Minta and Shar are often together and love to approach the other dragonriders. They’re curious about everyone and seem to adore having their scales stroked. I feel proud every time someone gasps in delight over how stunning the siblings are, or someone exclaims over how swiftly and elegantly they fly.
Now that I’m officially a dragonrider, I’m also a trainee in the dragon army, which means I have to learn battle arts. Sword fighting lessons at the castle barracks are a great deal more fun than needlepoint and calligraphy. My arms and legs feel like jelly after every lesson, and my knuckles and shins are covered in bruises. We train with the City Guard recruits, and while manyof the boys and girls are only fifteen like me, a lot of them have been working in the fields or with stock animals, so they’re already strong. I have to train hard to catch up. Our trainer says that at least I’m quick on my feet and “not too stupid,” which I suppose is almost a compliment.
The princes haven’t yet been chosen by dragons, but they have to take sword fighting lessons because of their rank. I enjoy practicing with Zabriel, but I loathe when I’m pitted against Emmeric. Either he knocks me down when I’m not looking, complains that his practice sword is the wrong weight, or that the sun is in his eyes.
Stesha is often training with the other Alphas, and when he and another man or woman spar, their blades ring together furiously. Every few days, Zabriel asks to fight him, and we all gather around to watch. The dragonmaster always disarms him and knocks him into the dust. Sometimes Stesha does it quickly, with the impatience of a man who’s got better things to do than play fight with a boy. Other days, he draws things out for the onlookers, making Zabriel exhaust himself swinging his sword, running, and dodging, while Stesha barely breaks a sweat. Sometimes they’ll be at it for nearly an hour, but Zabriel always ends up on his ass.
After one of these matches, I come upon Zabriel bathing a painful-looking bruise on his shoulder, and I ask him, “Why do you keep fighting Stesha when you always lose?”
“Because Stesha is the best. One day I’ll beat him, and I’ll know I’m a real soldier. And the look on his face will be priceless.”
Stesha being the best sword fighter is news to me. I’m delighted to hear it, because apart from my family, he’s my favorite person in Lenhale. There’s a little bounce in my step the rest of the day. Stesha is the best. I’m proud of him.
Soon Zabriel has other things to think about than challenging the dragonmaster.
It happens dramatically one afternoon. Scourge roars loud enough to rattle every eardrum in the city, spreads his mighty wings, and slams two taloned forelegs into the ground right in front of Zabriel. Everyone nearby flees. Everyone except for Zabriel, who is fearlessly standing beneath the ferocious black dragon.
There’s a moment of strained silence as every dragonrider around holds their breath. Zabriel climbs up Scourge’s flank and onto his back, and the dragon snorts at the unfamiliar feeling and paces a few steps. I hope I’m not about to see the crown prince thrown to the ground and stomped into a sticky paste.
Scourge spreads his wings and launches into the sky.
A cheer goes up from the dragonriders as we watch the enormous black dragon and the crown prince take their first flight together. There’s so much happiness in my heart, knowing that the dragon that Zabriel has longed for has finally chosen him.
Now there’s only one member of my flying cohort who’s still dragonless. Emmeric. It isn’t long before I notice that a dragon I care for very much is paying attention to him. There’s a snarl of anxiety in my belly as I watch Shar, who now stands as high as a horse but is so gentle and unthreatening, nosing hopefully at Emmeric’s chest. It’s the body language of a dragon who wants to initiate physical contact, and no dragonrider I’ve ever seen is able to resist caressing a dragon’s snout when approached in such a way.
Surely Emmeric’s heart will finally be touched? This will be a turning point for the bad-tempered prince.
Emmeric scowls at Shar and shoves him away.
I open my mouth to cry out, but Stesha is already striding forward. “Emmeric. What the hell are you doing?”
The prince shoots him a petulant look. “What does it look like I’m doing, you stupid oaf? Why does this dragon keepbotheringme?”
Outrage and anger fill me from head to toe. To be chosen by any dragon, let alone Shar, is a privilege.
Stesha’s eyes narrow. “If you have a question for me, you say,Excuse me, dragonmaster. Fifty push-ups. Now.”
“Like hell I’m doing push-ups.”
“These are my dragongrounds, and you are a trainee rider. Fifty push-ups, or your insubordination will be written up, and you’ll be disciplined.”
I suppose he means that King Aylard will be informed, and apparently that’s something Emmeric would like to avoid because he gets down on the ground, grumbling the whole way.
Stesha stands over the prince with his arms folded, counting the number of push-ups to make sure Emmeric does them all.
When the prince is finished and gets to his feet, red-faced and angry, Stesha says, “I’ll ask you again. What were you doing to that dragon?”
“He won’t stop following me. I’m not bonding with a weak little Beta dragon. I’m waiting for my real dragon. An Alpha.”
Zabriel has been following the scene, and he approaches his brother. “I would be honored if Shar chose me. Anyone can see he’s going to be one of the swiftest and smartest dragons in the flare. Going into battle on Shar would mean victory is practically certain.”
“He’s tiny. He’s an idiotic puppy,” Emmeric snarls.
“Shar is still growing,” Zabriel protests. “He will be a fearsome battle dragon once he’s reached his full size, and he will be swifter than all the Alphas.”
“Who cares about being fast when you can be strong? If you get to ride Scourge, I should have a dragon who’s just as big and fierce. I’m a prince as well.”
“You know that’s not how it works, idiot,” Onderz calls out. “Shar’s chosen you, so shut up and be happy about it. You’re lucky any dragon wants to put up with you.”
