CHAPTER 1
Every cadet wanted to be a dragon rider right up until they were hanging upside down from the saddle a thousand feet in the air—but I just tightened my grip and grinned.
Silver wings flared wide an instant before the instructor dragon threw himself into another snap roll. The sky and ground spun in a dizzying whirl. Without pause, wings tucked in tight, a gray nose pointed straight down, and we flipped into a dive toward the ground so very far below. The wind was in my face, my heart was pounding, and I was fairly certain I’d left my stomach several hundred feet up in the air.
And I loved every second of it.
We leveled off barely two hundred feet above the ground and were blazing along so fast the trees were nothing more than a green blur. Seated directly behind me, the instructor dragon rider shouted something lost to the wind and tapped my leg to confirm I was able to continue with the next phase of maneuvering. Just as I had every time, I tapped his leg in immediate acknowledgment, slightly harder than necessary in my enthusiasm.
I wanted to scream go, go, go, but that wouldn’t be professional. As a third-year military cadet at the Tennessan Bonded Training Academy, I’d have to keep my excited screaming internal. It helped that I truly had no breath for screaming anything. The saddle and leather straps wrapped around legs and hips did a lot to secure us, but it wasn’t enough. Legs had to grip, core muscles constantly flexed, and proper body position was critical. Flying was a whole-body workout at the easiest of times—a defensive aerobatics checkride was not one of those times.
Great wings beat hard to increase our speed, and I sharpened my focus. While I knew and had trained to every maneuver, the order was entirely up to the instructor. From this low of an altitude, there were two types of simulated threats Gregor, the instructor dragon, could react to—one from above, or one from below. Since Savinia’s anti-air artillery had taken out more Tennessan dragons than anything else, and we’d already covered an airborne threat response . . .
Sure enough, Gregor abruptly pulled up and arched back, turning all that speed into an inverted loop. For two seconds, for an eternity, those leather straps were the only thing keeping us in the saddle, because legs could only do so much. And then Gregor rolled upright facing the opposite direction in a textbook Immelmann turn, and I remembered how to breathe.
Without giving my heartrate a chance to slow, the gray dragon dipped and swerved in an unpredictable pattern, sometimes dropping low enough that the wind of our passage tossed the treetops, other times catching thermals to balloon several hundred feet higher in seconds. My spine flexed, and my hands rested lightly on leathery gray hide, every bit of my skill needed to move with the dragon.
The next time the instructor tapped my leg, it was just a little harder. A subtle warning that the next phase was the final—and hardest—of the checkride.
I’d proven I could ride. Now I had to prove I could ride and maintain situational awareness. That meant I had to keep my head on a swivel, calling the threats our dragon couldn’t see, all while keeping my seat in the most physically demanding phase of flight.
Without hesitation, I tapped the instructor’s leg back and scanned for threats. Left, clear. Right, clear. Up, as clear as I could tell with the sun directly overhead, half blinding me.
Left and down—a flash of light in the trees.
“Contact, nine o’clock low!” I bellowed.
In response, Gregor unleashed a harsh roar-scream. I felt as much as heard the ear-piercing cry, and if I hadn’t known it was part of the checkride, I would’ve thought the alarm in his voice real. I clamped my legs tight an instant before he jinked to the right to avoid the simulated ground fire.
Gregor jinked again, and the breath exploded from my lungs as my core tightened to compensate. Another dodge, another lost breath, but I didn’t falter. Not even when he slipped sideways and we dropped down to just above the treetops.
Suddenly, we were the last place a dragon rider wanted to be—low and slow. Gregor could either go for speed or altitude to escape the “shoot me, fuck me” zone. Not both.
Wings flared wide an instant before he pitched his nose up and fought for altitude. It wasn’t smooth, or graceful. The big dragon beat the sky into submission through sheer determination on fragile wings. It was like trying to ride a bucking horse going straight up, but three years at the academy had conditioned my muscles to handle it. I leaned forward, my seat balanced and my body hugged tight to his neck, and caught his rhythm.
A friendly thermal boosted us higher, and our flight smoothed out. Now several thousand feet above ground level and out of range of even the biggest dragon lance, Gregor relaxed. The tension eased from my shoulders, and I waited for the instructor to tap my leg a final time, signaling the end of the checkride.
Except, he didn’t.
Oh. Shit.
Almost frantically, I scanned the skies and the ground below. When I found nothing, my gut twisted. I should’ve looked up first. Squinting against the brilliant sunlight and wishing my goggles were tinted, I searched the flawless blue skies above—and caught a flash of red where there shouldn’t be any.
“Contact, twelve o’clock high!”
My screamed warning gave Gregor just enough time to react. As the red dragon dropped down on us from out of the sun, the gray tilted on one wing and side-slipped out of his path. Red wings flashed past, the world tilted sideways, and all of my weight went to my right leg. Leather straps creaked, but I managed to keep my boot tucked into the indentation that served as a stirrup and held my position despite the strain.
The “enemy” dragon spiraled up on a thermal with a friendly roar and was quickly out of sight, either returning to the academy or getting ready to ambush another student. I certainly wasn’t the only cadet out on a checkride today—and then came the final tap on the leg I’d been waiting for.
My checkride was over. The only question was whether I’d passed.
As Gregor looped back toward the academy in a wide turn, the sunlight played across my face. For all that I hadn’t paid much attention, the early autumn day really was gorgeous. Warm, sunny, with small puffy clouds scattered across the sky. It was absolutely perfect flying weather, but I was far too distracted replaying the checkride to enjoy it.
Every maneuver, every time my seat wasn’t flawless, my near failure to spot the final threat. It all played on an endless loop in my mind. I had to pass to advance, had to score well to keep my ranking high, but it wasn’t just about academy bullshit.
The Savinians had dragons of their own—and worse—and we had to train to meet that threat. The fact that it was fun as hell was irrelevant, because after I bonded a dragon of my own and graduated to active duty, those defensive maneuvers I’d just been graded on would mean the difference between surviving . . . or not.
In an effort to distract myself, I leaned over slightly and picked out ground reference points as we flew along at a leisurely pace. The refresher would be useful since I was double-turning today and would be back out on a different dragon this evening.
There to the north, the griffin rider training grounds where they practiced scouting and patrol riding. Cadets who weren’t quite as good in their first two years at the academy bonded to griffins instead of dragons. A flash of feathers drew my gaze to a pair of griffins spiraling higher above the training grounds. It looked like they were playing.
Dismissing them, I turned to the right and picked out the strange tower spearing into the sky, an easy waypoint on any of the southern routes. Unlike our current materials, whatever the tower was made of didn’t rust. A pre-War relic from another time, when we had the power to do amazing things.
A glint of sunlight on metal, a lot of metal, drew my gaze east. The last reference point until the academy itself—anti-air emplacements, placed at every cardinal point around the academy grounds. Great, crew-served ballistae armed with dragon lances and flechette rounds, because when the enemy had dragons of their own, no place was truly safe, no matter how far from the front lines.
Gregor beat his wings, and my core tightened as he side-slipped into another thermal. We rose several hundred feet higher in a matter of seconds, and a grin pulled at my lips as the academy finally came into sight. Three years a cadet, and I never got tired of seeing it from the air.
Nestled in the verdant foothills of western Tennessan, the academy’s chaotic mix of ancient gray duracrete, white stone, and wooden buildings stood out from all the green like a beacon. All of it encircled by protective stone walls. All of it home to hundreds of bond-capable cadets, bonded riders, instructors, and support personnel.
The skies above the academy were busy, gray and green and red wings flashing as dragons flew, with the occasional feathered wings catching my eye as griffins darted in and around the bigger dragons. No black or blue dragons were out today, but they were so rare I wasn’t surprised.
As we banked left and slipped into the landing pattern, another gray dragon, slightly larger than Gregor, joined on our wing. Close enough for me to identify the cadet riding in the student position—Dimitri, my best friend and rival for the top spot in our class.
A broad smile creased my face, and I lifted one hand in a wave. Dimitri didn’t return it. I couldn’t quite make out his expression, but he didn’t look happy. Either his own checkride hadn’t gone well, or he was still mad at me for the latest volley in our ongoing prank war.
Possibly both.
I was still feeling pretty smug about the itching powder I’d gotten into his leathers just before a training sortie last week. The fact that I’d managed to get our friends Zayne and Callum at the same time was a definite bonus. Zayne, ever the peacemaker, had taken the prank in stride. Callum had looked as if he wanted to stab me. And not in a fun way.
Too bad, because that dick had deserved every miserable second on his flight after what he’d done to me.
Gregor dropped his right wing, and the shift in gravity pulled my wandering thoughts back where they belonged—landing. The big dragon turned on short final before spiraling down to the landing field within the dragon campus walls. Silver wings flared and beat hard a final time just before his back legs touched the ground. Front legs followed, wings folded, and our flight was over.
Which meant debrief was next.
My hands shook with nerves as I undid the straps, carefully rolled them up, and secured them to the saddle for the next student. I glanced down at the ground, but Gregor snorted and helpfully cocked his front leg, giving me an easy path that didn’t involve sliding down his side or jumping straight to the ground.
I murmured my gratitude once my boots were firmly in the dirt again and twisted to face my instructor. Captain Durant’s expression was impassive, and my gut tightened to the point where I worried I was going to throw up on his leather boots.
And then he smiled.
“Excellent ride, Cadet Tavros.”
With those simple words, the instructor told me everything I needed to know.
I’d passed.
Not just passed. I’d passed the hardest checkride of the semester with an excellent. No way to know who held the top ranking until the instructors posted official scores at the end of the week, but an excellent was enough to keep me in the top five. Relief loosened the tension knotting my shoulders, and I bit the insides of my cheeks to keep my grin from breaking free.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Just remember to look up a little sooner when scanning for threats. Always think three-dimensionally.”
“Yes, sir,” I said with a solemn nod.
The big gray snorted again and nudged his rider pointedly. Captain Durant grinned up at his bondmate.
“Gregor says your seat was damn near perfect the entire flight, no matter what he did to throw you off balance. I think he’s a little miffed.” The instructor’s smile faded into a thoughtful frown. “Have you considered switching to grays, Tavros? I know your green is due to hatch soon, but it’s not too late.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said carefully. “But I’m happy with my choice.”
“Well, if you have any doubts at all, come see me before you bond. A rider like you would be wasted on rescue.”
Stunned at the magnitude of the compliment, I held onto my bearing by the skin of my teeth. Before I could embarrass myself, Gregor nudged his rider again and grumbled. This time, Captain Durant laughed.
“Yes, it’s time to eat, you bottomless pit.” He tilted his head toward the center of the academy. “Debrief over, Cadet. Go enjoy a little free time before your next event.”
“Yes, sir!”
No longer able to contain my grin, I turned away from instructor and dragon and tugged my flight cap off. Some of my long, copper hair had escaped my braid and immediately drifted into my eyes, but we were given leeway on dress and appearance regulations directly after a flight.
“Hey, Harper!”
My heart jumped at that familiar voice, but I took my time tucking my flight cap and goggles into my belt and smoothed out my expression into a blank mask before I turned. Dimitri strode across the grassy landing field, his short brown hair sticking up in sweaty spikes, flight cap clenched tight in one hand. He looked torn between annoyance and concern, a little furrow in his brow as his gaze searched mine.
“How’d you do?”
My lips twitched as I fought back a smile. “Oh, are you talking to me again?”
Annoyance won. So did my smile.
“Excellent,” I said with just a touch of smugness. “You?”
“Same.” His eyes narrowed. “What’d you mess up?”
“You first.” I stared a challenge up into his stupid brown eyes. He stepped close enough I had to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. I barely noticed when the two gray dragons cleared the landing field and moved past us, though I felt the ground shiver beneath my boots. It wasn’t until a griffin playfully buzzed us, flying so low over our heads the fan of feathers on his tail nearly brushed skin, that Dimitri broke with an irritated sigh.
“Slid out of position on the Immelmann by this much.” He held his fingers apart by a fraction of an inch. Not horrible, but I knew my best friend. He was beating himself up about it, so I admitted my own fuckup.
“I almost didn’t spot the ambush.”
Dimitri rolled his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you to look up, hotshot?”
I scowled and crossed my arms. “How many times do I have to tell you to look through your turns, asshole?”
We glared at each other for a handful of heartbeats before we both broke into grins. Together, we marched toward the busy campus, and just in time, too. One of the irritable reds flared serrated wings and landed, taking up far more space than necessary. We walked just a little faster as an annoyed hiss chased after us, but before we could clear the field, a harsh voice called out.
“Cadets!”
Dimitri and I spun in unison and snapped off crisp salutes to the brawny captain striding toward us. I didn’t recognize the rider—and I knew all of the academy instructors by sight if not by name—but I did recognize the red dragon looming over his shoulder. They had been the ambushers on my checkride.
The captain casually returned our salutes, fiery orange eyes flicking between us. “Which one of you flew with Durant?”
I lifted my chin slightly. “I did, sir.”
“Nero and I almost had you.” The corner of his mouth curled up in a predatory smile. “A few seconds slower, and we would have. A few seconds faster, and you might have matched my old score.”
“Matched, not beat, sir?” I asked, emboldened by the amusement in his eyes.
“Can’t beat perfection, Cadet.” He turned his attention to Dimitri. “As for you, her seat was better, but your situational awareness was top notch. Both of you keep it up, and maybe one day you’ll be as good as me.”
“Thank you, sir,” Dimitri said with quiet pride.
“Captain Westbrook!” One of the academy’s support staffers jogged up, a leather messenger satchel under one arm. “Dispatches are ready for you, sir.”
That explained why I didn’t recognize him—he was an active duty rider on a messenger relay. Sometimes, our instructors pulled them in as observers, and in this case, ambushers.
“Looks like playtime’s over for us.” Westbrook secured the satchel and leaped up into the saddle, tightening his straps with practiced efficiency. He glanced down at us with those fierce orange eyes. “Study hard and bond well. You both have the potential to do a lot of good, and we need every dragon rider we can get out on the Savinian border.”
Westbrook waved a sharp dismissal as Nero snapped his wings out in preparation to take off. As the red dragon sprang into the air, we jogged clear of the field and didn’t slow until we were in the middle of the busy campus.
Cadets hustled across the courtyard to their next class or training flight, shouts and banter and conversations blending into an overwhelming wave of sound that hit all the harder after the relative quiet of the skies. Before heading our separate ways, we paused next to an out of the way bench beneath the dappled shade of an ornamental maple tree.
Excitement bubbled up, and my smile broke free as I looked up at Dimitri. Not only had we both scored an excellent on our checkrides, we’d gotten one hell of a compliment from an active duty rider. And with the fear of failure a distant memory, I was suddenly very much looking forward to that evening’s sunset orientation flight. Even better, we’d get to fly it together.
“See you at pre-brief?”
Dimitri smirked. “Wouldn’t miss that flight for the world. Oh, and Harper?” He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His voice dropped low and teasing. “You’re out of regs.”
I ignored the shiver that arose when his fingertips brushed my cheek and swatted his hand away. “I’ll fix it after I check on my egg, asshole.”
“Just make sure you do it before an instructor dings you, hotshot.” His smirk deepened into a wicked grin. “Have fun at the hatchery.”
“I will,” I shot back, but suspicion unfurled deep in my gut as I stalked away from him. I knew that grin. That asshole was up to something. Running into Zayne and Callum loitering under the gates separating the dragon rider campus from the academy proper confirmed it.
“Hey, Harper.” Zayne shifted his weight as I drew near, apprehension and pride warring on his intelligent face.
“Zayne!” I called out brightly. “So weird that you guys are just standing here for no obvious reason.”
“Happy coincidence.” The bigger cadet smiled easily enough, but his gaze skipped away from mine, a dead giveaway he was involved in whatever prank was heading my way. There was no question about Callum.
“Brat,” he said casually, smug anticipation burning bright in his eyes.
“Cal. Are those your second-best flying leathers?” My voice dripped with false sympathy. “It must burn that your best set isn’t clean yet.”
Instead of anger, that lean bastard gave me a mischievous grin. The one that said he thought he’d gotten one over on me.
“You may have won a battle, brat . . .” He leaned closer and crooned, “But I’m gonna win the war.”
“We.” Zayne tilted his chin up, pride winning out over apprehension. “We’re going to win the war.”
“You boys keep thinking that.” I smiled as if I hadn’t a care in the world and sauntered away.
As I followed the paved path toward the hatchery, I felt their eyes on my back and kept on smiling. Let them watch. There was nothing between me and the hatchery, and the Mavens who ruled that precious building wouldn’t tolerate unprofessional behavior of any sort.
I was safe enough for now. Later though? Game on.
Halfway across the grassy quad, I ran into Bethany. My roommate was all muscle and focus, an unstoppable force of nature. She’d excelled in combat training and was one of the few female cadets entrusted with one of the fierce reds. They were the heart of our shock troops, but I didn’t envy her.
I’d joined the academy because I wanted to fly. Both of my parents were dragon riders, and I’d grown up in a border town surrounded by dozens of other dragon riders—and their dragons. Before I came to the academy, I’d never traveled further than twenty miles from my home, but I knew my situation wasn’t unique. Tennessan’s borders were dotted with towns just like mine, full of retired dragon and griffin riders.
Tennessan’s ready reserve force, guardians of our less contentious borders.
During my first year at the academy, everything changed. After twenty years of raids and minor skirmishes, our border clash with Savinia erupted into open war. Many unbonded cadets dropped out, wanting no part in frontline combat against the Savinians and their monsters. I’d stayed, but not because I wanted to fight.
The Savinian bastards did terrible things to captured riders, things to break them and twist them. Search and Rescue was instrumental in keeping downed riders out of enemy hands, and a green’s strength, camouflage, and hover capabilities made them perfect for that mission.
We were going to save people.
Bethany gave me an absent wave as I strolled up, most of her attention on her best friend Katie Bex, one of the unbonded griffin riders. The shorter girl bounced on her toes, warm brown eyes more than a little wild. I didn’t know her well enough to tease, or even to ask outright, but Bethany accurately interpreted my side-eye.
“It’s almost time,” she said quietly.
Understanding hit. Bex’s griffin was hatching soon. I smiled and wished her luck, but her whispered thanks was absent at best. Too anxious and excited and impatient to meet her bondmate. An echoing flutter rushed through me. My green wouldn’t hatch that soon, but soon enough.
A dark-haired cadet jogged around to the front of the hatchery and waved at her urgently. Bex took off like a shot.
“You’ve got this, Katie!” Bethany called after her in a battlefield bellow that would do any commanding officer proud. We followed at a slower pace. “So?”
“Passed.”
“Never doubted it for a second, girl.” She held out a fist, and I gently tapped it with my own. She eyed my thick flying leathers as she hauled open the reinforced steel hatchery door. “You sure you don’t want to change first?”
“Not enough time.” I braced myself as the outer door shut behind us, enclosing us in the dimly lit atrium, and pulled open the inner door. A wall of dense, humid air rolled over us, and I wasn’t the only one who faltered. As my lungs struggled to adjust, I gasped out, “You know all those stories we were raised on about the brave dragon riders who defend our country from the evil Savinians?”
“Yeah?” One blonde eyebrow rose high at my sarcastic tone.
“Did any of them mention the horrors of wearing thick leather in high humidity?” I tugged at the front of my flight jacket.
“Nope.”
“Didn’t think so.”
We exchanged a rueful grin and stepped into the heat.
A long central hallway stretched out before us. Built-in lights were evenly spaced along the ceiling, bathing the metal walls in a dim, yellow glow. Metal doors lined either side of the hall, each with a small glass panel at eye level. Griffin hatcheries, griffin crèches, dragon hatcheries, and at the far end of the hall, the dragon crèche. We only had to go halfway down the hall to reach the main dragon hatchery.
This time, I didn’t falter when Bethany pulled open the door. I stopped in my tracks.
At a sharp glance from one of the Mavens, I stepped onto the warm sands and closed the door behind me. The dragon hatchery was always the warmest chamber, but today the heat took my breath away. Bethany, looking almost comfortable in her lightweight mottled-green uniform, rolled her eyes and passed me a canteen.
“I’m not going to say I told you so.”
“Pretty sure you just did,” I muttered before I drained half the water and handed it back.
My gaze landed on my designated nest, and I grinned as I hustled across the sands. I might be the only idiot suffering in flying leathers out of dozens of uniformed cadets scattered across the orderly rows of nests, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. Not even when sweat popped up on my brow and gathered under my leathers. Because the dragon’s egg—my dragon’s egg—was just as beautiful as the last time I’d laid eyes on it.
I knelt in front of my nest, reached a hand out to caress the smooth shell half buried in sand—and froze.
“Oh gods, I know that look. What’s wrong this time?” Bethany asked in exasperation.
“I thought I heard a squeak,” I muttered as I brushed the sand away.
“And last week you thought the egg had a crack, but it was just a stray hair.” She glanced over from her significantly larger egg. “Would you relax? Your future bondmate is fine.”
I threw my hand up in a demand for silence. There it was again! Another squeak, louder this time, though that might be because I’d pressed my ear against the warm shell. Carefully, I picked up the heavy egg.
It felt different.
A wet crack echoed through the hatchery as the warm shell vibrated in my hands. Alarm whipped through me. It was too soon. My dragon wasn’t supposed to hatch for another two weeks.
My head snapped up, frantic gaze searching for one of the Mavens. The women who ruled the hatchery would know what to do. My eyes landed on Maven Naomi, clear across the vast chamber.
“I need help!”
My anxious shout cut across the quiet murmur of other cadets, and the older woman immediately set off across the sands in a long-legged stride. Before she could reach me, the hatchling gave a mighty squeak even Bethany could hear. She shot to her feet and gripped my shoulder to steady me when I swayed in a mix of sheer terror and excitement. I was about to meet my bondmate, the dragon I’d spend the rest of my life with!
My heart pounded so loudly I was amazed I could hear anything over its frantic beat, and I had to force my hands to relax on that precious egg. The lesson had been hammered home. No matter how much we wanted to help our dragons, they had to break free on their own. It was important to their development . . . but mine was hatching early. I held my breath as the smooth perfection of the egg distorted and a wing pushed up and out of its warm haven.
A feathered wing.
A sharp beak flung another piece of shell out of the way, and an avian head rose up, wobbling unsteadily as he blindly searched. The egg flexed in my hands as he struggled to get free, and he let out a frustrated growl. Back legs kicked out hard, and I scrambled to keep the hatchling from tumbling to the floor along with his discarded shell.
His adorable little roar sounded equal parts hungry and triumphant, and he extended feline limbs in a luxurious stretch. Damp fur tickled my hands, and delicate nails that would one day be fearsome claws flicked out from soft paws and pricked the thin skin of my forearms. The tufted ears were still flattened to his skull, and it was impossible to tell what color the feathers or fur were, soaked as they were from the amniotic fluids.
“What?” I gasped as a feline tail wrapped around my arm, the spray of feathers at the end a wet clump against my elbow. “A griffin?”
Shock held me immobile for vital seconds. Where was my dragon?
The Maven shouted in alarm as she broke into a sprint. “Close your eyes now, Cadet Tavros!”
Too late. The cub opened his eyes . . . and found mine.
I couldn’t look away, couldn’t blink, not even when my eyes stung and watered uncontrollably. Tears poured down my face, but I wasn’t crying. My blue eyes were changing, shifting, and so were the griffin’s—a visible manifestation of the forming bond. The magic of bonding was an entanglement of two souls and demanded like for like. How else were you supposed to see through your bondmate’s eyes if they didn’t match?
Even as I watched, blue crept into his crimson gaze, the colors blending in a hypnotic swirl. A second, an eternity later, the burning faded away as if it had never been. I didn’t need a mirror to know my eyes were now a perfect match to the brilliant purple of the tiny griffin in my arms.
“No,” I moaned, on the verge of actually crying. This couldn’t be happening. I was supposed to be a dragon rider. I was supposed to fly, to save people . . . to . . . the baby griffin nuzzled my chest and a wave of undeniable love washed through the nascent bond.
My knees hit the warm sands, and I cradled him close to my chest. Mine. He was mine now. And I was his.
Only death could tear us apart.