Thea tried to move her body in time with Aestus, but the freezing cold wind slashed at her as he shot through the sky. Thea's hair whipped around her, biting at her cheeks.
She couldn't believe she'd actually managed it. Everyone had warned her this was impossible and yet there she sat atop a real dragon.
From this height, she could see the side of the mountain plunging down beneath her followed by the tall trees rushing by. The route they had taken was eaten up quickly by Aestus' speed. It went by so fast, in fact, that Thea had to close her eyes or she'd be sick.
With her eyes closed and the wind whistling by, images of her father appeared behind her lids. The cold and rhythmic pumping of Aestus' wings made her feel like she was in her own world. Alone without anyone to see her, she felt the urge to cry creeping up on her. She felt the pressure behind her eyes, the burning in her nose. She was seconds away from bursting and she couldn't seem to stop.
At least she'd been able to see her father. Lief had been murdered so viciously there hadn't been any part of him left to bury. That thought nearly sent her into hysterics. But Thea gripped Aestus tighter and breathed through it.
Before she knew it, the shadow of the palace was in their view, just barely visible through the clouds.
She wondered if anyone had seen them coming. If anyone had told the king a dragon was on its way. She wished she could see his face when he discovered such a thing. She wished she could see his face when he realized it was her that rode the dragon.
But a curious thing happened then: She expected to feel the corners of her lips turn up at the prospect of the stunned king. She expected to feel smug and righteous. But she didn't. She just felt...hollow. Numb. Blank. While she yearned for those feelings of redemption and arrogance, she just couldn't seem to find it in her to care.
She wondered if her mind was trying to protect her from the pain of seeing her father. She suspected it was. She didn't try to fight it; she welcomed the numbness with open arms. Anything would be better than the slowly slipping control she had felt behind her eyes.
It was much easier not to feel than to feel that.
***
A horn blared somewhere outside of the king's study.
Favian whirled away from his discussion with Destrian, toward the window. That wasn't a victorious horn or even a welcoming one. It was a warning. "What now?" Favian demanded.
Destrian's eyebrows rose in surprise at the sound. He hurried over to the window and looked out. Instantly, his jaw dropped.
Favian watched his reaction with impatience. He'd put his son in the dungeon—not his son, he reminded himself—and also he had to attend to his wife being held in the western tower. He did not have time to deal with whatever was going on outside. He certainly didn't have time for the stunned silence Destrian was giving. He prodded, "Well?"
"Sire, I..." The advisor trailed off as his face went slack again.
"Destrian, what is it?" Favian came up beside the old man and looked out. His eyes immediately alighted on the source of Destrian's shock. He felt his eyes bulge. Surely, he thought, this must be some sort of trick of the light. An hallucination.
But his head did not thump. His hearing did not echo. The image in front of him was sharp and unwavering. Yet it seemed impossible.
For flying at full speed toward his palace was a dragon.
Favian's breath stuttered in his chest. He'd never seen a dragon before. He could hardly make it out now, but there was no mistaking the shape of the creature in the sky. That was a dragon. And any dragon that was heading straight for the palace could only be one dragon. He breathed his name, "Aestus."
