Page 7 of Realms of Swords and Storms
He launched himself skyward, wings beating powerfully as we rose above the trees. Below us, I could just make out the glint of armour as Imperial soldiers moved through the forest.
Too close. We'd been too careless.
The wind whipped against my naked skin as we soared higher, the chill making me shiver despite the heat radiating from Sirrax's body. I pressed myself flat against him, trying to absorb his warmth while remaining as inconspicuous as possible. The thought of someone looking up and seeing a nearly nakedwoman riding a black dragon was almost laughable, if it weren't so dangerous. The morning air stung my skin, but I barely noticed it, my mind racing with everything that had happened, everything I'd learned.
Dragons were Talfen. Talfen could become dragons. The Empire had enslaved an entire race, forcing them into animal forms to use as weapons, as mounts, as beasts of burden. The revelation made my blood boil with fury. I'd thought I understood the Empire's cruelty when they'd enslaved me, but this... this was beyond comprehension
We flew fast and high, the Academy coming into view as the sun climbed higher in the sky. The familiar spires and training grounds looked different to me now—no longer a place of learning but a prison where beings like Sirrax were enslaved for Imperial glory.
How will we fix the collar? I thought to myself. I couldn’t bear the idea of entrapping him once again, even if I did steal time away from the academy to let him have his freedom.
Metal bends. Will make look whole but catch will stay broken.
I physically jumped at the sound of his voice in my head, and the rumble of laughter that came from his chest vibrated up my legs.
You can hear my thoughts?
That's how bonding works, little mate. We are one now.
I grinned.
We are going to leave everyone at the academy in the dust. Then my smile faded. It’s a shame each dragon and rider at the academy weren’t mates. It would be so much more effective if each pair could share thoughts, especially in battle.
Not need to mate to bond. Different, but still hear.
So a rider could bond with their dragon but not be their mate.
Is so.
Then why doesn’t the Empire allow the real bond between dragon and rider?
Collar stop shifting, also stop bonding. If bond allowed, dragon tell rider of shifting.
Of course, I realised. The Empire couldn’t allow their precious secret to get out. They couldn’t admit that the Talfen they fought could be captured and forced into this kind of slavery, or that the Talfen had dragons of their own. It would cause panic. Imperial citizens already believed the Talfen were monsters.
I shuddered at the thought. What if the iron collars were merely the first step in a much larger plan? Would the Empire eventually try to enslave the entire Talfen race? I felt a rush of anger as I considered the enormity of the Empire's deception. They'd built their power on the backs of an enslaved race, forcing intelligent beings into animal forms for their own gain. And I'd been complicit in it, riding Sirrax without knowing, treating him as a mount rather than an equal.
As we approached the Academy, I scanned the grounds for any sign that our absence had been noticed. The morning training sessions were in full swing, riders and dragons circling the practice fields under the watchful eyes of the instructors. No one seemed to be raising an alarm.
Land by the back entrance, I directed.
Sirrax banked smoothly, circling once before descending toward the smaller entrance used by stable hands and servants. The landing was gentle, his massive body touching down with barely a sound.
I slid from his back, wincing at the chill of the morning air against my bare skin. "Wait here," I whispered. "I'll find something to wear."
He rumbled in agreement, his golden eyes watching me intently as I crept toward the back entrance of the stables. I pressed myself against the wall, peering around the corner toensure the coast was clear. The stable was surprisingly empty, with only a few hands mucking out the stalls at the far end. Taking a deep breath, I darted inside, keeping to the shadows.
The tack room would have spare clothes—riding leathers and tunics used by students who'd forgotten their own gear. I slipped inside, relieved to find it deserted.
I found a set that would fit me well enough—loose trousers, a simple tunic, and a leather vest. Not my usual attire, but they would have to do. I dressed quickly, grimacing at the roughness of the fabric against my sensitive skin.
Just as I was fastening the last buckle on the riding leathers, the door creaked. I froze, heart pounding.
"Livia?"
"Marcus? What are you doing here?"
"Septimus was worried when you didn't come back last night, but he didn’t want to alert the academy after he realised you took Sirrax. We’ve all been looking for you."
