Stesha smells as crisp as a winter’s day, richly laced with ash, smoke, sulfur, and the perfume of crocuses blooming in the snow. There are intriguing things in his scent that have me burrowing closer to him. A sense of safety and comfort. The sweetness of recognizing someone who’s just like me. But also an aching, hollow feeling.
I frown. Loneliness? Stesha is lonely?
My arms tighten around his waist. If he’s lonely, I’ll be his friend.
“Zenevieve, let the poor man go,” Father says with a laugh.
Reluctantly, I let go of Stesha. He explains that he has to take Minta back to the nesting caves, and so I say goodbye to the little dragon, and he carries her outside. I run to the window and watch as he strides up the street, the little dragon perched on his shoulder and gazing back at me. I watch them both until they’re out of sight.
I feela new sense of confidence as I walk around the city and the castle. No longer do I have to loiter at the edges of the dragongrounds, feeling timid and awkward. I can step confidently onto them, though I admit that I broke out into a cold sweat the first time, wondering if any dragonriders or dragons were about to challenge me.
But I’m allowed to be here. I’ve been chosen.
Today, I skirt around the flare on my way to the nesting caves, and as soon as I reach them, Minta comes bounding out to me, followed a moment later by her brother, Shar. They both twine around my legs and push their snouts into my palms in greeting. I’m delighted that Minta’s brother is as friendly toward me as she is, and I hope Shar chooses one of my friends to bond with. Onderz and Mirelle are both hoping to be chosen by dragons.
I spend a happy morning playing with the hatchlings, running up and down by the nesting caves while they romp beside me.
The following morning I arrive at the dragongrounds to find Onderz and Mirelle already there, and Onderz is proudly patting a dragon’s flank. When he sees me, he waves me over.
“Zenevieve, I’ve been chosen as well,” he tells me. The dragon is a sleek, dangerous-looking young Alpha with black and white scales.
“I’m so pleased for you! What’s his name?”
“Zeith,” Onderz says proudly. “He’s still growing, but the dragonmaster says that one day he’ll be as big as Nilak. We’re going to take our first flight together this afternoon.”
I feel almost as excited for him as I did the day Minta chose me. A small, pale yellow dragon is peeking out from behind Zeith, and she nuzzles Mirelle’s shoulder.
“Who’s this, Mirelle?” I ask her.
“Oh, um, this is Dianthe,” Mirelle says, turning pink. “She’s Zeith’s mate, or she will be once they’ve both fully matured, but the dragonmaster says they’ve chosen each other already. She’s an Omega.”
Mirelle turns pinker still, and I’m puzzled why she’s embarrassed until I see the shy smile she gives Onderz and the grin he shoots her in return. Something tells me that Onderz and Mirelle are going to be mated one day as well. “Is Dianthe going to be your dragon?”
Mirelle strokes the yellow dragon’s head, and Dianthe closes her eyes in bliss. “I-I think so. Isn’t she pretty?”
“She’s as lovely as a summer’s day. This is so exciting that we’ve been chosen by dragons. Has Zabriel been chosen too?”
“Not yet, but you know who he’s hoping for,” Onderz replies.
We all turn and look toward the center of the flare where the red-eyed Scourge is sitting at Pollex’s right side. The prince who is waiting to be king. I hope Scourge, or another dragon, chooses Zabriel soon so the four of us can all go flying together.
I’m therethe day Minta takes her first flight around the dragongrounds. Now she’s as big as a pony, but long and tapered, and her wingspan is as wide as she is long. After chirruping at me excitedly, she leaps into the air, zooms over my head, and over Tish’s head as well.
“She’ll be as fast as a wyvern when she’s full-grown,” Tish exclaims, speaking of the fast, silvery mounts that the wingrunners ride. “What a beauty she is.”
“Isn’t she?” I gush, following Minta with my eyes. She moves like a fish through water, weaving between the dragons at the edges of the flare.
When she lands in front of me with a graceful flutter to the ground, I wrap my arms around her.
How was it?I ask with my cheek pressed against her neck.
Minta replies by letting me feel the sensation of wind passing over her wings. I close my eyes, and I get lost in it, yearning to feel it for myself.
Soon I’ll be stronger, Minta tells me.
That night, I dream I’m a dragon, and I’m soaring over the clouds, feeling just how Minta felt.
Meanwhile, as Minta grows, Mother encourages me to try other things. I half-heartedly learn to cook, sew, garden, and write in a silly, curly script with ink and quill, but I’m forever abandoning whatever task is before me when I hear a dragon flying overhead. I burn two cakes while staring out the window. Thankfully, the ghastly ruffled dress that Mother bought never makes another appearance.
