PART I
Old Maledin
1
Zenevieve
“Zenevieve, don’t you wish to see our new home?” Father calls after me.
I skip sideways as I wave goodbye to my parents. “No, I want to see the dragons!”
Maledin’s dragons. They’re all I’ve been able to think about ever since Father and Mother told me we were moving to the capital from our home in the south.
Mother cups her hand around her mouth and points toward the north. “Don’t be too long, and don’t cause a nuisance. The dragongrounds are over by…”
I turn and run down the cobblestone streets with breathless excitement, and Mother’s words are swallowed up by the wind. She doesn’t need to tell me where I can find the dragons. We lived in Lenhale until I was four years old, and though I barely remember the city of Lenhale, I could reach the dragongrounds with my eyes closed. Before he passed away, I listened to all of Grandfather’s stories about life in the capital with rapt attention,and I pored over maps of the area with him. He was the former dragonmaster, and everyone always said that means I have dragons in my blood. One day I’ll be a rider. Father tells me I must wait to see if I’m chosen by a dragon, because it’s the dragon who chooses their rider, but I feel in my heart that my destiny has already been decided. Maledinni are guided by fate, and I’m sure the gods must have a wonderful plan for me. Otherwise, why would my parents have brought me back to the city when they much prefer the countryside?
As I race through the alleys and squares, people swerve out of my way with shouts of irritation and alarm.
“I’m sorry!” I call over my shoulder to a man just managing to keep a tray of bread balanced on his shoulder.
“Would it hurt you to slow down, girl?” he shouts after me.
It would. I think it really would. After being locked away in the deepest, darkest part of rural Maledin for the last ten years without a dragon in sight, I’m impatient for my life to begin.
I sprint through the castle gates and around to the left, where a path leads through courtyards and over battlements to the northern side. Some of the sights look familiar. This cherry growing in a walled garden. That view from the battlements. I must have come this way with Grandfather many times, holding tight to his hand or being carried in his arms.
I reach a bridge spanning a chasm, and finally the dragons come into view. Not a handful of dragons; there are dozens of them, in so many different sizes and colors. Massive Alpha dragons sit regally at the center of the flare, surrounded by Betas. A few dragons that look like they could be smaller Omegas lounge around the outskirts, and skinny, leggy fledglings scamper in the dust.
I still remember what Grandfather said to me the first time he showed me the dragons.Here’s the rest of your family, Zenevieve.
I walk slowly across the bridge, knowing I mustn’t run headlong into the flare, but I’m aching to do just that. Here and there, dragonriders are walking among the dragons. How I wish I could be one of them.
I’m so focused on committing to memory each and every dragon that I don’t notice that one of them has broken away from the flare and is approaching me. Suddenly, a gleaming, ice-white dragon is looming over me. She’s one of the biggest of the flare, and her pale, jewel-like eyes are fixed on me. She’s so massive that she blocks out not only every sight but every sound as well. My world falls silent. Her razor-sharp talons dig into the dust as she lowers her head to inspect me. Muscles ripple beneath her pristine white scales. Her hot breath fans my face, and I feel the hot glow of her soul core deep within her chest. There’s no mistaking who this dragon is.
“Nilak,” I breathe.
Grandfather’s pride and joy. For him, she embodied everything that a dragon should be. Proud, fierce, and brave. Always putting the flare first and protecting them above all else. And she’s beautiful. I first saw her when she was a younger dragon, but now she’s fully mature and absolutely breathtaking.
Nilak lowers her head and delicately—for a dragon of her size—sniffs the air around me. Then she fixes me with her jewel-like blue gaze and doesn’t move. She’s so close I could reach out and touch her, and I realize that’s what she’s inviting me to do.
Slowly, I extend my hand. Grandfather taught me that I have nothing to fear from his flare if I treat the dragons with respect. Nilak gives a soft rumble and nudges my palm with the side of her snout. I feel a smile break over my face, and I wonder if she remembers me.
While I’m focused on Nilak, a man strides out from among the dragons, tall and striking with long white hair tied at thenape of his neck. I see him out of the corner of my eye, but I’m too focused on Nilak to care about him.
Until he’s moving toward me with long, purposeful strides.
I spare him a glance, and he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. His face looks as though it was carved from a glacier, and he’s so tall, nearly twice my height. He wears pale dragonriding clothes on his robust frame, and his white hair is like silk, with several locks falling into his icy blue eyes. I suppose he must be somewhere in his mid-twenties, and one of the king’s Alpha dragonriders. I’m wary of Alphas. They’re not known for their friendliness. Most Maledinni are Betas, like my parents, and are unremarkable in size and stature. Alphas are very large physically, and they’re often soldiers and dragonriders because they love to fight. They have hot tempers and intense personalities. Betas are the most populous, and they get all the hard work and thinking done, or so they like to claim. Omegas are rare, and they’re small and very cute, and apparently a bit useless. Queen Magritte is an Omega, but I never hear much about her.
My heart pounds in my throat as this Alpha glares at me, looking at my hand on Nilak’s snout, and I wonder if I’m about to get in trouble for touching his dragon. Because Nilak is his dragon, there’s no doubt about that. Grandfather once pointed out all the signs that a rider and a dragon were bonded. A rider’s looks change to match the coloring of their dragon’s scales and eyes. Their attitudes and personality are often similar, and so is the way they move and think. A dragon and rider sometimes seem as though they’re looking at you through the same pair of eyes, which can be unnerving.
This Alpha’s expression is so severe as he glares down at me that I’m tempted to turn on my heel and run before he can shout at me, but thanks to Grandfather, I know I’m not doing anything wrong. Anyone may come and stand at the edgeof the dragongrounds and be greeted by a dragon. Besides, a dragonrider isn’t a coward, and I mean to be a dragonrider, so I take a deep breath, and say, “Your dragon is beautiful.”
He puts his hand on Nilak, caressing her with his thumb. A proud, possessive touch. “Nilak says she knows you. How?” His deep voice is sharp and unfriendly and nips me like teeth.
“Nilak and I met a long time ago. My grandfather raised her, and he was proudest of her in all the flare.”
The man studies me closely, his fingertips trailing over Nilak’s white scales. “Then you are Zenevieve of Vierforn.” Still he doesn’t smile at me, but at least he doesn’t frown quite so hard.
