Page 125 of Golden Queen
But for just then, if I could have had my wish by some magic djinn in a bottle, I would have traded it all—dragons, my kingdom, the entire sky, and all the land below it, just to belong to him.
A short time later, as Veles spread his wings and soared across the open sky, I felt Io's shield slip into place. The wind stilled and quieted, the world muffled but not diminished.
My dragon was gliding just ahead, keeping pace with Aben and Britaxia. I felt overwhelmingly guilty that I had not named her. "How in the world does one manage to think of a name suitable for a dragon?" I asked.
"I can't say, really. Veles' name just came to me as far as I can remember. It's an old Withian word that means darkness—or night, more accurately. I realized quickly how well it suited him as he grew, and his scales only darkened."
"I know Veles hatched when you were a child, but surely you didn't ride him until you were older?"
He laughed. "My mother tried to make me wait. She and my uncle got into a serious fight or two about it. In the end, I only waited half a year."
"Half a year?" I marveled. "So even Veles was not grown when you began riding?"
"He was already larger than any other dragon at six months old."
"So you're really telling me that a five-and-a-half-year-old boy climbed onto this enormous beast and...flew?"
He chuckled. "I used to get the biggest thrill from landing him in the middle of a crowd and hopping down to see their startled faces. I believed I was the greatest dragon mage who ever lived, riding without a saddle just for kicks. It wasn't until I fell a thousand feet down into a snowbank on the side of a mountain, then rode the avalanche down to the valley floor, that I came to grips with my limitations."
“And Veles let you fall?”
“He wasn’t as insightful in those days.”
"How old were you when that happened?" I asked, glancing back at him to be sure he wasn't teasing me.
"Nine," he answered with a self-effacing grin.
I laughed. "I can see it now. Reckless little dark-eyed boy who believed he could do anything."
He smiled, but something flitted across his features faintly. "My eyes were not dark in those days. They were bright, Alduran blue like Aben's.”
"They changed?" I asked, curiously.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and I felt the shield around us waver. The wind began to whip my hair around as I stared at his closed eyes.
And then he opened them, and they were bright, sky blue—the color so clear and unspoiled it was nearly heartbreaking.
The blue was such a sharp contrast against his dark skin that it took my breath away.
And then it faded—quickly, shadows leaking from the pupils outward until they had stained the sky blue back to midnight.
The shield went back around us, and the air on my cheeks grew warm.
"I've never seen you smile like that," he said. "You are absolutely breathtaking when you do."
His words surprised me. I hadn't realized I was smiling at all, but then I had been utterly enchanted by the sight of his eyes.
It was as though he showed me some other part of him—laid some secret bare.
I was honored by it.
"So when did they change?" I asked, turning away to look out across the golden plains.
"Gradually, as I got older. I suppose I was around fifteen when I realized they had gone as dark as they are now."
"Is that common...in Darkwatch, I mean?" I asked.
"No, I don't think that's common anywhere," he said.
