And now he’d made his.

Across the cliffside, I could see the Sarrothian horde’s encampment, dotted along the flattened mountain peak. Some horde members were beginning to rouse, and soon they would know that Lygath had returned to Tharken. Sarkin would wake any moment to find me gone, if he hadn’t already.

Zaridan was below, patrolling the pass to watch for me, an exercise Sarkin had told me they’d done endlessly.

The tethers tightened in my grip.

Lygath drew closer and closer. I stepped up to the ledge to draw his attention. Those golden eyes flashed in the sunlight, and then his speed increased, a mighty gust of his wings preceding the burst, and a roar unleashed from him. It boomed along the cliffs, echoing deep and long. It raised the hairs on my arms, nearly making me shudder.

The call of a Vyrin.

Now everyone will know you’re here, you proud thing, I thought, grinning.

I backed up as much as the ledge would allow. I gazed at the spot where I would meet Lygath, ignoring the rising sounds of alarm from the Sarrothian horde that echoed in the pass.

Closer…

Closer…

Closer.

“Now.”

I sprinted along the ledge, the tethers tight in my grip.

I swore I could see my reflection in Lygath’s golden eye, flying as close as he did to the cliff.

I jumped.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 40SARKIN

“Where is she?” I growled to Feranos, stalking toward the cliff’s edge, the horde parting for me until I reached my wing commander.

“She’s at the pass,” he said quietly. “Sarkin…Lygath is there too.”

Fear spread like ice in my veins. I’d known something was wrong the moment I’d woken to find Klara gone.

“And Zaridan?” I asked, wrapping my hand around my bare wrist. I didn’t remember the last time I’d been without my cuff.

“She’s down there,” Feranos told me, pointing to the lower pass. We couldn’t see her from this angle, but I knew that my Elthika would be watching Klara. “The illa’rosh is over. What is she doing?”

My teeth snapped together. “Claiming her Elthika.”

Feranos’s expression looked grim when he met my gaze.

“Call Vorna,” I ordered him, watching his fingers immediately flash to his cuff. “I need him. I need to get to her and⁠—”

“Lygath! He’s there!” I heard the cry from a horde member. My head whipped to the Tharken cliffs, and I saw his shimmering scales in the morning sun. In the far distance, I watched him glide through the pass.

“Where is she exactly?” I asked Feranos when he stepped up beside me.

He pointed his finger toward the top of one of the cliffs, very close to where she’d been situated during the illa’rosh. “There.”

Klara’s form was just discernible from this distance.

And Lygath would reach her in mere moments.

“I’ll never make it to her in time,” I rasped, my heart thudding in my chest in realization. The only thing that wasn’t making me lose my mind with fear and worry was that Zari was down in the pass. She would catch her if Klara fell. But what if something went wrong? What if Lygath attacked her this time instead of allowing her a death fall?

The only thing predictable about Lygath was his unpredictability.

“Fuck,” I breathed, watching Lygath reach Klara’s ledge. I felt helpless—as helpless as I’d felt watching Haden fall off the very Elthika that my wife was hell-bent to claim.

Kyavor appeared, coming up on the other side of me, clasping his hand onto my shoulder. “Breathe, Sarkin,” he murmured quietly, though his eyes were rapt on his pupil along the cliffside. “She wouldn’t do this recklessly.”

She needs to do this, came the realization. A realization I hated. I hated everything about this. But I couldn’t control her. I couldn’t cage her to make sure she was safe. The purpose of my training her had always been to prepare her. That was how I could protect her best.

That was how I could love her best.

A collective rippling gasp among the horde made time seem to slow. The world quieted. Even the wind. Everyone was there. Every Sarrothian soul at Tharken had come to see their queen. Even Klara’s peers. Vyaria. Kan. All watching with bated breath.

Lygath flew close to the cliffside.

I watched the small speck of her back up on the ledge, and then she sprinted. My nostrils flared wide, my heart beating at its bony cage so hard I thought it might burst free. I watched the heart that was outside of my own body, the heart of vulnerability that was flayed wide open, leap off the cliff, silhouetted against the gray stone of Tharken.

She landed on Lygath’s back cleanly, just as she’d done a couple nights prior.

“Come on, aralye,” I whispered, watching for the flash of the tether. There.

“She latched it—it’s on!” Kyavor exclaimed, straightening as his gaze tracked her every movement. “Now to see if he’ll…”

There was a rippling of energy going through my horde behind me. No longer was it trepidation. It had now turned to hope. Scarce, unbelievable hope.

“He’s not fighting her,” I said softly, with dawning realization, watching Lygath soar through the pass with Klara on his back. He wasn’t fighting her.

Klara took the primary riding position—bent low over Lygath with a straightened back and locked thighs. She had a good grip on the tethers…and Lygath wasn’t fighting her.

“She’s claimed him,” I said, throat tight.

“On Muron, she has!” Kyavor said, a broad grin—the biggest I’d ever seen on the aging male—appearing.

Raising his voice, Feranos cried out to the horde, “The Sorrina has claimed Lygath!”

The cheers erupted. So loudly that it nearly shook the entire mountain.

Another Vyrin for the horde. Another descendent of Muron. Zaridan’s own blood. Sarroth would speak of this day for the rest of our history as we watched the Sorrina take her first flight with her bonded Elthika.

Klara Dirak’zar of Rath Serok and Rath Drokka. Rider of Lygath. Queen of the Sarrothian horde.

Pride burned so brightly it nearly stole my breath.

Yet it was mingled with hot anger, bubbling relief, with pricking love and sharp desire. My emotions were such an overwhelming mess that I didn’t trust myself to move. I didn’t trust myself to speak or react as I listened to the loud celebration that erupted around me. And so I stayed as still as a statue, though my eyes were only on Klara as Lygath ascended above the Tharken cliffs.

Something dark shot from the shadows beneath the pass. Zaridan.

The horde quieted, a hush of awe descending as Zaridan hurtled straight after Lygath, her wings close to her body. Lygath roared. Zaridan’s response was a call of her own, beautiful and chortling. They spun around one another as they ascended together, and then the rising dawn blotted them from view.

The two Vyrin siblings, descendents of Muron, reunited once more.

Another Vyrin for the horde of Sarroth, claimed by a Dakkari princess, who everyone had underestimated. Even me.

Sarroth would never underestimate her again.

She’d ensured that, hadn’t she?

Long moments later, they appeared again. And they were flying straight for the horde. The Sarrothian began to race for the landing field to the right of the encampment.

Feranos and I moved with them, and the horde parted for us as I walked to the front.

“Sorrina, Sorrina, Sorrina,” came the chanting cries, the closer she drew. I could see her now. Her cheeks flushed, hair windswept, eyes glassy with her success and relief.

The horde erupted into cheers when Lygath landed before us, gusting his wings. He kept as far away from the Sarrothian as he could without going over the cliff edge, Zaridan landing beside him. Still ever mistrustful.