Page 202 of Feralheart

I watched him take in my exposed shoulder, the tunic that barely covered my thighs, and my bare legs. Heat flared in his eyes. Sharp. Hungry. He crushed it so fast I might’ve imagined it, and looked away, scanning for threats again. But his hands tightened around the hilts of his blades.

“Get dressed.” Lyndie’s voice cracked from inside the tent, making me jump. “Now!”

I dove back inside and fumbled with my leathers. Lyndie was yanking on her own gear, her face grim.

“They changed the rules,” I growled.

“Fucking elite.”

Yeah.

We hauled on pants, tunics, and boots. My fingers scrambled to secure the laces. Everything took twice as long as it should.

After stuffing our things into our packs, we rushed from the tent.

Reece and Fen were already with the dragons. Fen was saddling Aristus as best he could, his wounded shoulder making every movement a controlled wince. Reece was checking his dragon’s girth. Lyndie’s dragon stood ready, already tacked.

Selira waited for me, her gaze radiating tension.

I ran to help Fen, strapping on Aristus’s breastplate, then waited while he climbed. His face paled as pain lanced through his shoulder. Once he’d nodded, I scrambled up Selira’s side, hooking the strap of my pack over one of her spikes. My thighs clamped on her sides, and my hands found her neck spike.

Lyndie and Reece mounted and latched onto their saddle horns. No reins, but they had barely used them since the lake. They peered around, trying to figure out where we were supposed to go next.

Fen lifted his chin once.

“Stay together,” he said softly.

“Yes.” I pressed my heels against Selira’s sides, urging her into flight.

The world morphed. Reality peeled away like muscle stripped from bone. The meadow dissolved. Sky and ground inverted, then scattered into fragments that made no sense.

Riders who hadn’t mounted yet were sucked into the void. Their screams cut off so fast it was worse than if they’d kept screaming.

Empty dragons flew past us, stirrups banging against sides, reins trailing.

I couldn’t tell up from down. Selira’s wings beat frantically beneath me, but we weren’t flying through air. We were swimming through something thicker, a place that tasted like old magic and even older hunger.

The four of us stayed together.

Lady Severine flew past us, clinging to Heartsbrim’s neck, stark fear on her face. Other dragons shot in every direction, some carrying riders who looked half-conscious. Some carrying no one at all.

The walls around us breathed. In and out. In-out. A taint coated my tongue, and I wanted to spit it out but couldn’t. This place felt alive in a way that made my flesh crawl. This wasn’t a trial space. We’d flown through a gaping mouth and were inside something’s belly.

Tolross appeared ahead of me, walking across nothing. No cough or rattle in his chest. Color filled his cheeks, not the fever-flush that meant his body was losing another battle. His smile reminded me of before he got sick, before every breath became something he had to fight for.

“Eradin.” He reached for me. “There you are. I knew you’d come.”

Grief hit me hard in the belly. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think past the certainty that he was real, that somehow the trial had given me what I’d come for and I could stop now. I could just stop.

Selira tensed beneath me. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

But Tolross was right there. Whole. Well. Everything I’d entered this race to save.

Around me, other riders cried out.

“Father!” Fen’s voice sounded young and broken in a way that carved through my bones.

“Willa.” Reece sobbed. “Willa, wait!”