Emmeric doesn’t dare shove Shar while Stesha is watching him, but he glares at the dragon with his lips pressed tightly together. Shar has never experienced coldness before, and he doesn’t understand what’s happening. It hurts my heart to see him trying to win Emmeric over but getting rejected. Finally, I can’t bear it any longer, and I run over to comfort Shar.
Emmeric steps in front of me. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Shar is upset. Look how his head is bowed.”
“You do not have permission to touch my dragon. You’ve been spoiling him so much it’s making him pathetic. I’ll have to toughen him up if he’s going to be worth anything.”
From that day forward, Shar’s friendliness diminishes, first with the other riders, then with me, and even with his own sister. Shar follows Emmeric around only to be ignored, but Emmeric shouts at him if he strays. My throat burns with tears to see how unhappy the once joyful dragon has become.
I have disliked Emmeric for the cruel things he’s said and done to me, but now I begin to hate him.
Zabriel and Onderz have already started flying lessons on their nearly full-grown dragons, and it’s just a few weeks until Emmeric, Mirelle, and I are able to join them. On Nilak or Damla, flying is delightful, but my first flight on Minta feels like a dream. I’m not sitting on her; every part of my body is connected with every part of hers through our minds. There’s such a joyful, open connection between the two of us, and our thoughts flow back and forth like water. I’ve never known such happiness, nor such freedom. The euphoria goes straight to our heads, and we go a little mad from it.
Once we’re over the castle, Minta flies in a tight circle around the tallest turret of the castle, spiraling up and up. My eyes find the next turret, and I feel her delight as she accepts my idea and spirals down that one. We dart around the skies as if we’re made from lightning, until I hear Nilak give an indignant shriek, calling us back.
When we land, I’m out of breath, and my hair is in a riot. I dismount in front of the others.
Stesha has his arms folded and wears an expression of disapproval on his face. “Too chaotic, Zenevieve. Fly with more intention next time.”
I’m grinning as I reply, “Yes, dragonmaster.”
The corner of his mouth quirks for a fraction of a second before he turns away. “Onderz, your turn.”
After the lesson, I feel so wonderful that I decide to go give thanks at the Flame Temple, in gratitude to the gods who have given me such a wonderful dragon. There are dozens of ways to reach the temple through the castle grounds, and I try and go a different way each time so that I can admire the many gardens and courtyards.
I round a corner and see a figure walking toward me, and my heart lodges in my throat when I realize it’s King Aylard. I’ve only ever seen him from afar and surrounded by a great many people, but now, we’re completely alone in a small walled garden.
“You are Zenevieve of Vierforn, aren’t you? My son has mentioned you.” The king has a dark beard, wears many gold rings, and his clothes are richly embroidered with gold thread.
I don’t know what to say, but I feel like I must say something. “Which son,Ma’len?”
King Aylard gives me a crafty smile. “Why, do you prefer one of my sons over the other? Perhaps you are hoping to be queen one day.”
I would much rather it was Zabriel who’s been talking about me, not because I want to mate him, but because all the crown prince talks about is dragons and probably has kind things to say about me and Minta. I’m sure there’s a clever, courtly reply I can give the king, but I don’t know what it is. Mother tried to coach me on how to be polite but evasive among the nobles, but I wasn’t listening.
I turn red, and stammer, “I-I don’t hope for anything,Ma’len.”
King Aylard steps toward me. I keep my eyes fixed firmly on the ground and the gold-threaded slippers the king is wearing. He pushes his hand into my hair and threads his fingers through it, and the strands tug painfully on my scalp. I want to tell him to stop, but fear and confusion seal my lips.
“You haven’t fully bonded with your dragon,” King Aylard says, twisting my hair this way and that. “Your hair is the same color as it was when you arrived.”
He can tell that without touching me. Why is he touching me?
“No,Ma’len,” I whisper, my skin crawling. I feel like I’m being assessed like livestock on market day.
His nails scrape against the nape of my neck, which grates on every nerve in my body and makes me break out in a cold sweat. I feel as panicked as I did when Emmeric cornered me, but I have just enough presence of mind not to shout at the King of Maledin and shove him away from me.
Instead, I duck out from under his arm and run, and I don’t look back.
For days, I anticipate the stomping of soldiers’ feet as they come to arrest me for being so rude. I don’t dare say a word about it to Mother and Father for fear that they’ll punish me or be disappointed in me. I know I was wrong to run from KingAylard, but he frightened me. I can still hear his heavy breathing in my ear.
Everywhere I go, I notice that men stare at me. Merchants in the streets. Drinkers leaving taverns. Soldiers in the City Guard. It’s as though the king and the prince have left dirty handprints all over my body, and everyone enjoys staring at them. The only time I feel any relief is when I’m flying with Minta.
After a sword fighting lesson one afternoon, three of the recruits from the City Guard corner me and pen me in with their bodies. I don’t think they mean to make me feel like I’m trapped, and all they do is talk to me, but their deep voices and the hungry energy they’re giving off make me afraid they’re about to start pawing at me.
A harsh voice cuts across their chatter. Stesha stands head and shoulders above the young men, looking like he wants to grab them and throw them aside. “Do you have duties to attend to, soldiers? They always need extra hands at the eyrie to shovel wyvern shit.”
The recruits slink away under the weight of Stesha’s glare, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you, dragonmaster.”
