Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 206625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 827(@250wpm)___ 689(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 827(@250wpm)___ 689(@300wpm)
Wait…what did they say they were doing? Hunting?
“It’s not like our dragons are going to bond other riders,” Jack snaps. “They’ll wait for us. This has to be done. That scrawny one is going to get someone killed. We have to take it out.”
Nausea swirls in my stomach, and my fingernails bite into my palms. They’re going to try and kill the little golden one.
“If we get caught, we’re fucked,” Oren comments.
That’s an understatement. I can’t imagine dragons would take kindly to killing one of their own, but they seem to be focused on culling the weak from the herd in our species, so it’s not a stretch to imagine they do the same with their own.
“Then you’d better shut your mouth so no one hears us,” Tynan counters, his voice rising in that mocking tone that makes me want to punch him in the face.
“It’s for the best,” Jack argues, his tone dropping. “It’s unrideable, a certified freak, and you know feathertails are useless in combat. They refuse to fight.” His voice fades as they walk farther away, headed north.
Toward the clearing.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath even though the assholes are out of hearing range by now. No one knows anything about feathertails, so I don’t know where Jack is getting his information, but I don’t have time to focus on his assumptions right now.
I have no way of contacting Professor Kaori, and there hasn’t even been a hint that the senior riders are watching us, so I can’t count on them to stop this madness, either. The golden dragon should be able to breathe fire, but what if it can’t?
There’s a chance they won’t find it, but… Shit, I can’t even convince myself of that one. They’re headed the right way and that dragon is pretty much a shiny beacon. They’ll find it.
My shoulders sag and I sigh at the sky, blowing out a frustrated breath.
I can’t just stand here and do nothing.
You can get there first and warn it.
Solid plan, and way better than option two, where I’d be forced to take on three armed men with at least a combined two hundred pounds on me.
I keep my footsteps silent and race across the forest floor at a slightly different angle than Jack’s little posse, thankful I grew up playing hide-and-seek with Dain in the woods. This is one area of expertise I can confidently claim.
They’ve got a head start on me, and the clearing is closer than I realized, so I kick up my speed, my gaze darting between the leaf-covered path I’ve chosen and where I think—scratch that, where I know they are toward the left. I can make out their lumbering shapes in the distance.
I hear a pop, and the ground falls out from under me, then rushes for my face. My hands fly out to brace myself a second before I slam into the forest floor. I bite into my lower lip to keep from crying out as my ankle screams. Popping isn’t good. It’s never good.
Glancing back, I curse at the fallen branch, hidden by fall foliage, that’s just wrecked my ankle. Shit.
Block the pain. Block it. But there’s no mental trick to keep the shooting agony from turning my stomach as I drag myself to my knees and rise carefully, keeping my weight on my left ankle.
There’s nothing to do but limp the final dozen feet to the clearing, gritting my teeth the whole way. The tinge of satisfaction that I beat Jack here is almost enough to make me smile.
The meadow is big enough for ten dragons, ringed by several large trees, but the golden one stands alone in the center, like it’s trying to get a suntan. It’s just as beautiful as I remember, but unless it can breathe fire, it’s a sitting duck.
“You have to get out of here!” I hiss from the cover of the trees, knowing it should be able to hear me. “They’re going to kill you if you don’t leave!”
Its head pivots toward me, then tilts at an angle that makes my own neck hurt.
“Yes!” I whisper loudly. “You! Goldie!”
It blinks its golden eyes and swishes its tail.
You have to be fucking kidding me.
“Go! Run! Fly!” I shoo at it, then remember it’s a godsdamned dragon, capable of shredding me with its claws alone, and drop my hands. This is not going well. It’s going the opposite of well.
The trees rustle from the south, and Jack steps into the clearing, his sword swaying in his right hand. A step later, he’s flanked by Oren and Tynan, both their weapons drawn.
“Shit,” I mutter, my chest tightening. This is now officially going horribly.
The golden dragon’s head snaps in their direction, a low growl rumbling in its chest.
“We’ll make it painless,” Jack promises, like that makes the murder acceptable.