Page 96 of Crown of Betrayal and Blood

They’re trying to turn back for me, I know it, but physics and a malevolent will are against us all.

Wrapped in the larger, heavier drachen, I’m plummeting from the sky away from them.

I tuck my chin into my chest to protect myself. There’s nothing I can do about the fast-approaching ground. Only the continuing snowfall tells me I’m still somehow near the top of the mountain.

The tendrils spread, encircling my shoulders and head and cinching hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

The beast shudders, and a high-pitched shriek pierces my ears.

Then I’m free falling again.

The dry, frigid air rips at my exposed skin and closed eyelids. Pain lances through me as I force my eyes open and squint against the whirling snow.

The drachen releases its death grip as ragged holes puncture the black tendrils.

My tears, I realize. The holes are from my tears.

My heart hammers with a burst of victory.

Somehow, my tears are burning through the drachen’s darkness.It’s a small triumph, but I’ll take it.

Okay, Lark, think. You’ve got plenty of time to do that before you splatter on the rocky ground below. Unless you hit one of those spear-like outcroppings of stone we saw on the way in.

I can’t cry an ocean, but maybe there’s another way. The hope inside me flares brighter, even as the frigid air bites into my skin.

The drachen pursues me relentlessly, holes mending together and healing before my eyes. In a matter of seconds, the creature is whole again. There’s no evidence of any tear-induced damage.

My heart sinks.

The spark of hope snuffs out as quickly as it ignited.

I can’t kill the drachen with my tears. And fire doesn’t repel them as easily as before.

Because the bastards are constantly changing.

But there has to be a way to escape. To force this monster to retreat.

Time for Plan B. For that, I need Kaida’s help.

Without hesitation, I dial down the magical shield muting the tide of emotions from the beasts around me, just enough to slip my thoughts through to him. Shoving aside the fear that claws at my mind, but I reach out to my dragon ally.

The same way he clung to anger to override his fear, I cling to my need for dragonfire to save me.

I sense his reluctance and a wave of concern that nearly drowns out my own fear. He doesn’t want to risk hurting me.

Dragonfire is not the same kind of fire we use. It is heavier, thicker, more difficult to manage. The density of the continuous flares renders movement nearly impossible.

Focusing all my will, I insist. I’m begging Kaida to shoot that immovable mass straight at me.

As his chest expands to draw in a massive breath, I brace myself.

With a grunt, I fling my wings wide, ignoring the fiery agony as my plummet abruptly stops and the winds rip at my feathers.

I jolt upright, ready to face whatever comes next, because giving up isn’t in my nature. Not when there’s still a fight to be won.

“No!” Bastian’s horrified scream somehow reaches me over the roar of wind and wingbeats. He’s panicked, terrified that Kaida’s flames will consume me.

I never thought to tell him I could redirect dragonfire. Because I’ve only done it the once. And never with dragonfire directed straight at me. Chirean blew fire while I was riding him, then dipped lower so that I had to push the danger away with my magic. It was a test to learn if I would make a good dragonrider for him, one he didn’t have to worry about protecting.

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