That beautifully irritating brain of his malfunctioned. It was the only explanation for why Sebastian resisted Astrid's rather intelligent and very reasonable demand to flee from the colossal fire-breathing monster of Demue looming above their insignificant, flammable heads.

To be fair, his insubordination should not have surprised Astrid. Curiosity killed the cat, but she was beginning to wonder if it drowned bass, as well.

"Move!" she urged again.

Sure, Astrid had trained for battle the majority of her life. Hel, she had even conquered an elvish Elder not that long ago. Not to mention the famed warrior of the Court of Avylon whom she had tortured; yet being a fighter meant being smart, training her brain to use its intellect, analyzing the strengths and limitations of her skills.

Her opponent's, as well.

Which meant that defeating a ferocious dragon-shifter with nothing but a small dagger, fizzling elemental burnout, and a scholar whose choice of weapon would be a ridiculously thick non-fiction biography proved to categorize itself into the mental list that held her scarce limitations.

Because that was not some mechanical beast of Davina's imagination; it was the real thing. A creature that would certainly eat her if she dared to ride it.

"Bloody constellation, my arse." Her fingers clutched Sebastian's wrist so tightly that his bones ground beneath her grasp when he twisted away to stare up at the skies. What a complete and utter fool. "Stars do not fly, Bash! You are not an astronomer—!"

"I know. I already said that." Sebastian tugged at her again. His force dragged them both into a crouch behind a hydrangea bush that bloomed with unnaturally bright colors. Everything was color here; an easily visible target from a predator that lurked above, and Sebastian tugged them both straight into its bullseye.

Besides, since when had he grown strong enough to move her?

His breaths came quick and hot. "There's another Spirit in those woods, remember? I sensed two."

"Does the other one also have talons and smoking nostrils that could incinerate us? Because if not, I'll wager our chances—!"

He forced her argumentative head down as the massive shadow soared over them, coating their amethyst-tinted plant into shades of sooty gray. Astrid shoved at his heavy, protective arm, swiping out from under him when he tried to hold her in his hidden crouch. Once free, she remained low on her own accord, poised on the balls of her feet, legs vibrating with pent-up adrenaline. Her glare met his blazing cheeks, like two blaring solar flares that warned of encroaching danger.

No shi—

A petal from one of the hydrangeas tickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Her knife slashed the sneaky offender from its stem before it could dare touch her again. "Fat load of help a flower is going to be against a dragon, Seabass!"

His eyes gleamed in the indigo darkness, anxious pupils taking up the entirety of his struck-dumb gaze. "It's a large plant," he muttered, "not a flower."

"It's kindling!" She grabbed his face and tugged it to her, brows touching. Their breaths shuddered between them, the momentary stillness amidst the nearing battle oddly unnerving.

Sweet.

Sweet like burning sage that a crazy, malicious dragon set afire. Curse the Scribes! Her scoff burned her throat when his palm fell to her knee, a tumbling, flaming boulder searching for a place to rest.

Because they were both about to char.

She flicked him straight between the eyes. "Get a grip!"

Sebastian startled with a yelp, but focus shuttered over his numb expression, lips popping open in silent words. Fire, they mouthed. Right. Sebastian hated fire. Gods and goddesses, help her. Astrid shook him by the shoulders as if to jostle the fear from him. To their left, the branches of trees croaked and creaked as a mighty breath disturbed the utmost tops of them. A few acorns fell like shrapnel, smashing into the ground with overly loud plinks. She swallowed her thumping heart and jabbed her finger under Sebastian's chin.

"I need a teammate." She rushed the words at him. "Someone I can trust. That's you. You're the only one with access to the elements at present moment. We've conquered dragons once; we can do it again. Help me."

When he searched her face, Astrid's chest stilled. A drawn out moment she knew they couldn't afford; yet, she felt powerless to stop it. She watched as the blacks of his eyes expanded and contracted, revealing the earthy hazel of his large, honest irises. Brown, emerald, golden flecks flickering like stardust along the returning bronze color of his cheeks.

Sebastian splayed his fingers into the pebbles and dirt beneath them, grounding himself, and nodded.

Then, he shut his eyes and locked her out.

If exasperated arms made a sound when being thrown up into the air, it would have been the one Astrid made. "Glah! This is hardly an ideal time for a nap—!"

A slight tug behind her navel, right where she had always felt his thread of Spirit intertwine with her own. Astrid gasped, blood rushing from her veins, when she heard his gentle, centering voice in her head:

Well, it's some type of giant winged reptile alright.

Astrid choked on a sputtering laugh.

Its thread burns white-hot.

Hot was the way dread sludged its suffocating weight from her heart to her smallest toe, clogging her breaths, stuffing her limbs with burdening guilt. Because she shouldn't be hearing him like this: through the threads of their souls. Such a phenomenon was the farthest thing from common. Somehow further still from rare. Closest to impossible. Or, rather, statistically speaking, improbable, because elves could sense the emotions of their beloveds after mating rituals. Fae used God Lumu's threads to communicate with their bonded vyre-pups even whilst realms apart.

Bondage.

Mates.

The Curse of Authors.

Her palm scraped against the rough pebbles as Astrid scrambled backwards, the branches of the bush poking into her spine like spears. Sebastian, still tracking and focusing on the two threads he followed, would have remained unaware of the turmoil raging through her veins if her heel hadn't kicked his elbow. It swept his arm out from underneath him, and he fell backwards. His right temple smacked into her knee before landing on the meatiest part of her thigh.

Somehow, it also felt to be the most sensitive part of her entire panicked body.

"No! Stop." She thrust him away. "Get off!"

He struggled to sit up. "That other thread—" If he heard the frazzled zing to Astrid's tone, he failed to acknowledge it—"the one that doesn't belong to that dragon, it felt...familiar."

"It was me, you dolt!"

"What?" His gaze fell onto her. "No. I know yours, it feels like the prickly brush of needles from a fir tree. Spicy, like the scent of rosemary—"

"Gods, Bash!" She felt the blood rush from her face. "You are not meant to love me!"

One of his thick brows quirked. "I never said anything about—"

A brilliantly intimidating roar vibrated down from the celestial heavens and straight into Astrid's soul. Her jaw rattled and clenched, and she grasped onto Sebastian again, his shoulder this time. When he glanced at her, cheeks pale, Astrid felt the thread of his Spirit brush against her mind again, an impressive swear word this time mingled with the souring taste of absolute panic.

"Does that mean it has seen us?" he whispered. "Perhaps we should make a run for the lake?"

Astrid barely contained her seething growl. "I am cursed, remember?" She flourished her blade between them. "I have a plan. If it fails, you jump into that blasted water, okay?"

Sebastian eyed her short dagger with what would have been a comically dubious expression if they weren't currently facing a murderous, fanged dragon! "I could cut its thread of Spirit," Sebastian offered, "like I did with that vyre."

"Brilliant idea," she said, "except for the fact a dragon is about a hundred times larger than a bloody vyre, which would mean its thread is about a thousand times more difficult to sever."

His words were hushed as if whispering would somehow make them invisible. "How does that math work out, exactly?"

"Curse the Skies, Seabass!" She desperately wished she had a third hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Listen, if I can get a good shot at its underbelly, I could injure it, which may distract it long enough for you to get a better grasp of its soul's thread."

"Why the underbelly?"

"Because its protective scales are weaker there! Must you know everything?"

"So, we're going with my Spirit-severing idea?" he asked.

"I swear to the gods, I am going to knife you instead if you don't shut the Hel up—"

The dragon let loose another impressive roar, still flameless, but it swooped lower this time. Astrid reached for Sebastian the same moment he grabbed for her, and the two of them collapsed onto their bellies, legs and arms tangled together. They tried to throw their hands over their heads, fingers attempting to unwind from each other's. As if that would protect them.

He was turning her into an imbecile.

Astrid shook her braids; one of them had come undone and the strands slapped against her cheek. "The next time it dives low, I'm going in." She grasped his squared chin and eyed him. "Will you be ready?"

His expression narrowed. "I have your back, Astrid."

"My spine will be useless in an inferno," she countered. "It would be best if you protect my life."

A nod. "I'm ready."

She crouched onto her toes again, her gaze already tracking the looming shadow. Its wings nearly blocked out the sun, the clouds, the entire range of the sky. Her blade seemed significantly smaller somehow. "Remember, get to the lake if—"

Sebastian gasped then, a sound like a hissing teapot that had begun to boil. She spun to him, knife flailing, half-expecting to see his golden flesh up in raging flames, but instead he appeared to have frozen over. An ice sculpture, muscles tight, a struck look to his face. His eyes were the only parts that moved, scurrying about the earth and pebbles as if a dragon-slaying weapon lay buried there.

If only.

"That other Spirit, I know it."

He half-raised to his feet, thoughts in a trance, dragon seemingly all but forgotten, just as a tinkling, husky voice cried out from the trees:

"Bash!"

Astrid felt her molars grind against each other in rebellion against the unhelpfully loud, intrusive sound. Curse that Husky Street Girl. Astrid could never deny that Abel always had impeccable timing.

- - -

Oh, no. Abel has joined in on the fun now. Does that mean Matthias is lurking around somewhere nearby? And what about this dragon? Will it ever touch down on the ground? You shall find out in the next chapter! :)

Thanks for reading!!