Page 277 of Burn Her They Said
Panic sears my veins like a poison as Malin curves his neck around the corner before steering me through the tall arched passage with his magic.
“Take the?—”
“I know.” Malin holds up his hand to silence me.
Heat creeps up my neck before it spills across my face, so hot it burns behind my eyes. Shame gurgles under the surface, and I shake my head against the thoughts of being a failure, since now is not the time to address anything aside from getting to Tasch.
Malin practically jogs with me down the hallway, but we still need to move faster. We need to already be harnessed to our Dragons and taking off to find her.
I let out a heavy breath when he directs us down the lesser-used path—the one I was going to suggest when he cut me off. A hall which leads to the eyrie.
My heart squeezes with the possibility of sending a falcon with a missive to let her know we are alive and are on our way to her—but it’s too big a risk. We can’t even allow a trusted falcon to know her location. And stopping to write a letter right now would be ridiculous. We will get to her soon enough. A letter would bring her little reprieve, as she won’t possibly feel comforted until she sees that we’ve made it.
A black blur emanates from a doorway ahead, and even though I expect him, I nearly yelp once Lars comes to a stop in front of us. He bends forward, and we wait as he catches his breath with drops of sweat falling from his forehead.
“It’s,” pant, “a lot,” pant, “easier.” He coughs, “going down, than up.”
He grabs hold of my wrist and looks back at Malin.
“No, take Malin,” I command when Malin releases his magic, and Lars braces my back, speeding off with me toward the dungeons.
I clench my eyes shut as the inertia feels like it does when Minea takes off at a sprint, forcing me to swallow down the dinner I wish I had forgone.
“Why did you grab me? You were meant to take Malin. He’s not able to defend himself.”
“Sorry. Can’t hear you. I’m going too fast.”
The incredible urge to scream builds within my chest, but I swallow it down and yell, “It’s obvious how much Malin adores you. It’s beautiful to see, really.” I peek through my lashes to see the edge of his mouth tick up. Liar. “Which is why I gave the order for you to take him first, since I can protect myself.”
His shoulders rise in a shrug, and I force out a breath, as it’s pointless to argue now that he’s speeding us down the Stairway to the Stars.
A familiar tug pulls on me, compelled by my blood to go where my bonded Dragon waits. Then before it seems possible, Lars comes to a halt and sets me on the ground. I crumple next to Minea’s side as Lars speeds off to collect Malin without saying a word.
Minea nudges me with his snout. “Come on, let’s get you to your other half.”
A garbled laugh sputters from me, and I squeeze my eyes shut to staunch the burn of tears forming. My eyes fly open with a burgeoning awareness of something staring, though the soldiers and witches who usually stand guard must have all reported indoors. Their absence leaves such a strange view of the forest, no longer obstructed by so many black uniforms—a fact which distracts me until I startle with the weight of a full leather pack slamming into my stomach.
Imperial Dragon Master Sonya holds her staff in her left hand with the straps of other leather packs hung from the opposite hand. She stares down at me, with her long gray braid swaying in the cool breeze. Then drops a second pack beside me while I peer up in her wizened gray eyes.
“How did you?—”
“Heard the explosion. Saw the ceiling cave in. I’m no oracle.”
“Ah.” My brows knit in disbelief.
“Context clues suggested you would need provisions for your journey.”
My brows rise, and I open my mouth to ask how she knew we planned to go anywhere, when she stalks to Sutrea’s side. I stare over where she steps up on her hind leg to attach one of the packs to the harness, which has already been secured around Fray’s purple Dragon. Then she gingerly deposits the rest with Brea, Dranea, and Lucrea.
She takes the long way back to the dens, apparently avoiding me and my incessant questions.
I lift the flap on the top of the pack she thrust into my lap, and my heart slams against my ribs seeing my old journal resting beside the clothbound book I asked the Elder Dragons to hide for us. I pull on the corner of the treasonous item, then snatch my hand back in surprise as it feels as if the book is vibrating. A shudder runs through me as I can feel the sensation within the pack itself—pulsing, like the book contains some sort of energy I wouldn’t know what to do with.
Cirrin steps around Brea to stalk toward me, and I shake my head as he gestures down at my ankle. “Show me.”
I shove the book down between carefully folded sets of clothing and note the dried fruit and jerky wrapped in wax paper next to a leatherbound flask, which has already been filled for us.
“No, you’re too depleted. I can ride there with a hurt ankle.” I try to rise to show him I’ll be fine, then lurch to the side and grab onto Minea’s leg.
