“Minta! Did you come to wish me a happy birthday? How sweet you are.” Zenevieve sits down on the rug and embraces the little dragon, who chirrups happily in her arms.
I glance at Zenevieve’s mother and notice her frown of disapproval. I have no sympathy for her point of view. A woman isn’t safe just because she’s married. Look at Queen Magritte. Consider whichever poor soul will be mated to Emmeric.
A dark thought flits across my mind. I’ll murder the young prince before I see him mated to Zenevieve.
I can’t help the queen, but I can at least keep Zenevieve safe from her mother’s ambitions and Emmeric’s cruelty. The fastest way to ensure she’s safe is if she has a dragon to protect her. Already, I can picture Zenevieve with silky black hair, dark lashes, and sparkling emerald eyes. She’ll be breathtaking.
I fold my arms and lean against the wall. “Minta’s not just being sweet, Zenevieve. She’s your dragon.”
5
Zenevieve
From my cross-legged place on the floor, the dragonmaster looks as imposing as the highest spire of the castle when I look up at him. “What did you just say, dragonmaster?”
“Did you see how Minta ran straight to you? It’s a sign that she wants to bond with you.”
I look at the hatchling in astonishment. She stares back at me, and then she buffets her snout on the underside of my chin. “You can tell that she wants me to be her rider? Already? How?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “With the two of you, I just can.”
I can feel the weight of her little body through her two taloned forelegs that are pressing against my chest. Sparkling green eyes are gazing into mine. Her scales are so tiny, but they’ll grow bigger as she does.
Minta is my dragon? She’s choosing me?
I picture her as a fully grown dragon with moonlight gleaming on her black scales, and my own hair turned black andrippling in a midnight breeze. Emotion suddenly wells up from my chest into my eyes, and I burst into tears.
“I’m sorry. This probably isn’t how a dragonrider is supposed to behave.” I mop the tears from my face, feeling myself turning red from embarrassment.
Stesha hunkers down before me. He doesn’t smile at me, but his expression is kind. “Lots of dragonriders cry when they realize they’ve been chosen. Dragons are emotional creatures. Do you like her?”
“Like her? Iloveher. How soon can I ride her?”
“It will be a while, so you’ll have to be patient. Minta has a lot of growing to do before her wings can carry her own weight, let alone yours.”
“How long is a while, dragonmaster?”
He considers the dragon. “In a few weeks, she’ll be a young fledgling, and she’ll take her first flight. When she’s an older fledgling she should be big enough to carry you, which will be a few weeks after that. Young dragons grow quickly.”
He grasps her wing, gently spreads it, and points out all the places it will lengthen and strengthen over the coming weeks. Minta sits patiently in my lap the entire time, and she even seems to be listening to the dragonmaster’s explanations.
“Now that you’re a dragonrider, you may go wherever Minta goes,” Stesha tells me. “That includes the dragongrounds and the nesting caves, but remember that there’s order among dragons that Minta is still learning. You both need to stay away from the center of the flare, unless the Alphas are sounding alarm calls.”
“I can actually go onto the dragongrounds? I can visit Minta whenever I like?”
“Of course. No one is allowed to keep you apart.”
I have never heard more beautiful words.
Did you hear that, Minta? We can see each other anytime we want.I speak the words silently in my head, not expecting a reply, but to my surprise, I feel a presence in my head that’s not my own. Minta doesn’t speak, but I feel her happiness.
Stesha gets to his feet, and Minta tumbles from my lap and begins to explore the room.
I’m overcome with so much emotion again that I throw my arms around Stesha’s waist and hold him close. He stiffens, his arms held away from our bodies as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. It’s like no one’s ever hugged him before, but that’s such a silly thought.
“Thank you,” I whisper into his shirt. He’s as warm as a dragon, and very solid.
He squeezes my shoulder. “It’s not me. Minta is the one who chose you.”
