Tauran was, ready to quit after only a minute of facing his fears.
More importantly, Emilian’s life was at stake.
CHAPTER 42
The sound of massive wings entered Tauran’s consciousness, followed by the impact of claws against rock that he felt as much as heard. A huff of warm breath against his face made him look up. Leyra stared at him with large, curious eyes. She cooed nervously, nudging the tip of her nose almost carefully against Tauran’s leg.
“It’s okay, girl,” he said softly, stroking the warm scales between her eyes. “I’m okay.”
She took a step back, watching him expectantly.
Tauran blinked slowly as realization dawned. Leyra rose above him. He was no longer taller than everything else around him. He let out a too sharp laugh, edged with fear. It was ridiculous reasoning, and it was even more ridiculous that it worked. But it did. A bit of his panic subsided, enough for him to brace his hands against the ground and push to his feet.
“Stay close,” he murmured, and she did, coming up beside him, her front leg grazing his shoulder. “Good girl.”
He wasn’t alone any longer.
Tauran stroked her side, making Leyra raise her wing in a silent plea for scratches. A sudden wind tugged on Tauran’s clothes, but Leyra was a solid, powerful form beside him, sheltering him from the wind’s treacherous shove.
Leyra wore no saddle. If he lost his grip in the air, he wouldn’t get away with just a shattered leg. He could have asked to ride Arrow. He knew Kalai would have let him. But that wasn’t going to cut it. It had to be Leyra. She was never meant to be ridden by anyone else.
“We’re gonna try something new, girl.” His voice still shook, but he knew she wouldn’t mock him. She curled her head around to sniff the back of his neck, nudging his tufted ponytail. “You go easy on me, please.” He reached high on her shoulder, nudging downward until she understood his intention and lowered herself.
With trembling hands, Tauran grabbed the base of her neck, stepped onto her powerful front leg and pulled himself up and over.
She felt considerably wider and stronger below him than the first time he’d ridden on her back in the Terror Marshes. When she straightened, Tauran’s belly flipped, and he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her neck, nearly slicing open the side of his face on her sharp neck scales. “Easy,” he gasped. “Easy, girl.”
Leyra kept very still, and slowly, Tauran released his cramped grip on her. He glanced down. She stood nearly twelve feet tall at the shoulders, only a little over half of her adult size, yet to Tauran, it felt like glancing over the edge of a two story building. He adjusted his seat, settling with his thighs against her shoulders just in front of her wings. His seat was solid and secure in the dip between her neck and shoulders. Bending his legs back would hook his ankles under her wing joints, giving him even more stability.
Tauran grabbed two of the spikes on her neck, adjusting his grip, then adjusting it again. They weren’t great handholds. Numerous, but smaller than Arrow’s, despite her larger size. He should have brought a leather strap to wrap around her neck instead, but this would have to do. He couldn’t back out now.
Taking a deep breath, he looked up. The sky was a brilliant blue, vast and welcoming. He’d been so at home there, once. Wild and free. He grew dizzy and looked back down.
“We’ll have to trust each other,” Tauran said. “You and me.”
Leyra turned her head a little, listening to the sound of his voice.
He’d flown Itana without a saddle countless times. Falka hadn’t liked it, but Tauran never cared. Without the layer of hard leather between them, he could feel her smallest movements, the heat of her scales against his calves.
“Go on,” he said. “Easy.”
Leyra looked at him one more time, as if making sure it was what he really wanted to do, then stepped forward. She was usually a hurricane in dragon-form, wild and full of energy. For once, she was calm and quiet and Tauran couldn’t have been more grateful.
At the edge of the peak, she stopped.
Tauran tightened his grip on her scales until his joints ached. The Sharoani landscape stretched out before them. The farm houses scattered between the silkwheat fields and clusters of trees looked like miniature models bent from fabric and clay. Tauran’s eyes tracked down to where the