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Part II: Delris

Qeryth had been moony for days, so it was just a matter of time before she rose. She managed to hold out until the evening before a rest day, but gave Delris only a couple of minutes’ warning once she decided to go up. He and his brother were still sitting down at supper. With a smirk, he handed his fork to Osris, cutting the man off mid-sentence, and left the table without any indication as to why. He sprinted out to the bowl to where his dragon was crouched glowing and ready to spring, eyes as deeply purple as he’d ever seen them.

You should blood first, he said, resting a hand on her muzzle. Get a little higher in the sky this time. Qeryth nuzzled him, then let out a tense hiss before taking off for the feeding pens. He knew she'd rather go up immediately and rid herself of the urgent fires in her ichor, but last time she rose, her strength gave out far too close to the ground for Del's liking.

A few minutes later, the green roared and took to the air, calling out the names of any favored males she could see, and daring the rest to join them. They answered her summons, climbing into the sky with beats of powerful wings. She didn’t look behind until she was high enough to graze the spires, pleased to see who followed—brown Daoth in particular. He was inching ahead of his closest competitors, sending familiar mental bursts of love that crashed into the green and ran over her like warm ocean waves. Qeryth cared for the brown very much, but his rider, on the other claw…

Below, some of her suitors’ riders had gathered with hers. The woman who rode Daoth was among them, responding to her dragon’s excitement. It was no surprise, for she never needed an invitation even outside of a flight. Qeryth felt Delris’ growing dismay, then a twinge of panic as the brownrider approached him with a smile, reaching for his shirt collar. He pushed her hand away, at the same time sending assurance to the green that all would be well. Have Daoth if you want him, sugarpudding. I’ll walk away… or run, if I have to. The woman in front of him stepped closer, pausing in the middle of a second reach when he fixed her with a pained look. “Jecella, we’ve talked about this.”

“But… Del, I don’t understand. Why not? Why don’t you want me anymore? Our dragons still like each other…” She compromised her original goal and tried to take his hand, and failing that as he drew back, took hold of his sleeve instead. Jecella wasn’t normally quite that determined, but the clamor of dragonfervor during a flight was enough to set off anyone predisposed to being overemotional.

Delris wasn’t in the habit of explaining things more than once, but it felt like the thousandth time with that girl. “They don’t get to decide for me. Sorry, Jecella.”

He hated the way her face fell, but said nothing more. This awkward situation was a direct result of their dragons’ strong bond. They were clutchsiblings and had always been frequent flight partners. Qeryth’s first flight was, of course, the first experience either rider’d had being influenced by the emotions of their own dragons. Delris had believed the new and distinctly wonderful things he’d felt were because there was something distinctly wonderful about Jecella. He’d been excited about her in a way he’d never been over a girl before. It was great for a while, but then the old fears began to creep in.

He’d realized his mistake long ago—that it wasn’t real, just emotional residue from their dragons—and made the necessary corrections, chalking it up to nothing more than another lie about love. Another stupid romantic dragonrider myth to banish away into his novels, where they belonged. The problem was, it seemed that Jecella had never stopped believing there was something distinctly wonderful about him.

She wasn’t quite done with her appeal, her voice dropping in volume even as it rose in pitch. Delris drew in a long breath through his nose, hearing little of what she said as he mentally focused in on Qeryth, making sure she was still flying safely.

When he came back to his surroundings, movement beyond Jecella caught his attention. There was a girl passing by, keeping her head down as if trying to avoid the group he stood with. She had the longest golden hair and wore numerous pieces of jewelry. Her bright green eyes met his with some reluctance when she noticed him. She looked as weary of that scene as he felt, so much so that he was surprised when she came near and held out her hand, giving him the chance to escape. Jecella had driven herself to tears by then, but let him pass.

Daoth still pursues, Qeryth said, seemingly with some triumph. She was glad the brown hadn’t dropped out of the flight, but Delris knew she didn’t enjoy making his rider sad. There would be quiet in their weyr for some time after her exhilaration faded.

The green-eyed girl walked inside with Delris, seemingly unaware of the waves of emotion coming from the participants of Qeryth's flight. A glance at her knot proved she didn't have a dragon of her own, but would almost certainly be hoping for one from the Weyr's next clutch. From there, he struggled not to look at anything else, biting the inside of his cheek to distract from Qeryth's fiery feelings toward her suitors. When she released his hand, he was almost more relieved to be freed from that tension than he was about leaving Jecella behind. The girl appeared a bit wary, but didn't immediately excuse herself. She might have been waiting for him to say he was all right, or maybe waiting for some sort of dismissal. “Sorry to put you on the spot like that,” he said to her, not quite ready to acknowledge either option.

“It's no problem. It's tough dealing with those awkward flight situations.” She'd said it with the nonchalance of someone who'd seen her fair share of dragonflights, but Delris found he couldn't recall seeing her at the Weyr in the turns before, only once or twice within the past few months. Her long hair and apparent habit of wearing so many trinkets and piercings were hard to miss. He'd idly admired and wondered who she was and where she'd come from, but hadn't had time to follow up. Now the opportunity was right there, presenting itself.

And there was still Jecella to worry about. She'd no doubt be even more interested in learning about this new “friend” and what she'd been up to, including whose weyr she visited... or failed to visit. “Sorry to ask, but would you mind coming up to my weyr for just a bit?” It came out a little more suddenly than he'd intended, but that familiar sick feeling in his stomach was hard to ignore. “If we separate now, someone might talk, and it might get back to… well, to her. This isn’t the first time she’d done this, and I really don’t want to make waves.”

The girl's eyes had hardened, but she relaxed again once he'd explained the reason for his rather blunt request. She was not receptive to whatever suggestion she’d clearly assumed he was trying to imply. “Sure.”

The sick feeling was already beginning to fade, but other feelings that simmered just beneath the surface were stirring into a slow boil. Though he hadn’t intended it at first, this encounter was beginning to follow his usual script closely enough that certain possibilities were fast coming into consideration. Delris took the girl to his and Qeryth’s weyr, high up above the lake and so small that it was practically a hole in the wall. The tour was quite short, and much of it was spent trying to keep his eyes and thoughts on what he was talking about, rather than what his dragon-influenced mind was fascinated by. The end result was a series of babbling run-on sentences that he barely even remembered saying.

He almost misinterpreted her intent at first when she touched him, pressing her soft hand over his mouth to silence him, but the look on her face was not inviting… until she blushed. Their eyes were locked, black against green, almost long enough for him to break. Then the girl stepped away, as shy as could be. Delris clenched one hand into a fist and mentally wrenched himself back, careful not to upset Qeryth as he did so. The effort caused a faint but quickly escalating ache in his head and pinpricks in his temples. The green was nearly at her limits, every thought and emotion honed in on the male she was going to choose.

“Maybe it’s better if you go,” he said.

“I don’t mind staying a few minutes more,” said the girl, eyes downcast as she fussed with her long hair.

Why did she have to argue now? “No, you should go. I’m probably not very fun when dealing with a headache.”

Was it just his emotion-fogged imagination, or did she somehow seem disappointed? Her nod was too slow. Her expression too near to wistful. She—

Qeryth and her lover tangled in the air, a shared jolt of passion battering the last of the man's self-control to shreds. He was too far gone to resist, too used to giving in to the temptation. He reached for the girl, expecting her to refuse and leave, but after but a moment’s hesitation on her part, she willingly came to him.




Delris awoke to the contented mental rumbles of his dragon, who lay curled about the flight’s victor on the ledge outside. He heard something about breakfast, and nodded. Qeryth hadn’t been caught by Daoth this time, but she was still immensely pleased with her choice. I was sure to fly high, she said sleepily. And I’ll do the same next time. It was such a long and lovely fall.

You did wonderfully, sweetroll.

I see you enjoyed it too.

Very much.

The thought of it made him turn his attention outward, looking around for the source of that enjoyment.

“Sleep well?” she asked.

He grinned as he answered in the affirmative, once again admiring her: the long hair and pale skin; her faint blush; the way her choice of earrings jangled and brought out the color of her eyes. If he had his way, they’d both be enjoying that quality of “sleep” for a while longer. The thought of it made it a simple task for him to be completely at ease with her as they idled the morning away, casually twining fingers with her or sliding aside that well-kept curtain of hair to kiss the nape of her neck.

But then, as usual, a sour note was played into this perfect little melody.

“I was thinking, if you and your green are up to it, maybe we could go on a picnic today and get to know each other better—or next rest day if your wing is on the roster?”

Already, she wanted to get familiar. Too familiar. Warning bells went off in his mind, and he instantly feared she might turn out to be as needy as Jecella.

“I’m Lezie, by the way. I’m newer here, but you’ve probably heard of my sister and Uridith…”

And she was a goldrider’s sister. He wanted even less to get himself involved with such “high and mighty” types. If he offended one of them, he would be guilty until proven innocent… if he was even allowed to defend himself!

“…I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot. You just said you were new. I had no idea… This has been nice. Really nice, but…” Delris felt cold inside, though outwardly he would have seemed contrite as he begged her pardon for the sudden dismissal. He didn’t care just then. He just wanted her to go away. He didn’t want another Jecella to deal with.


Later, Qeryth peered into the weyr from the ledge entrance as Delris cleaned the floor of the fruit and other food that had been delivered for breakfast, and that Lezie had thrown as she rushed out. Redberry juice stained the front of his shirt where the tray had collided with his chest. He’d been anxious when he first set to work, but had worked himself into a frustrated tizzy. The green all but ordered him to change his clothes, go down to the dining hall and eat, Osris was already waiting for him. She knew better than to try to talk to him herself just then, for she knew his heart as well as she knew her own. Instead, the best thing for him was to let it all out to his brother, in his own way and time.

He spotted Osris and strode over to his table, giving him a tweak on the earlobe as he passed to sit on the next furthest seat. The room was fairly empty, it being so late for breakfast at that point that kitchen staff were already cleaning up, so he felt free to start right into it, keeping his tone quiet enough for privacy, but scathingly sarcastic. “Another great flight.”

Os gave him a sideward glance, scowling as he rubbed his ear, and punched Del’s shoulder hard enough to make him grunt in pain. “So shut yourself in your weyr next time. Or jump into the lake. Your ledge would be a good place to do it from.”

Delris wasn’t about to try and argue semantics. He had been shut in his weyr… with a willing participant. He took a buttered roll from his brother’s plate and bit into it ravenously. “It was fine. She just had to go and complicate things.”

“They all seem to do that, don’t they.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Not all. Just the good ones.”

“Yeah. The good ones.”

Delris stuffed the rest of the roll into his mouth and grinned flippantly at Osris, conveniently chewing away the time in which his brother’d paused for a response after that pointed statement.

When it was clear that the desired response was not forthcoming, Osris steepled his fingers and raised a brow in vague amusement at something that Delris couldn’t figure out. When Del raised a brow of his own, Os smirked and said, “Qeryth tells me that sometimes you’re good.”

“I would never.”