Kingdom of Ash

Those jaws came free of Abraxos’s neck,
and then they were falling, twisting.
Manon had enough sense to grab onto the
saddle, to cling with everything she had as the
wind threatened to tear her from him.
His blood streamed upward as they fell, but
then his wings spread wide, and he was
banking, flapping up. He steadied enough that
Manon swung into the saddle, strapping
herself in as she whirled to see what had
occurred behind her. Who had saved them.
It was not Asterin.
It was not any of the Thirteen.
But Petrah Blueblood.
And behind the Heir to the Blueblood
Witch-Clan, now slamming into Morath’s
aerial legion from where they’d crept onto the
battlefield from high above the clouds, were
the Ironteeth.
Hundreds of them.