The Queen of Aevamorra Vyracarum didn't hesitate. "Consider it done, Keeper. Our dragon teams always include at least one Fae or mage. You will draw from their magic if needed. They will flank you at all times."
Serena's eyebrows lifted by a fraction. Then she smiled, genuine, warm, the brief flash that crossed her face when her brain encountered something it admired.
"Our mages don't ride. Just the wolves," she admitted. "That is brilliant that yours do."
Serena meant it. It wasn't flattery. She didn't do flattery. It was professional admiration from a woman who had spent months watching Drakenfell's mage librarians refuse to get on dragons and had privately thought, more than once, that putting a mage on a dragon was so logically obvious that the resistance to it bordered on insanity. A good mage could fabricate during an emergency, not to mention heal dragons and riders. Even one in a team of six dragons would make a difference.
