Page 33 of Risking Her Heart

“We won’t make it far with that workmanship,” a deep, gravelly voice says.

I look over my shoulder and up. And up, my breath catching. A Zmaj towers over. He has crimson tinged scales that blend with the ruddy light of Tajss twin suns. His golden eyes study me with what looks like a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I snap, standing to meet his gaze. He is close. Too close, but I will not back down.

“You don’t have to,” he says, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. “This,” he gestures at the sled, “is ineffective and will only slow us down.”

My fingers curl into fists. I’m about to retort when the ground rumbles. Loose bits of sand dance over the solid blackened underlayer that was fused from the heat of our crash. A shrill whistle pierces the air.

“Get the children to the ship,” I yell, my voice cutting over all the noise and confusion.

The Zmaj tilts his head, his nostrils flaring.

“They’re close,” he says, voice low and tense. “Too close.”

I pull my blade, looking in the direction he is, at the cliff that drops to the ocean. The direction we expect the Order to come from. A moment later and I hear the whining of an engine then an airborne transport appears through the glare of the suns.

The sound of the airship is a loud whine. It races closer, passing overhead. As it does five Zmaj leap out, their wings snapping open and gliding down. The ship banks in a wide circle while the scouts land with drawn weapons. They move as a unit, tight and practiced.

My heart is racing, but the kids were not able to make it to safety. Tightening my grip on the blade I plant my feet, ready to fight.

“Stay behind me,” I order the group.

“Foolish,” the Zmaj next to me says in a low growl.

In a blur of movement, he steps ahead, his tail lashing the ground. He flares his wings, casting a shadow over me and the kids.

“I can handle this,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Can you?” he asks his tone laced with skepticism.

The first of the scouts charges, and the Zmaj meets him head on. His lochaber whistles through the air as he maneuvers. He knocks the Order scout blade aside with ease. The clash of metal and the Zmaj’s feral roar sends chills down my spine.

There is no time to watch as another scout lunges towards the sled. He isn’t paying attention to me, apparently not seeing me as a threat. As he moves to disable the sled I slice his arm with my blade. He grunts as he stumbles back, blood streaming from the wound.

I press my advantage. He’s at least twice as big as me, I can’t give him a chance, or he’ll take me out. I drive in, feinting and thrusting my blade to keep him off balance. He dances away from my blade, and it quickly becomes clear that he’s trying not to hurt me.

Of course. I’m a female. He wants to use me for breeding. Breed this asshole.

I dodge left and the instant he reacts by moving right to avoid my blade I switch directions. My blade buries into his guts, and I jerk up. The blade doesn’t move, resistance holding it in place. I growl and jerk. The blade slices. His eyes widen and he stumbles back, pulling my blade with him.

He falls to the ground, his eyes turning glassy. I rush over and jerk the blade free before turning to see what is happening.

The Zmaj, our Zmaj, have made short work of the Order. The one who was bothering me before the attack is still close, though he’s now covered in blood. I can’t say anything because I am sticky with it too. He walks over, chest heaving.

“You fight well for someone so fragile,” he says.

“And you’re an overbearing ass for someone who wasn’t even invited,” I glare.

His lips curl into something between a smirk and a snarl. “If I hadn’t intervened, you’d be dead.”

I hate that he’s right and I know it. I’m not an idiot but admitting that isn’t going to happen. Not to this arrogant jerk. I scoff, shake my head, then step around him.

“We need to move faster. Sending such a small force doesn’t even make sense.”

“Agreed,” he says, his tone softer now. “But you need to learn something, human.”

I glance over, straining my neck to look up into his golden eyes.

“Strength isn’t just about standing alone,” he says.

He smiles then walks away. I watch him go and keep watching as he sets to helping load another of the makeshift sleds. My chest tightens with a mix of frustration and reluctant respect.

I don’t need him. I can’t need him. One thing, though, I do know. The Order is too big a threat and getting all these people to safety is going to take more than stubborn resolve.

***The End***