Ambrose shrugged. "I tried."
All of a sudden, Willoughby did move. He turned to Magenta, dropping to his knees before her like he was about to propose.
On the World Tree, was he about to ask her to marry him?
Not before me he didn't...
Yet before I could also throw myself into the snow, Willoughby grasped Magenta's hands between his. His eyes were emerald pools in the pale of his face.
"What on my wings do you think you're doing?" Lysander gasped, glancing underneath his eyelashes at Titus.
Willoughby continued to stare at Magenta like he hadn't heard Lysander. "It's dishonorable for me to take part in the tournament. Ask me not to fly. How can I? We're not rivals, and if I win, then you and Fox shall—"
"Stop making a spectacle of your royal self." Lysander tugged on his arm.
Willoughby looked torn. His gaze was anguished and confused.
Us Immortals had done that. We'd convinced him to break bonds with the Princes and become an Immortal, but how conflicted must he be?
He was in serious danger because of us.
Magenta firmly pulled him back onto his feet. "I shall ask no such thing of you. There's no dishonor. You have a duty to try to win, just as we Immortals shall do everything under the witching heavens to stop you. I shan't give Damelza or your brother the excuse to harm you." She stroked her thumb over the back of Willoughby’s hand. "What would happen to you, were you to refuse to fly in front of your king? Would it not be treason yet again to disobey his order?"
Lysander wrapped his arms around Willoughby's shoulders, pulling him away from Magenta. "He'd never do anything so foolish." He turned Willoughby around, shaking him. "Don't, Will, please."
Will...?
Just for a moment, Lysander's voice softened in his desperation to something loving.
"Will you leave off fussing? Your daft selves are being watched." Ambrose snapped the whip, and Bask jumped again. Immediately, Lysander pretended that he was simply smartening up Willoughby's coat, as he swept snowflakes from his shoulders. "Let's get you into the air in style."
All of a sudden, Berlin's "Take My Breath Away" burst out with all the romantic longing and welling passion of a joke that was worthy of Loki.
Magenta clapped her hands. "Oh, this popular music I like. It's pretty and makes me feel all floaty inside."
I arched my brow at Ambrose, who was smirking. "The Top Gun theme tune, seriously?"
"What, boy? A professor doesn't get to have a sense of humor?"
Bask huffed. "A dark one."
"A Seelie doesn't," Lysander added.
I winced. Baiting your professor was good teamwork with Bask, but crappy survival instincts.
Ambrose stalked to Lysander, tipping up his chin with the hilt of his whip. "Aye, right, but Unseelie do…?"
Lysander's eyes flashed, and for a moment, I thought that he'd slap away the whip. Instead, he held himself still, when he noticed Titus' disapproving glare.
"My mistake," Lysander said, coolly.
Ambrose's lips curled up but only at one side. "Crave, go and claim your dragon."
Lysander's eyes clouded with confusion, but he watched as Bask slunk to Rayn, who held out his wing. Bask climbed onto it, and Rayn lifted him up, before settling him onto his back.
Lysander's mouth opened and closed several times like he was restraining himself from cussing, before he finally gasped, "First, you allow my dragon to escape, and then you give away my second beast to an Immortal…? Now they have the advantage."
"Nay, it must be my mistake because surely a Prince isn't afraid of some healthy competition." Ambrose shoved Lysander towards the remaining dragons.
Lysander squared his shoulders, before prowling to the side of the dragons. His new ride ignored him entirely and didn't lower his wing, but rather let Lysander struggle to pull himself into the saddle.
It looked like our code word Yellow Orchid was already working.
When Lysander fell onto his ass with a startled oomph, I hid my grin in the palm of my hand. It freaked me out that I had the sudden urge to rub his ass better; at least, my dick waved its pleasure at that idea.
When Lysander raised his riding whip, however, Willoughby caught it before it could fall and wrenched it out of his grip. Then he hurled it away into the darkness. Flushing, Lysander looked away.
Willoughby held out his hand, and Lysander grasped it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Willoughby helped him up onto his dragon, before his own dragon fluttered his magic around him to seat him into his saddle.
Magenta glanced at me. "I may be new to this, but aren't we riding?"
Here it comes...
My guts roiled.
It was time.
Inside me, my own eight-legged horse reared up, desperate to run and run and...
But it'd never saved dad or me. Hiding and running as the hunted, prey, or monster meant that you were forever caged.
What if the monster deserved to be seen?
Magenta's ice blue eyes were wide and understanding. I didn't need to hide anything from her.
"If I lose you or Fox…" By the runes, why was I shaking? "…then I'll stop breathing too because you're my life. So, we're going to win this. I'm awesome on land, but what you haven't seen yet, is that I'm even more awesome in the air."
Magenta's grin was like nectar to my Soul. It fed me as much as my pleasure ever had her.
I'd dreamed that I’d have friends who'd accept me. I'd never dreamed that I'd ever be loved by a woman like Magenta.
When Ambrose snatched me by the collar, however, it broke me back into reality. "Are you daft? You know the bastards who are in the audience."
"Care to narrow it down?"
"Titus." He dragged me so close that our noses were touching. "You'd let him see you as a...?"
"Shifter? Hey, I'm not ashamed anymore. I don't care what some stuck-up asshole thinks. If he sticks a cursed collar on me after this and forces Lysander to ride me..." Dick, now wasn't the time to think about Lysander’s strong thighs straddling me... "It'll be worth it."
"If he did that, I'd look after your daft behind." Ambrose stroked the back of my neck, and my eyes widened at the kind gesture. "I wouldn't let anyone ride you without your permission, even if I was punished for it."
He hadn't called me beast, and he'd meant it.
"Thanks, professor."
Ambrose's eyes widened to match my own.
Magenta giggled. "Splendid. Now kiss."
Instantly, Ambrose and I spluttered, reddening. We stumbled back from each other, and Ambrose wrapped his wings around himself.
Suddenly, transforming in front of...everybody...no longer felt like the most humiliating thing that’d happen to me tonight.
Magenta you sly...clever...awesome witch.
I took a deep breath, before glancing at Mist. In warrior red, like my hair, he whinnied his support. Then my magic wound around me. I drew it close, and it was thrilling to allow out what I'd hidden for so long inside.
In a spray of blue glitter that was like a resurrection and a magical orgasm (honestly, if you've never imagined the two, then you've missed out), I transformed into a giant eight-legged horse. The snow caught on my mane and tail, which glimmered like crushed stars. My coat was cinnamon red.