my senses always left me anxious and exhausted. And that was only half the problem.

I rubbed the insignia pinned to my chest. Even if I stowed it in my hip bag, someone might recognize us. Recognition in a crowd of that size, where we would get trapped in the press of people leaving, would mean questions, scrutiny, unsolicited speculation, and women batting their eyelashes at Kyrundar. Normally I’d fly over the wall to avoid the bottleneck at the gates—one of the special privileges granted to rengiri.

Kyrundar leaned down and murmured, “Not in the mood to be the center of attention while waiting to exit?”

I lifted an eyebrow and peered up at him. “Are you saying you can get us over the wall? It’s taller than the roofs we flew over last night.”

“Of course I can.” He squared his shoulders. “I only went through the gate last night because it’s harder to judge the height in the dark. In fact, I could get over the wall faster than you could shift and get over.” He sighed. “A shame we can’t race.”

“Oh, no, you’re not getting out of that claim so easily.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Next time we’re both inLaedresh, we’ll test who is faster.”

Kyrundar’s smile looked entirely too pleased. “Deal. Now, we don’t have time to waste.” He held out his hands, and glittering snowflakes cascaded from his fingers. Two hovering disks of ice grew before us. I waited for him to step onto his before I stepped up onto mine.

“Look!” someone in the crowd shouted. “It’s Kyrmaris!”

I clenched my jaw.

“Here we go,” Kyrundar warned. The disks rushed forward and up, but not fast enough for my sensitive hearing to evade all the comments.

“Why is Zidra traveling by ice magic and not flying?”

“They’ve been sighted together more often lately. Are they courting yet?”

Heat rushed to my face.

Then we soared over the wall—Kyrundar went far higher than necessary to clear the stone and guards, the show-off—and left the voices behind. He took us past the heavy traffic on the roads near the gate. Once the crowds thinned, he lowered the disks until we flew along only a few feet above the ground.

The wind on my face and in my hair felt good. A touch cold, but decidedly different from flying as a wyvern, where my scales were less affected by the wind. That was a good thing, of course. At wyvern flight speeds, the wind would no longer be pleasant. But this was more enjoyable than I’d ever admit to Kyrundar.

Above the rushing wind in my ears, I detected a strange sound, like a sharpcrackdistorted by our speed. Was itcoming from in front of us or—

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