Rider King ✓

30

Warning: self-harm is depicted in this chapter

We make it through the jungle and realize we're crossing a Cloud of Rehyr too late. It's raining, but within a minute it's dry and a tornado forms from thin air. The winds are so rough that we know we won't make it through without being blown away. The only fortunate part of the situation is that we're at the edge of the forest where there is less foliage.

While Dramon and his men fend for longer, I'm struggling to walk through the rough winds because I'm a hundred pounds lighter and only have one good leg.

Seeing my struggle, Dramon touches my shoulder and pulls me down so I'm flat on my back. I widen my eyes, remembering the last thing that happened when I was under him. Instead of shifting my underwear aside and plugging me so full that I forget a damn tornado is roaring nearby, he lowers himself to flatten his chest against mine. I grip handfuls of his jerkin shirt to anchor him— more to keep him from flying away than to keep myself pinned.

Wind roars in my ears and dirt scrapes my face. I cough once, and then I feel pressure on my head when Dramon presses his palms to protect my ears. Then, he lowers his forehead and breathes against me. Our lips are touching, but there's no passion in this kiss. He's telling me that he's here, looking over me, surviving with me.

For some reason, this man, who has hurt and confused me a dozen times, makes my chest feel things it has no business feelings. I'm serene. There is no calm after the storm, because the calm is now.

When everything settles, Dramon's bandages are brown with dirt. I'm relieved to see that the rest of the men are unscathed, but that quickly turns to panic when I don't find my cane anywhere. I look all over the dirt, eventually falling to my good knee and digging through the dirt like a rodent. I forget everyone around me. The serenity I felt? It's now buried along with my cane.

"It's gone," Dramon says behind me.

I don't listen to him.

Dramon snatches my bicep. "It is alright."

"No, it's not alright!" I snap in my panic. "I am nothing without it."

I disappear into Dramon's embrace when he pulls me to him.

"You do not need it. I would carry you to the Underworld and back."

I breathe against his sweaty, dusty chest and whisper, "I don't want to look weak."

"You don't need a cane to prove your strength." He swings an arm under me and lifts me so I'm straddling Treysa. With his hand covering my bad knee, he leads us out of the wilderness and to his Clan over the next two days.

I look no different. My hair is still free, my skin still dark, and my pants ripped in one too many places, but the Clan looks at me like they're star stuck.

Dramon comes around to grab my waist and pull me down. He swings me into his arms and carries me to the empty tent at the edge. He sets me down and quickly digs through chests to pull out furs for the bedroll.

"Here." He guides me down. "I will get you a bath, and food, and clothing, and—"

"Dramon," I interject. I pull him to sit beside me and toss a thigh over to straddle him.

His eyes are panicked— a rarity for a Rider King, and it's all because of me. He's afraid that he'll lose me again now that I'm back in the Clan. Last time I was here, it was their gossip and his negligence that drove me apart. I can't pin it all on Dramon, because he has been glued to my side to make things better.

"No one looked at me sideways, and we will discuss what happens if they do."

His eyes flicker with hesitation.