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Summary
Iron Flame from the fliers' POV:
Must be fucking nice. To hide behind wards, protected by the continent's dragons, for over six hundred years. All while we're left to fend off the horrors that Navarre is too weak, too cowardly to face.
Elyra Soryn has lost faith in the system—no that's not right, because she never had any faith in it to begin with. No, she's never had faith in the system that let her family burn, that lets orphans go hungry in the streets, that stands by and watches the world crumble from ivory towers.
So when she's planted in Aretia after the fall of Zolya, she has no qualms about doing exactly what she needs to do to make sure the people she cares about make it out alive.
But Bodhi Durran is watching her. Tracking her every move like the insufferable nuisance that he is. And she knows what he’s doing, the way he tries to slip past her armor with easy smiles and the kind of nonchalance that only noble blood can buy.
Let him try.
Because she’s done being a pawn in anyone’s game. And if Durran thinks he can outmaneuver her?
Well, he’ll just have to learn the hard way, won't he?