Page 74 of Heart Cradle
Maeve considered that, then tilted her head. “So what you’re saying is, there was a whole dramatic saddle-fitting process behind the scenes while I was unconscious?”
“Yes,” Eiran said, amused. “And no. I had it commissioned when you were taken, so only a couple of weeks ago. I had hope, I had to have that.”
She glanced at him, catching the tension in his shoulders, the truth that lived in his eyes. He was nervous, excited, everything all at once. “Are you alright?” she asked gently.
He gave a quiet laugh. “I’m scared, not of you, not of flying. Just, I’ve never been this happy. It feels like something’s going to come and rip it away.”
Maeve stopped walking and turned to him. “Nothing’s going to rip it away. Not this time.”
He kissed her forehead, then motioned to the open arch ahead. The air was warmer outside, touched by heat that felt like it came from more than the sun.
Jeipier.
In the clearing near the stables, Jeipier waited. The young Emberwick was pacing excitedly, his fluffy smoke-like tail twitching. His fiery orange-gold scales shimmered in the light, not fully mature but already promising power. The saddle sat snugly against his back, runes faintly glowing along the straps. Jeipier let out a soft chirp when he saw Maeve and bounded forwards, lowering his head. She stepped up to him, placing her hand against the space between his eyes. “Hello, my boy. You look lovely.”
“He’s ready for you,” Eiran said quietly. “Xelaini said he trusts you.”
She looked up at Jeipier with something close to wonder. “I trust him too.”
“And you won’t be alone,” Eiran added. “Xelaini wants to fly with her son today.”
Maeve turned to him, brows raised. “She wants to?”
Before Eiran could answer, the air shifted, thickened with an ancient kind of stillness, then a voice filled the atmosphere, not loud, but vast and knowing. “He is of my flame and blood, Chainling. He will not disappoint, his instincts are impeccable. As they should be, given his breeding. If you agree I should like to witness his first paired flight.”
Maeve’s mouth parted slightly in surprise. “Of course Xelaini, I would like that.”
Maeve looked across the field where a shadow moved, slow and graceful. Xelaini emerged from the far side, her enormous midnight form catching streaks of light that turned her scales into darkened oil and stars. Her spikes twitched slightly as she approached, and she lowered her massive head in silent greeting.
Maeve swallowed. “She’s… beautiful.”
“And ancient, fussy, and terrifying,” Eiran added. “But yes… she’s magnificent.”
“Thank you Sweethearts.” Xelaini purred.
Maeve turned back to Jeipier and let out a slow breath. “Alright then,” she murmured. “Let’s fly.”
Maeve stepped towards Jeipier, her pulse beating fast. “I’ve got it,” she said, holding up a hand when Eiran moved to help her. “I need to do this by myself.”
Eiran raised a brow but said nothing, simply stepping back. She could feel his eyes on her as she approached the saddle and placed a firm hand on Jeipier’s warm, scaled flank. The young Emberwick stood patiently, head slightly tilted, eyes glowing amber. His sleek body shimmered with shifting tones of orange and gold, almost liquid in the light. His tail, fluffy like coiled mist, flicked in slow arcs of anticipation. He was still growing, small compared to the others, but powerful and catching up fast. Maeve had been told he would grow quicker now that he was paired. Even now, Maeve could feel the heat radiating from his skin, not uncomfortable, just alive. She reached up, gripped the saddle’s edge, and climbed. It wasn’t graceful, but she managed, hauling herself over and into position without hesitation. Her hands moved quickly, strapping herself in with the runed harness. She took a deep breath, then rested her palms gently on the nape of Jeipier’s neck. The warmth of him was calming, familiar, like sitting in front of a fire during a storm.
Eiran was already astride Xelaini across the field, sitting tall and relaxed like he’d been born on a saddle. The massive Nyxshade turned her head towards them, that great tail rippling with a low hum that vibrated the ground.
Maeve adjusted her grip and opened her mouth to say something to Jeipier, but he launched, with no pause or warning. He shot upward in a spiral, twisting through the air with wild, youthful joy. Maeve’s body snapped back, the wind stealing her breath as they spun. Her vision blurred for a moment and her chest tightened, sharp, fast and all too familiar.
She couldn’t breathe and the world tilted. She knew this feeling, she’d felt it in interrogation rooms, in dark alleys, in the seconds before she’d faced death, in bathrooms usually. Panic clawed at her lungs, she felt frozen but unstoppable all at once.
“Maeve”
The voice cracked through her mind like lightning, so sincere and comforting, almost human.
“Hey,” the voice said again, this time gentler. Male, mid-twenties maybe. Playful and kind. “Deep breaths. You’ve got this.”
Maeve concentrated on her mind-talk. “What?”
“It’s me,”the voice said again. “Jeipier. I know, bit of a surprise. I wasn’t expecting it to be so quick either. I’ve been trying since we first paired. You’re doing great,by the way. Ten out of ten for the mount. Slightly wobbly form, but that’s on me, I got excited.”
She laughed, actually laughed, mid-flight. “We can talk?” she thought back, still breathless.
