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“I don’t know what happened,” Meira murmured, “Something is wrong. Very wrong.”
Mrithun snapped her teeth as if that was communication enough. The Bold Wing raised her head giving her rider a nod. The pink blooming from over the horizon cast its color across her scales and her tale flicked behind her. Their reflection shone in the few remaining panes of glass that surrounded a quarter of the mountain’s edge.
Mrithun was the most beautiful dragon in the den that resided at Mount Ridmond. Her face was traditionally long but wide enough that her jaw was certainly threatening. Her backside-to-tail ratio was the perfect example of what a Bold Wing’s proportions should be, and her black scales, well that was the height of beauty. Not to mention perfect for flying at night, though Mrithun only did that during missions.
Meira smiled at her, the joy of it never fully reaching her light green eyes. “Shall we go for a ride?” she called through the rise of wind that had her swaying. The end of Mrithun’s tail scraped against the worn rock floor.
A violent gust circled the space, shifting her waves away from her face. Meira inhaled generously. Light fog curled and drifted around them, thin enough for her to still feel the sun's warming glow. This was better than any tonic a healer might prescribe. And this was when she loved being on the mountain top the most. Every other scale rider was still snug in their beds thanks to the Bold Wings mostly nocturnal ways.
Her clammy hands tucked the hem of her loose shirt back into her belt. Exhaustion made every movement slower than it should have been. Anger spiked inside of her making her chest throb.
A clear shiver traveled down Mrithun’s spiked spine. Her toes tap, tap, tapped as her impatience built. Meira exhaled a light chuckle as she pulled a black harness from the waiting stack and fought against gravity to stay upright. After several wavering steps, she made it to her dragon’s side. Mrithun knelt forward, snorting as Meira slung the saddle over her back to settle gently against her spine. Fingers reaching for the belts, Meira stiffened when someone cleared their throat.
“I’m not sure you should be doing that.”
She knew that voice anywhere. So deep, with the rasp of a chronic sore throat from shouting above the winds. Bram. Leader of the Crimson Legion, of which she served, and the only one above the eight others in their legion who could out-fight her or whose dragon could outfly hers. As ten they were a unit bound like family, bound to their dragons, and bound to serve the emperor.
“And why not?” Meira focused her gaze on her task. Forcing her breaths to even, she quickly tightened the several straps on Mrithun’s belly and smoothed her hand over the dragon’s soft underside.
“You’ve been ill for weeks. Bedridden for practically a month.” Wrinkles framed his worried eyes, making the evergreen shade sparkle. Honey-blond hair swept into his eyes, falling from the loose bun on top of his head. Bram’s cheeks were flushed, suggesting he’d already been out for his morning run.
“I feel fine now.” She shrugged. Other than being excessively tired and slightly weak, she had no other lingering symptoms. Tiredness could be easily ignored. Weakness could be fought past. The month of her life spent at death's door, well, that could be easily explained—if only she’d dare tell a soul.
“M,” Bram whispered, eyes shifting to confirm they were alone.
In only a few long strides he stood before Meira. At this distance, she could make out every bit of his concern etched upon his rugged features. Guilt grew heavy within her stomach. Her eyes fluttered closed as his calloused hand cupped her cheek. Warm against her face, she took her time inhaling his scent, something like mint and cedarwood mingled with the salt of his sweat.
If only it didn’t have to be this way.
“You’re going to hurt yourself jumping back into it this quick. The others will understand if you are slow to ride again.” Two fingers traced her jaw before he tipped her chin and lifted her gaze to meet his. “I worry for you.”
“Mrithun needs her wings stretched. She is restless.” Meira sighed, trying to look anywhere but at Bram’s face, knowing that she needed the flight far more than her Bold Wing did.
Fresh waves of need washed over her. Every cell begged her to lean into him to let him escort her back to bed and hold her until she told him her truth and forgot about everything else. The words sat restlessly at the edge of her tongue wanting to be said.
Bram can’t know. No one can know.
If he was put at risk for the dangers that she harbored, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself. And that was if he could stand to look at her if he knew.
“Then let me ride her.” He straightened, giving her a good view of his wide frame.
Meira fought a sad smile trying to force her lips into a frown. Gently, she brushed aside Bram’s touch. “You know she won’t allow that.”
Mrithun released a low rumble from her throat. Those ruby-red eyes of hers narrowed while she stomped her feet.
“See.” Meira pointed toward the Bold Wing.
“I would try…for you.”
Another dagger right to her heart. Bram would try many things for her. Bram would die for her. Another reason she had to keep him at arm's length. Another reason she and Bram couldn’t be together. Because the only future Meira and Bram had together was a tragic one. People she loved were taken from her. She’d hold no love for him if only to keep him from his death.
“You would try and you would fail. Mrithun hasn’t let anyone else ride her since she was a sprout learning to take a rider. We are bonded and she is stubborn.”
Mrithun snorted. Bram muttered under his breath about the Bold Wing not being the only stubborn being.
“What do I have to do to get you to keep both feet on the ground where it is safe?” Bram finally exhaled, taking a step away from her.
“There is nothing you can say. I belong in the sky.” With a smile and a lot more bravado than she actually had, she took hold of the harness meaning to pull herself up.
