when he was around. Falka made her his responsibility. It was a success story beyond what anyone could have imagined. They graduated together and became the guard’s star team. People used to say she was never really tamed, but stayed with Tauran because she liked him so much.”
Kalai’s chest ached. He could only imagine Tauran’s heartbreak when he’d lost her. No wonder he still wasn’t all right. “Do you know how she got injured in the mountains?”
“Lightning strike,” Landa said. “A young and inexperienced dragon at the wrong place and time. She crashed in the mountains and the cold nearly killed her. Her entire left wing bore the scar of the strike. Looked pretty badass, actually.”
“Poor thing.” Kalai wrapped an arm around the egg as if the same thing might happen to it, despite the safety and comfort of Kalai’s arm chair. When he looked up, Landa was smiling at the sight.
“Anyway.” Kalai picked up the burned papers from the table. “I found these old texts on wild dragons. A lot of it is missing, but what I can read seems very interesting.”
Landa took the papers, studying the burned edges. “That’s definitely something Falka will want to see. Can you translate them?”
“Oh, yes,” Kalai said. “That’ll be no problem. I was just about to begin, in fact.”
“In that case.” Commander Landa placed them back down gently and slid off the table. “I won’t take any more of your time.”
“If I may ask,” Kalai said quickly, when Landa turned to go. “What happened to the old archivist?”
“He passed away,” Landa said, halfway turned back toward him. “Old age, I believe. The man was close to ninety.” He smiled a little at the thought. “Worked here until the day he died. We were in quite a pinch when we suddenly had no translator.” He winked at Kalai. “You were sky-sent.”
Kalai flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Thank you.”
* * *
Tauran was restless.
The previous night had filled him with an energy he hadn’t felt in years. It bottled inside him. Kept him from sleeping. He was up at the break of dawn and wished more than ever that he could go for a run. Instead, he took a cold shower and left for the guard grounds.
It took Tauran a while to find the training room, rearranged as everything was when they’d moved the grounds to the new district. Inside, it was blessedly empty.
Tauran drew out his pocket watch. The saddle maker wouldn’t open shop for another hour.
Discarding his jacket, Tauran steered for the dumbbells. It was more weight than he should be lifting, especially without a proper warm up, but he wanted to feel the burn in his body, that point just before a cramp that left him shaky and sore.
Kalai was dangerous.
Bright and beautiful, radiating life and joy and hope. All the things Tauran had told himself he was done with. For good. Things he would never feel again.
Last night was the first time in a long time Tauran had felt so real, so... alive.
Kalai was rolling thunder filling Tauran with static energy, and now all he craved was a lightning storm.
He dropped the dumbbells at the sound of nearby voices and left the training room. He wasn’t in the mood for questions.
It was a workday morning, the streets full of people, but for once, Tauran paid their lingering glances no mind.
The saddle maker’s shop lay near Lavender Square, nestled in a shaded nook fringed by flowering rose bushes and ivy-covered fences. In front of the quaint, two-story building hung a sign with the swirling script ‘Albinus’ Leatherworks’.
The bell above the door chimed when Tauran stepped inside.
“Just a moment,” a voice called from the back.
Tauran had always loved this place.
The distinct smell of leather, grease, and plant dye filled the air. Tear-shaped oil lanterns hung from wires in the ceiling at varying heights, illuminating the items covering the walls: clothing, horse reins, belts, harnesses and holsters hanging from hooks. Boots and leather-bound books lining shelves all the way to the ceiling. On the opposite wall hung saddles. Half a dozen for horses, just a few for dragons, with their dangling straps and buckles neatly coiled and tied up.
“Take your time,” Tauran called back, his request immediately followed by the sound of a gasp and a loud bump. Tauran blinked. “Albinus?”
“Tauran Darrica, is that you?” Albinus stumbled from the back room with his mouth agape. His dark hair was wild, his sleeves pushed above the elbows and stained with dye. He