An unfamiliar, shrieking roar made both Tauran and Leyra turn. Shouts and shots followed in its wake, then the sound of a crumbling structure. The stretch of a brown wing flashed between the tower and the dining hall. A wild statera. Gunshots tore the air between the wails of the siren. Bullets couldn’t truly harm a dragon, and it didn’t scare the statera off, either. A second roar, much louder, sounded from above as Excellor’s massive form appeared on the highest nesting floor balcony.
Tauran didn’t linger. He gripped Leyra’s wing and dragged her attention from the wild dragon. At the stable, he yanked the double doors open, urged Leyra inside and slammed them shut, not taking the time to check if they’d been spotted.
As he’d expected, the barn was void of people. About half the stalls were empty, mounted guards taking to the streets when the alarm sounded, but two horses was all he needed. He chose the nearest wagon, the only one covered of the three parked inside. Grabbing a pair of saddles, he tossed them into the back.
Leyra stalked around behind him. She had been in wagons before, but she had never faced horses so up close. Her pupils expanded as she approached a stall. The horses didn’t fear her, having been trained to tolerate dragons. Leyra crouched, as if ready to ambush, but she was no real threat to them. She was nearly two months from being old enough to chase prey.
It took Tauran far longer than he would have liked to tack the horses. The more time passed, the higher the chance that someone would notice he and Leyra weren’t in their room or at the training grounds. Excellor had gone quiet. He had no clue where Falka was.
Distracting Leyra from the horses took precious seconds. Tauran hated having to raise his voice at her, but the seconds ticked by and their entire venture counted on her obedience. Once she was inside, he pulled the tarp over the back of the wagon. He could only hope she would keep quiet and stay inside. Then he opened both the barn doors wide and crawled into the driver’s seat. Flicking the reins, the wagon rolled into motion and into the night.
He was doing it. He was stealing a dragon from the only place he had ever truly felt at home.
CHAPTER 29
Kalai had been ready to leave an hour after Tauran left the archive, and had been an anxious mess ever since. He stayed upstairs for as long as he could to avoid the guards finding his pacing and fidgeting suspicious. But eventually, he had to come down, if only to make himself some lunch and use the bathroom.
He hadn’t packed much. Clothes, food, his dragon pin, a few tools and utensils he thought might come in handy. And the pills. Even holding the box turned his stomach, and he tossed it into his bag with too much force. Lastly, he packed a few books from the archive, as well as rolls of loose documents. He wished he could take all the Sharoani texts with him, if only to get them out of the Sky Guard’s hands, but he knew he would regret hauling around ten pounds of books and papers.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Arrow.
He had heard nothing since Tauran told him Commander Landa had flown out to survey the ruins. No one had been by the archive he could have asked.
But if Arrow had been captured, he was sure Tauran would have contacted him. Something like that would change the plan, because there was no way they could leave without Arrow.
Kalai sank onto the chaise lounge, tapping his fingers against his third mug of tea. Everything was all right. Tauran knew what he was doing. Kalai only had to be patient.
He tried not to think about what would happen if they caught Tauran smuggling Leyra out of the tower. They’d throw him in jail, no doubt. Would they hang him for it? Kalai’s gaze trailed to the guards at the door.
One of the guards shifted restlessly. They had relieved the night’s watch in the morning, and the leftmost guard clearly wasn’t accustomed to standing up for so many hours at a time. He cast long glances at the stool in the middle of the room, but Kalai didn’t offer it. Maybe it was petty, but denying the guard a seat felt like the only ounce of control he had over