Page 93 of Veiled Flames
“You were going to fall.”
“I most certainly was not.” I raise my chin as my heart thumps. Its erratic beating is because of the shock of his grabbing me. It’s nothing to do with the wind in his hair, or the way he looks into my eyes, or the way the streaks of amber dance inside the deep browns encircling them.
“Rosom—” he cuts himself off. “Rosshall.” His eyes fill with emotions I don’t understand and can’t name. “Please. This ruse has become absurd. Give it up. Give it upnow. You won’t survive these coming days.” His hushed voice is harsh and desperate.
I take a step back from him, so his scent is no longer penetrating my air. “Your penchant for predicting my demise is not onlyinsulting,” I tell him sharply. “To date it has proved highly inaccurate.”
The emotions on Saxon’s face are more easily recognizable now. His gold-tinged chestnut brows draw together and the lines on his forehead deepen. He’s exasperated. Frustrated. And terrified. Terrified I might die. His concern touches me, but not as much as it annoys me.
“Rosshall,” Roule calls out my faux name. “Do you plan to join your compeers?”
“Yes, Master Roule.” I step around Saxon.
As I pass, his fingers brush mine, and fire shoots between my legs.
Ignoring it, I resist the urge to glance back. Such feelings are highly unwelcome—especially when it comes to Saxon. After his insults to me and my gender, after what he did to abuse my body, after the way he treated me during training, I’ll never let him inside me again. Not ever. I’m done with males who believe mysex to be inferior—unworthy for any purpose beyond servitude and men’s gratification.
My cheeks heated, I rejoin the group. Some are already heading down a long path that cuts back and forth across the rocky edge of the canyon. The trail is very narrow and lies so close against the cliff that only parts are visible from where I stand. I find a place in the single file line and start my descent. I’m near the back of the group now. Another reason to resent Saxon. I much prefer to be at the front of the class.
The trail is not only narrow, it’s extremely steep. In places, a few of the men stop to slide on their backsides, rather than trying to maintain upright postures.
I resist the temptation. But then I’m faced with a set of steps cut into the rock, each step nearly a third of my height. Conceding, I turn to drop down the steps backward. Taking that chance to glance toward the bottom, I spot a plateau part way down to the base of the canyon.
Dizziness threatens to pull me over the edge.
Once I’m at the bottom of the stairs, I keep my hand against the cliff and my eyes forward as we continue. I don’t dare look down again, until we reach that plateau.
My hand is red and burning from the rough wall, and from lowering myself down even more sets of high steps. My legs are aching, and my heart is beating far too quickly. Going back up will be harder.
Once at the plateau, we discover the senior candidates gathered there, assembled in a row at the edge of the canyon, far to our right. Treacher and Saxon aren’t with us anymore. There is only Roule. A good break for me.
“Come forward,” Master Roule bellows. “You are very lucky, today. Not only will you view the dragon enclaves far sooner than any group from the past, today you’ll observe as one of our senior candidates makes his third mounting attempt.”
“Third?” Egon steps forward. “I thought dragons kill candidates who fail.”
Roule nods. “Very few survive a failed mounting—that is true. But Candidate Tynan has twice proved it possible.”
My heart skips a beat.Tynanis the candidate attempting to mount today? I don’t know whether to be excited for him or terrified. My fingers rise to my lips, which are suddenly heating and buzzing with the memory of our ferocious kiss last night. That part I know was real.
I don’t believe in prayer, not really, but I call out to Othrix as I offer a silent one for Tynan.
I’m being selfish. Selfish because my fear for Tynan’s life is mixed with personal regret. If he dies, I’ll forever be deprived of another one of his all-consuming kisses, or learning if he truly means to punish me with his rod.
Tynan steps ahead of the other seniors, and I’m struck with a quick stab of lust. His strongly formed shape presses out against his riding uniform, reminding me of how his shape looked partly clothed. Not stopping at the cliff’s edge, Tynan walks straight off its side.
I rush forward, stopping myself just in time to prevent plunging to the depths of the canyon myself. But my horror ends when I realize that Tynan jumped onto a wooden platform. And that platform is rapidly descending down the cliff’s edge.
Tynan’s on an elevating platform, much like the ones on the gauntlet course, and again, I’m amazed at all the innovations here at camp.
The other recruits join me at the edge of the plateau, and I pull out my looking tube to better see. Tynan has disappeared from my line of vision, and so I point my tube toward the mass of dragons. I’d estimate there are close to a hundred but it’s hard to see individual beasts in the distance.
“Which dragon is yours?” Egon asks Roule.
“None you can see,” our master answers. “The dragons in this section of the enclaves remain unmatched. Those with riders are housed elsewhere.” Roule gestures toward his left where the canyon sharply bends.
I can’t spot dragons in that direction, so I turn back toward the ones Icansee. They aren’t grouped together along the canyon floor, as I first thought. In fact, each dragon is penned separately inside a labyrinth of high stone walls. Extended, the wings of the biggest dragons barely fit within the confines of their pens, and even from up here, I sense their distress.
I work my way through the group until I’m close enough to Master Roule to more easily ask questions. “Why are they housed separately?” I ask. “And in such small pens?”
