Ylia ordered Gryll to turn the dragon around. To her surprise, he complied, pulling Pandora’s reins and bellowing in some Draconian tongue until the immense dragon pivoted and descended.
Hurtling mere feet above the sea’s bloody surface, Ylia, Jubal, and Qala searched for any sign of Telos. With every rising wave, she hoped to see him. Afloat, perhaps. Or treading water for his life. She remembered the day he had first knocked on her door, and she had opened it to find him drenched from wading through the river. That moment was the start of all her recent woe and loss, and yet she looked upon it fondly now; for a flickering second it brought a smile to her lips, before the salt-sting of the sea returned her to the present moment, the present danger.
With each circle the dragon made, the hopelessness of their cause became more apparent. They had no idea of even the vague area where he had fallen—it was not as if the roiling sea possessed landmarks. Her eyes ached from straining to descry shapes in the foam-blasted landscape.
And from her tears.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
She did not know why she cried for a thief she hardly knew. She supposed, if she was being honest, she had been lonely this last decade. There were always new faces at The House of the Verdant Sun, but none of them could ever become friends, not true friends whom one confided secrets in. She had become closer to Telos and the others in the last few days than she had with any of the people of Midnere in years.
And now he was gone.
Qala put a hand on Ylia’s shoulder. She knew what that meant and the tears flowed with renewed vigour, but she nodded.
“Gryll…” she called, unable to finish the sentence. The dragonrider, however, seemed to understand, for with a jerk of the reins he drew Pandora upward once more.
Below them, the black waves rolled. She heard thunder, far off.
Like a great beast awoken.
***
THE STORY WILL CONTINUE IN BOOK 2: IN BLOOD WE'RE BOUND
