Lette momentarily broke from Will’s lips when she felt a lurch in her stomach. Was it, she wondered, her conscience finally kicking in? Her rational mind? She stared around, but of course saw nothing but blackness.
Will snaked his hand back behind her head, his fingers tangling with her hair. “Come back,” he said.
“I’m fairly sure we’re plummeting toward the ground,” she said. She thought she should probably be panicking.
“A dragon’s holding us,” Will pointed out. “He’s not going to crash. He’ll just pull up.” He attempted to distract her by sliding his hands down onto her arse. To be fair, it was rather distracting.
It was at that moment that the chest crashed down into the Athril’s Lake garrison. Will and Lette survived thanks to the thick cloth padding that Will had painstakingly stitched to the inside of the chest. Quirk’s vials of Snag Weed potion, however, did not.
Almost instantly, the chest was filled with glass, fluid, and fumes. Lette had only the opportunity to say, “Oh shit,” before the fog filled her lungs, and she knew no more.