Page 168 of The Edge of Darkness

“I’ve ridden three.”

“Three small beasts,” Remic mumbled under his breath.

Niall crossed his arms. “Compared to your none?”

“I have my own wings. And I don’t have to risk getting a barb to my face to use them.”

Vanir swung his leg over the fence, perching upon the top rung, interrupting what I imagined would have spiraled into some sort of comparison of one’s malehood if the conversation had been left to continue.

“I could use a male with his skills around here full-time.” He gave Niall a pointed and suggestive look.

“You say that every time he breaks a beast for you.”

“Yes, and every time he goes back to the mountains I begin counting down the days until he returns so that I can make some progress again.”

“You know the solution to that.”

Vanir reached up and fiddled with his beard as he let out a grunt of frustration. “And you know my damn hands are tied.”

I snuck a glance between them, trying to glean what it was they were talking about.

Niall shifted his stance, spreading his legs and looking skyward. “I think you’re well loved enough by your court that if you decreed it, they would accept it.”

“You forget, the highland fae are not so quick to overlook past transgressions.”

“Oh trust me, I haven’t forgotten. I just think that, as times change, so too should we.”

Vanir snorted. “Good luck getting the Elders to comply with that.”

A screech sounded through the valley, then, a stream of fire erupted from around the same cliff face Roirdan had disappeared behind. The handlers banged their swords and axes against the fenceline as Roirdan soared through the inferno atop the winged beast.

“Record time,” Vanir said, rapping his own hands against the fence with approval, then launching himself off, his boots pounding the ground as he landed. He turned back to Nivelle and me. “If you want a closer look, come on.”

Nivelle didn’t hesitate. She slipped between the fence rails and was immediately at Vanir’s side. I grinned to myself as I followed them out into the pen.

“Wait for me,” Silas said, climbing the fence and using his wings to ease his landing as he jumped.

The Dreki took several wide circles around the valley, dropping lower with each turn. As he made his final descent, his heavy wings arched to slow his momentum, and Roirdan leaned back in the saddle, steadying himself. Vanir, Silas, and I shielded our faces from the wind that blasted in our direction, but Nivelle merely squinted, not daring to miss a second of the beast’s grandeur . . . and its rider’s show of force.

“Asuukta,” Roirdan called out to the Dreki. “Asuukta eftuush.”

The creature’s legs found their footing and his body shook the ground as he landed. The rope that had been holding his maw closed was gone, and a hint of smoke wafted from his nostrils as he breathed. Razor sharp teeth glinted as he let out a deep-throated trill.

Roirdan adjusted himself in the saddle, letting slack into the straps that hooked around the Dreki’s neck. The wraps on his hands were bloodied. Sweat coated his upper body, as did two stripes of dried blood where it appeared he’d been lashed by the Dreki’s barbed tail across the left side of his chest and flank.

Strands of his wind-whipped hair fell down into his face, but he grinned wickedly, like his spirit had been renewed with energy.

“Hellfire,” he announced. “That’s this bastard’s name.”

“Hellfire,” Vanir echoed. “Seems like a fitting name for the beast.”

The Dreki stomped its paws and let out a clipped roar, flailing its tongue and sending flaming sparks into the air as if in agreement. Each of us cautiously stepped back, giving the beast some space. But not Nivelle. She didn’t budge. She was transfixed.

When the Dreki narrowed its sights on her and growled, Silas stepped forward, ready to swipe her out of harm’s way, but Vanir slammed a hand against his chest. “Leave her,” he said. Silas whipped his head to him, pushing against his restraint, but Vanir held firm. “Trust me.”

The five of us slowly retreated further toward the fenceline, as Nivelle stood before the Dreki, staring into its yellow, slitted eyes. From atop the beast, Roirdan watched, hands at the ready, one wrapping around the reins, the other poised to withdraw his dagger and sink it into Hellfire’s neck, should he make a wrong move.

Nivelle’s pale hair lifted as Hellfire’s breath washed over her, but instead of backing away, she held out a hand. Roirdan’s mouth parted, as if he were about to protest or tell her to stop, but no words came out.