Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
My breath falters.
We didn’t find the irids; they found us.
We did it. They’re here.
Steam gusts across my face, and my stomach clenches. They’re here and really close with really big teeth.
The one directly in front of us flares their nostrils, and a sound like a slide whistle fills my head, pitching from low to painfully high in less than a heartbeat.
“Hello, human.”
What we know about dragonkind is nothing compared to what we don’t.
—Colonel Kaori’s Field Guide to Dragonkind
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
What in the actual fuck. I draw back and stare at the irid, the knife loose in my grip.
Dragons don’t speak to humans they’re not bonded to, yet that deep, gruff voice definitely does not belong to Tairn.
“What is going—” Ridoc starts, coming up behind me. “Oh shit.”
Half the dragon heads swing his way as he runs toward me, while the other half keep their eyes and enormous jaws pointed in my direction.
“Are we happy?” he asks as he reaches my side in his bare feet. “Are we scared?”
I nod.
“Why do you not answer me?” the dragon asks.
“Perhaps the human female lacks intelligence,” a high voice chimes in, and the dragon on the right lifts her head.
My jaw drops. Guess arrogance is a universal dragon trait.
“She’s just surprised.” Andarna rises, but she leaves her head level with the others. “And you’re in her face.”
To my complete and utter shock, all six dragons take a step back.
“Thank you,” Andarna says.
“You speak our language?” I ask the irids.
“We are magic,” the male replies like it’s the most obvious reason in the world.
“Did they just respect your personal space?” Ridoc whispers, then yanks his hands over his ears and flinches. “What was that?”
“It is rude to speak as though we cannot hear you,” the female says from the right.
Ridoc’s eyes widen.
“It is more offensive to lift a blade at us.” The snappy schoolteacher voice comes from the left, I think.
“I don’t know you, and I’m not going to let you hurt her.” I glare at the one whose scales flicker to green.
“And you feel a dagger is sufficient.” Her nostrils flare. “I believe you are right, Dasyn. The human female lacks intelligence.”
Rude. But she’s right about the first part. I sheathe the dagger.
“You are irid.” The male in front of us changes the subject, his giant head tilting as he studies Andarna.
Her scales change from black to the green of the jungle, then ripple to blue, mirroring the sky just like the male. “I am irid.”
“Holy shit,” Ridoc says. “Was that Andarna?”
“I think when they make that whistle sound, it connects you to the irids,” I mutter.
“Yet you choose black as your resting color?” the female asks Andarna from the right.
“It is acceptable in my ho—” She breathes out in a huff. “In Navarre.”
The one diagonally to my left lifts their head. “She is the criterion.”
The other five flinch and draw back.
“Is that a good thing?” Ridoc signs.
“I don’t know,” I sign back, my heartbeat easing slightly as they give us a little more space.
Wingbeats fill the air and the irids’ heads lift skyward as darkness falls on top of us. Tairn lands hard, shaking the ground like thunder, his back claws digging into the sand to the left of Ridoc and the right of Andarna.
My heart stutters, and I can’t decide if I’m more relieved that he’s arrived or increasingly terrified at the thought of losing them both should the irids attack.
Dragons aren’t exactly predictable, and I know nothing about the ones in front of us.
“My human,” Tairn warns, swinging his tail. Trees crackle and crash behind us as he snaps his teeth at the irids. At least, I think that’s what’s happening, but all I can see is his underbelly and the legs of the irids.
“No!” Andarna scrambles out from beneath him and pivots as though staring him down. “They won’t hurt her. They’re my family.” She turns in a circle. “She’s my human, too.”
My stomach twists. They might be her family, but she doesn’t know them, and there’s every chance they’ll kill us all. We’ve been so busy trying to find them that we haven’t given much thought to what would happen when we did.
“Are humans so rare in Navarre that you must share?” the female on the left snaps.
“Do you not have another one under there?” a different voice asks.
Something drips to the left, and my gaze jumps past a smiling Ridoc.
Aotrom slithers forward at Tairn’s side, saliva dripping from his exposed fangs as he emerges from the trees. He growls low in his throat, giving a warning I don’t need translated.
Mine.
“We have no interest in the humans,” the male declares. “And no quarrel with either of you. We’ve come only to speak to the irid.”
“Andarna,” Tairn corrects him.
“Andarna,” the female to the right says gently.
Tairn retreats step by careful step until Ridoc and I stand between his front claws, his back ones filling the space his tail just cleared.