After a rather awkward first hour of flying, Florian had managed to calm down—for the most part. The initial terror of soaring through the sky on a living, fire-breathing beast had worn off. His heart no longer threatened to claw its way out of his throat, and his grip on the saddle had loosened considerably.
It had been two hours now.
And yet, there was still something freaking him out.
One: He had touched Heinz's… third leg.
Two: Heinz was still holding onto him.
Florian had gone through every logical reason why neither of these things should bother him.
First reason—Heinz didn't even seem to care. If anything, the king had just coughed, muttered something about taking things too far, and then moved on. No awkwardness, no anger, no teasing. That should have been a relief.
Second reason—Heinz was only holding onto him to make sure he didn't fall off. That was all. Nothing more.
'So why am I still losing my mind over this?!'
