Reigh Farrow—third-born prince of Maldobar and accomplished dragonrider—was the most obnoxious, shortsighted, hotheaded idiot I had ever met. I had been forced into proximity—friendship—whatever you wanted to call it—with him for years now. We’d met shortly after I had gotten involved with Thatcher, and the three of us had spent years training and working together at the dragonrider academy. Reigh was a loudmouth. He had an astounding impulse control problem. Every one of his emotions simmered right under the paper-thin surface of his extremely fragile ego. But he was also the most talented
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