Free The Warrior King (Book 4) by Michael Wallace Page A

body. The dragon pitched her off, and she’d fallen from the sky as the monster fled, crippled and bellowing in pain. Daria’s golden griffin caught her in its talons before she hit the ground and was killed.
    The story made Darik catch his breath, but Daria seemed to think the entire thing of only mild interest and certainly unheroic. She’d only been doing her duty, after all.
    “Anyway, it’s all worth it, because now we’re together, at least for a few hours. I only wish you could come with me tonight.” She sighed. “But I know it’s important for Markal to hunt for the ravagers, so I must carry him north. How long will you stay in Marrabat?”
    “Not long, I hope. Where will you go after you’ve carried Markal? How will I find you? I want to fly with you again.”
    “Go to the mountains by Montcrag. I’ll look for you every day. And then we’ll fly together, I promise.”
    “There’s nothing I want more.”
    She smiled, then looked down, suddenly seeming shy.
    It felt bold and reckless to be so blunt in his desires, an openness so different from the little dance would-be partners performed in Balsalom. Everything there was coded, gestures, perfect to withdraw and claim that your overtures had been misunderstood. But Daria was so open herself. He didn’t know what would happen if he turned her down, if she would simply smile and shrug and go on with her life without a backward glance, or if she would be devastated. He had no intention of testing her feelings.
    Daria had charmed him from the first moment they’d met. The dark wizard had been assaulting the castle gates at Montcrag when Daria and her father led a flock of screaming griffins and their riders into the castle to rescue its defenders. Darik’s first flight had been terrifying and exhilarating in turns. His arms wrapped around this beautiful, carefree girl as they hurtled over the mountainside atop six hundred pounds of muscle, claw, wing, and beak. Her long dark hair had swung free in the wind, brushing his face like a horse’s mane. By the time they landed, he was smitten, and no warning from Whelan or Markal about taking advantage of this sheltered mountain girl could turn him away. Markal had been right about one thing: Darik was in no way the equal of the young head of the griffin riders.
    But in another way, the wizard was wrong. If Daria was strong enough to fight off dragon wasps and their riders, even face down a full-grown dragon, then she was strong enough to make her own decisions about who she would love. And Darik didn’t much care if part of that reason was that he was one of the few young men she’d met in her sheltered life.
    “It’s very hot water,” Daria said, “but still cooler than walking around up there. Go on, put your feet in.”
    Darik slipped off his sandals and dipped his feet in. The water certainly wasn’t as cool as a mountain stream, but it wasn’t exactly hot either. More like tepid. But to a griffin rider of the high mountains like Daria, it must feel uncomfortably warm.
    “Now come over here,” she said.
    He edged along the side of the pool until he was next to her. She touched his hand. He squeezed her fingers.
    “How do people live in this heat?” she asked.
    “They’re used to it. If you took these desert people up to the mountains, most of them would freeze to death.”
    “And there are so many of them. Dozens and dozens and dozens. All pressing against each other, rubbing together in the streets. I think hundreds, maybe even thousands.”  
    “Tens of thousands,” he said.
    “So many! We flew high above the city near the clouds so we wouldn’t be spotted. Narud says their eyes aren’t very good, but I could see them fine. I’m glad we stayed high. I would have been scared to come lower and have all of those people spot me.”
    “You’ve battled dragons, but it’s people who scare you?” Darik asked with a smile. 
    “They’re terrifying,” she insisted. She looked at him