Page 10 of Skyshade
“Where—where is he?” she demanded, heart sinking behind her ribs. What if the little dragon was dead? She hadn’t spoken his name in ages. “Wraith.” Her voice broke on the word.
Grim’s grin put her at ease. He hadn’t necessarily liked the creature, but even he wasn’t sinister enough to smile at its demise.
“I was wondering when you would ask.”
“I looked for him, in the castle.”
Grim made an amused sound. “He doesn’t sleep inside anymore.”
She remembered Grim glowering whenever the tiny dragon would take his spot in the bed. She glared at him. “Why not?”
“I’ll show you.” Isla followed him out the doors of the dining room, onto a wide, curling balcony. Salt burned her nostrils, her hair whipped back wildly. She squinted. All she could see was endless ocean. “Wait here,” Grim said before she could ask questions, and then he was gone.
Isla tapped her fingers against the stone impatiently as she waited. She hoped Grim had treated Wraith well in her absence. He was just a tiny creature in need of help.
She remembered the day she found him struggling to walk, his little leg injured. She had slowly healed it with the Wildling elixir. He would cry when she rubbed the nightbane in, and she would hold him tightly until he slept. He was small enough to fit directly over her chest, and that was where he preferred to be, despite Grim’s grumbling that the dragon had stolen his wife.
That moment, that life, had felt like home once. Now, she remembered and felt hollow.
She was leaning over the balcony, wondering why Grim had told her to wait here and why he was taking so long, when a gust of air sent her flying backward.
Stone dug sharply into her back as she landed.
Midnight-carved wings wholly blocked the moon, casting clawed shadows across the balcony. Her hair whipped behind her as they flapped. With a horrible scraping, talons almost as large as her body gripped the ledge, causing pieces of stone to crumble into the ocean. The talons were familiar. One was slightly crooked.
Wraith.
The tiny bundle of scales was now a full-grown dragon. And Grim was riding him.
Still sprawled on the floor, not daring move an inch, she watched as the dragon dipped his head down to study her. Her hand trembled as she slowly moved to touch his face. His scales were cold. He sniffed her.
Then the dragon leaned back and cried into the sky. She was off her feet in a moment as Wraith threw her into the air with his nose. He caught her using his neck, and she slid down his rough scales, narrowly avoiding falling when Grim caught her by the back of her dress, sending beads flying. He hauled her in front of him while Wraith screeched happily toward the stars.
Grim’s eyes seemed to glimmer under the night sky. “I’ve never seen him so excited.”
Isla gaped at him. “How—it’s only been a few months. He—”
“Grew.”
It was an understatement.
“Do you want to ride him?” he asked.
Before she could respond—and the answer was no, for this was just another form of flying, which she decidedly hated—Wraith took to the air, and Grim caught her around the waist to keep her from being cut to ribbons against the cliff.
Her scream was swallowed by the wind as Wraith shot into the clouds. “Hold on,” Grim whispered into her ear, and that meant holding onto him.
She sat facing him, pressed firmly against his torso, her head tucked into his chest. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Straddling him.
It was an unfortunate position, but she didn’t dare loosen her grip around his neck, not when the alternative meant hurtling to the ground below. Her ankles locked behind him, and she felt Grim go still beneath her.
This was familiar. Even as fear dropped through her stomach, so did an ember of heat. He overtook all her senses. He smelled of soap and storms and something distinctively him, and she fought the impulse to run her lips across his neck, his jaw. He seemed to be dealing with a similar level of restraint.
No. He was her enemy. She despised him.
“Wraith,” Grim finally said, his voice a dark whisper against her ear, skittering down her spine as he instructed the dragon to land. When he did—and not gently—Isla ground against Grim with the impact, and she made a sound like a whimper. Grim made a sound like a growl.
Then, Wraith turned over, and Isla slid into an undignified heap on the ground. She couldn’t be too upset at the creature; he was still young. Wraith grinned at her with his massive teeth, in what would have been a horrifying smile if she didn’t see within it a glimmer of the little dragon he had once been. He bent down to rub his head against hers, which knocked her back onto her backside.
