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She didn’t assume that the man she was chasing was all that smart. In fact, since he’d somehow betrayed her, or so she concluded in another timeline, she thought something had to be wrong with him. But coming to her, crossing that line of magic that connected them both had been somewhere between idiocy and insanity.Of course, he hadn’t been strong enough to make himself tangible. Especially since Meira was conscious, which was particularly hard even for her. Still, the fact that he’d been able to at all was somehow unsettling. He was proving to be more difficult than she imagined.
If he could do that…no. Witches had long since been hunted and gone into hiding, but for him to be connecting to the universe with the magic that bound this world he’d had to have a witch somewhere in his bloodline. His mother? Possibly his grandmother? Whomever she was, she couldn’t be too far down his maternal line.
Augustine had mages, but they were men with far less power than that of the witches. Mages, while still frowned upon, were still welcomed in many areas of the Empire. The main difference between the mages and the witches though, wasn’t the difference in their abilities or their stamina to use said abilities, but mages were men and thus more accepted.
Meira could still remember her parents. Her mother was never quiet about her opinions. If anything, she ran their household while her father, a quiet gentle man, had sat back with a smile and let her. Joining the scale riders had at least given her a chance to be something other than a quiet housewife—or a working girl on the lowest rung of the country’s ladder since she’d become an orphan. There was a difference, she told herself, between submitting to her superior and allowing a man to own her like a dog.
Fighting alongside the scale riders, she’d seen women across many villages who looked at her with open curiosity. Then, as if their husbands feared that she’d give them the strength to be more than they were, they'd whisked them away. Here in Augustine, being a strong woman was like a disease. Top that with dragon riding and her magic and she was the plague incarnate.
Remis had made a mistake when he’d come to her. She’d felt his nearness like a tug on the tether of the curse. He was so close, within a couple of miles. It had only been luck that Bram had pointed them in this direction to get Valen closer to Croughton. He’d claimed to want to stay near the river so their Bold Wings wouldn’t tire when they needed to stop to hydrate themselves. And Remis had lost hours lying unconscious, hours that she’d been able to take advantage of the moment they were moving again.
Thankfully, Bram had let her fly today. She’d felt jittery staying grounded for so long and even relieving Quincy of her guard duty for a while hadn’t calmed it. She liked to think that Bram knew her enough to see that in her, that he’d understood that she might combust if she rode that damn horse for another mile. Her inner thighs were still somewhat sore from the hours-long ride. Horses were far more lean than Bold Wings and she’d felt as if she might topple off one side if she didn’t cling on tightly. It was silly to be so unsure on the back of such a small animal; if she fell off the damn thing she’d only be a couple of feet before she hit the ground. If she fell from her Bold Wing, not that she’d done that in several years, the fall was miles and the impact deadly.
“Dragonis!’ Isaac bellowed.
Though they were coming down, a slow descent out of the clouds, they were still several minutes away from the group of four scale riders upon their Bold Wings that circled the treetops. Three gray dragonis with their long skinny necks flew together directly toward the four. The dragonis would get to them before Meira and the others would.
Someone from the group below, Jaselle, judging by the baby blue of her Bold Wing’s scales, parted from the group, dropping low enough to warn Bram and Brooks who rode with Valen.
Three dragonis up against their Bold Wings…it would be a bloody fight but one they could easily win. The thought had only begun to form when Meira watched as one of the dragonis flew forward and released a torrent of flames from its mouth. It was met with the fire of a Bold Wing and where the flames touched they turned a brilliant white that turned blue at their center.
Brooks was just as good at reading dragons as she was. It was all about watching the way they moved. Dragons were tricky creatures always looking a different way than the one they meant to strike from. The idea of them both being some sort of ‘whisperer’ came because they were both sympathetic toward the damn things. At their core, these things were animals that did what they had to to survive. Once you understood that they weren’t out for vengeance it was easier to predict what they might do. She’d tried teaching Bram once, but he’d scoffed at her, comparing dragons to the small minds of dogs. Bold Wings could be tamed and trained but they were far from dogs.
Flames died down in one direction only for another dragonis to take its turn. Meira watched as the animals circled around to attack the group of Bold Wings from the sides. They were met with the snapping of teeth and more flames that created a billowing fog that clouded around them. Each dragonis swayed in the air but never backed away, a sign of their desperation. These things were hungry, starving even, needing food enough that they’d be willing to go against more than they might be able to defeat.
What had once been a slight sprinkling of snow was now falling thickly and lowering their visibility further. Meira flew close to the rider at her side. She cast a glance at Willa who scowled at the scene below them, squinting through the material that covered her face. A plan was already forming in her head, one that might actually work if she played this right.
Meira was confident though that her friends didn’t need her. That thought repeated as they grew near. They didn’t need her for this. Then another thought. She was so close. Remis was so close.
“Willa!” she shouted above the winds that flared to life. “Willa, I’m going to separate the group. They’ll be easier to fend off when they're not fighting as a unit.”
A scream of pain came from below. Some of the dragonis flames had broken through the Bold Wing that fought it and they licked across the rider’s side. Brighton frantically smothered the heat that ate at his cloak.
“Go, I’ll head in from the other side and we can drive them apart,” Willa shouted back. The two parted with a nod and Meira couldn’t help but smile.
Clutching onto Mrithun, she lowered her body, angling as closely to her Bold Wing as possible. Mrithun, for all her training and the understanding that they had as dragon and bonded rider, easily understood the unspoken command.
Tucking her wings in, dragon and rider dove.
Meira was weightless, no heavier than a feather, as they angled toward the group. Seconds passed as she relished the feeling of the tearing wind. The fabric pressed against her face, blocking the worst of it, but still, her eyes began to water. She blinked away the tears, letting them streak her face and gather in her hair. She had the cover of the clouds and the excuse of this attack to find herself separated from the other riders. Then, when she was free and clear, she could get to Remis.
The curse thrilled at the idea as though it was its own separate thing inside of her. She felt its delight and it fed her own.
Mrithun let out a roar, swooping down over the other Bold Wings, forcing Brighton to duck down at their nearness, but then she was charging into the dragonis, edging it apart from the group. The connection between a rider and their dragon was always a marvel and a mystery. Mrithun understood Meira and desired what she desired, in ways that didn’t make sense when they couldn’t consciously communicate.
The leather straps of the harness dug into Meira’s thighs as Mrithun reared up, catching the dragonis with the razor-sharp points of her polished claws. The dragonis hissed, releasing flames that licked at the plated scales on Mrithun’s belly. Meira felt the warmth against the soles of her boots and clenched her teeth.
Smoke was building in Mrithun’s nostrils, making the visibility worse as it mingled with the incoming snow. The shape of the dragonis was all Meira could make out as its tail lashed out toward them. Mrithun was fast, snatching up its tail in her mouth, flames licking out around it. The dragonis let out a high-pitched keening noise before yanking its scorched tail away and fleeing.
Typically, Meira would be content to let it go and run back toward the mountains where it lived but today she needed a reason to be miles away from the others. So Mrithun gave chase. She hoped the noises that the dragonis let out and the sound of Mrithun growling as she went partnered well with the luck that befell them as the snow grew thicker yet. She could hardly make out the other scale riders, only getting a decent visual when their fire lit up the sky.
Her Bold Wing huffed, but it sounded more like a giddy laugh as the dragonis took off and Mrithun continued forward following the same tug of the curse that Meira felt in her chest. Meira held her breath as they put distance between her group and the others. She prayed they’d heard enough of the small battle to think that perhaps she’d been injured and stopped to nurse her wounds not far away. If they thought she was hurt then they wouldn’t consider her absence a dismissal of her duties.
Bram would be furious, but Bram’s rage was nothing in comparison to the need to have Remis. Want filled every fiber of Meira’s being. The spell that gripped her was a needy, wanting thing, and it craved Remis. It craved his blood.
Meira could practically smell Remis on the wind. Salt, copper, and an underlying scent of musk. She pulled her feet from the straps that held her and slid down Mrithun’s wing in a well-practiced move. She dropped onto the forest floor, let off just past the river in a small clearing of trees that Mrithun had been able to get into. The impact of the landing reverberated up through her heels, knees, and her hips which took the brunt of it. She ignored the spike of pain that screamed in her heels and moved swiftly into the trees.
With her back against a tree trunk, she took a moment to catch her breath and roll her facial covering up into her hood. The metal of her sword sang quietly as she pulled it from the sheath. Already she could hear the sound of voices, one rising higher than the others. If Remis did indeed come from the loins of a witch, it was possible he could feel the demands of the curse too. He’d know she was near. He’d run. But it was another voice, an unfamiliar one, that cried out.
