Page 160 of Under Restless Skies

“Come.”

He takes my hand, the touch of his palm soft against my skin, then pulls me to the window—and jumps. I thought his dragon would catch us, but there’s nothing, just emptiness as we fall faster and faster. When we’re close to the ground, he points the staff downward, somehow slowing our fall. I still reach the cobblestones with a thud, finally letting go of his hand.

“Where’s your dragon?” I ask.

The rider doesn’t trip or stumble and gives me no answer as he points his artifact to the castle. I suppose this is not the best moment for a conversation.

A burst of brilliant energy strikes the wall, and the stone shatters inward, creating a passage. He steps in, his strides large and confident, as if he had an army behind him. We’re not in the dungeons, but on the ground floor, at the entrance of the academy—where a dozen guards now advance toward us.

I step back as the rider points his staff upward. A crack splits across the ceiling like a lightning bolt, and then the whole section gives way—stone and timber crashing down between us and the guards in a cloud of dust and debris.

“They’ll survive,” the rider mutters.

I’m more worried if I’m going to survive, but I appreciate his restraint.

He pulls me into a long hallway where a dozen guards charge from the far end. Without hesitation, he brings the ceiling down again, forming a barrier, then he points his staff at the ground. A hole opens and we fall into an empty room, the landing barely cushioned by a burst of magic. He breaks the floor again, and we drop into a large chamber lit only by sunholes.

I think I know where we are. The dungeons. We’re almost near Ava and Vos! I can’t believe it.

The rider points the staff at the wall, but this time, he opens just a small hole, barely wide enough for one person to walk through. Still, from here I see a familiar, gloomy room with rocks and potted plants—where I slept many nights.

He steps in, and I follow. But we’re not alone.

Six archers draw their bows in unison, the creak of straining wood cutting through the air. The rider’s staff hums. A wave of energy slams into the arrows, shattering them mid-flight. With a sharp twist, he brings a slab of the ceiling down, walling the archers off.

Ava and Vos scramble from behind a rock, chirping and cooing in panicked recognition, and I drop to my knees, so relieved to see them. They crash into me, their tiny frames shaking against my legs, and I pull them into my arms, feeling the rapid thrum of their heartbeats through their scales, their claws digging into my skin as they burrow against me.

“They’re scared,” I say, my voice unsteady.

“I know. And the worst is yet to come.”

He blows a hole in the first wall, and I follow him through, dust and grit stinging my eyes, as my heart slams against my ribs. We pass through empty cells, dark and cold, and then more rooms. All the while, I keep waiting for the sound of boots, for an arrow, clutching the little dragons tight in my arms. When a guard rounds a corner, the rider hits him with a wave of magic before I can even react, and the man falls back.

More stairs. Another ceiling brought down behind us with a crack like thunder, and then a hole through another wall. We reach the outer edge of the castle, where the stone meets the hillside and cool, fresh air hits my face. I can finally breathe—but only for a second.

The rain has turned into a pitiful drizzle, and Auranius’ roar echoes in the sky.

My entire body goes stiff. “He’ll smell them.”

“He’ll smell me first. Wait here.” He pauses, noticing something among the trees. “No. Let’s go.”

A red dragon, female, I sense, emerges from the tree line, her wingspan folded tight against a body not much larger than a bull. In two steps, she’s beside us. The rider swings onto her in one motion and reaches down. My insides turn cold and empty. The hatchlings. I don’t want to say goodbye, but this is the only way.

“Go,” I whisper to Ava and Vos.

The little dragons climb into the rider’s arms without fuss, and the sight of them leaving opens an unexpected, selfish wound. Still, I’m glad they’re on their way to safety, on their way to freedom, even if tears sting my eyes. Happy, sad, and terrified tears. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, but at least the little dragons are free.

The rider holds Ava and Vos with one hand, and the staff with the other, and stares at me, something dark glinting in his eyes.

“Climb. Now,” he says between gritted teeth.

There’s no mistaking the desperation and fear in his voice. It mimics mine, and I decide it’s better to risk the unknown than to stay here and face Alayel’s wrath. With some difficulty, I hold the scales and find myself sitting behind the rider.

In a second, we’re up in the air, Ava and Vos clinging tight to him. They wouldn’t have accepted him so easily if he meant to harm them, and that thought puts me at ease. I wrap my legs around a ridge on the back of the dragon, holding onto its scales, hoping I don’t hurt her, but more worried about not falling.

As we rise, the castle shrinks beneath us until its towers are small as teeth. Beyond it, the hills and dark woods spread out on either side toward glints of ocean, and then, far past it all, the wall dividing us from the Kingdom of the Riders looms impossibly distant.

A familiar smell of wings hits me, and my stomach drops before I even turn around. When I do, Auranius fills the sky behind us, a vast beige shape blotting out the clouds, his wingspan alone wider than the castle gates, closing the distance between us as if it’s nothing.