Page 60 of Burning Heir

Testing his abilities, I stared.

He raised a crooked brow, his lips marred by a slow smile. He placed his arms around my waist and lifted me. My leathers held Naraic’s scales more tightly than on our first flight. I balanced, wrapping my arms around his broad neck.

“Stay close to me,” Damien yelled as he approached Emerich.

Archer took the lead, and Ciaran’s black wings spread wide, staining the clouds with a smudge of darkness. Naraic clawed at the grass before beating his wings and taking off after Ciaran.

Further down the field, metal poles struck through the ground with large circular obstacles. Emerich skimmed through three of them with a twist of his wings. Naraic followed suit, ripping us through two.

“He’s fast. You should try out for the Skyfall race in a few weeks,” Damien’s voice echoed through the mulched sky.

The wind smacked my face. “What exactly is the Skyfall race?” I asked, wing-to-wing. “I don’t feel very welcome here.”

“It’s a dragon race through every trail and realm. You get your portrait on the wall of legacies, not to mention points at theSerpent Bid. And about the red-head. Forget him. He’s only pissed Malachi will claim his leader spot at the bid.”

“Do I dare ask what a Serpent Bid is?”

“Yeah, the Serpents bid on who they want to earn the title. It also sorts the lead of each sector. Some say the more bids you get, the more likely you’ll become a Serpent. It’s bartering across the land—think of it like a lottery.”

We went through another hoop. “That sounds barbaric—” Naraic took a sharp right turn, narrowly swinging me off. I caught my breath, finishing my sentence, “So, the Serpents choose the heir?”

“Not exactly. The Serpents bid on the leading six for the final trial.” Damien grinned, pointing to the horizon. “Follow me.”

Naraic grunted, and I tightened my thighs in assurance as we followed Damien over the sprawling mossed peaks. Naraic flattened his wings as we dove over the mountain and flew above the sea. The grey water seemed to stretch forever, and I felt small on this island, knowing Winter brewed in Frozen Valleys and Summer’s belch was a hot wince compared to me.

Naraic clawed the water with a single nail, misting my boots. “It’s breathtaking,” I said. The whooshed flame in my guts simmered, still tingling in my clenched fingers.

“Wait until we’re no longer in the academy, and you have your entire life to fly anywhere in Verdonia. When I looked at you, I knew you weren’t a griffin rider.”

“And dragon riders have a certain look to them?” I asked.

“You are a natural rider. Most first-years wouldn’t dare fly this far from the fields. Your mind is… chaotically the most peaceful thoughts I’ve ever heard.”

“How can something be chaotic and peaceful?”

“You never gave up when most would.”

I stared off distantly, unsure how to respond to that.

Naraic was in my head again. “Do I have permission to show off? I can do a backflip.”

“I don’t think I can hold on.”

“We have lots of time to practice before the Skyfall race.”

“Did you… want to do the race?”Naraic veered left, back to the field.

“I never got the chance before.”

My heart strummed a half-beat in my chest. “Okay, we can do it. But let’s avoid flips until I can get on you without help.”

“Fine.”

Naraic looped through three obstacles, up and down. My stomach whirled before he descended, carefully coming to a gallop before Ciaran. “I said no flips,” I seethed at Naraic.

“It was only a test. Now the Lynch won’t think you’re weak.”

Archer nodded, shielding a flat hand over his eyes from the sun. “Good job, Blanche.” His voice hinted with humor. “But it’s not very formal to be lifted onto your dragon. Perhaps Damien Lynch should keep his hands to himself.”

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