The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride

Chapter 183: Breathe, girls!



He looked at them both, and added with a lift of his brow, "Dragons do prefer lighter riders. Still, more important than weight is control. In the sky, you must learn to lead. If a dragon panics, if he goes berserk, you have to be the one who reigns in his power."

Gloria blinked, turning to Ren in confusion. "What does that even mean? It’s too vague."

Ren gave a small shrug. "I don’t know. I haven’t tried it in real flight... not yet."

She looked toward her father, the King of Alvonia, who was already watching them with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Do you want to give it a try?" he asked, voice light but full of challenge.

"The three of us?" Ren glanced at the saddle, brows raised.

"Yes," the King said. "I have a three-seater saddle. We’ll switch it out."

Gloria’s hand slid along Sunkiath’s side. The dragon let out a low, vibrating growl, not hostile, but aware. She looked up, concerned. "Are we not too heavy for him?"

The King laughed, full-throated and fond. "No. You two are featherlight. And Sunkiath is colossal."

He was right. One of Sunkiath’s scales was as large as a man’s arm, thick, gleaming, and ancient, like armor forged by time itself. Could it break at all?

"Take the potion," the King advised. "It will protect your lungs from the sulfur."

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