Mother casts me a worried glance. “I didn’t know, dearest. What did he do to frighten you?”
My parents look so concerned that I feel a little braver. “He tried to kiss me, and I didn’t like it.” That sounds pathetic and silly. With more forcefulness, I add, “And he treats his dragon abominably. Nothing could make me want to be his mate.Nothing.”
Father looks angry, but not with me, thankfully.
Mother just looks upset. “I’m so sorry, dearest. If he’s been behaving that way, your feelings are understandable. I won’t mention him to you again, and tell your father if he ever triesto kiss you again. King Aylard won’t allow his son to treat his subjects in such an appalling manner.”
King Aylard seemed like he was going to do the same thing to me, but I keep that to myself. There’s no one who can stop the king from doing whatever he wants. “All right, Mother.”
“What about Prince Zabriel? How do you feel about him?” she asks hopefully.
“I like Zabriel very much, and I think he likes me, too. But only as a friend. All we talk about is dragons.”
Father laughs. “Then he is a very good friend for you indeed.”
“I had hoped that between the two princes, you might find your mate, but it seems as though…” Mother trails off and shakes her head. “Never mind. There is still time for you to find a mate whom you truly care for.”
As she hugs me, I breathe a sigh of relief. In a few years, I’ll be eighteen, and maybe by then someone will have caught my eye. I try to imagine the kind of man I’d truly care for, as Mother put it. He would have to love dragons, and even better, be a dragonrider himself. Someone who is both clever and brave. Someone who makes me feel safe. Someone who makes me desperate to run into his arms for a kiss.
A memory of the dragonmaster crosses my mind, holding out his hand to me the day of my first riding lesson. Waiting for my permission to pull me into his arms and carry me up onto his dragon. My heart beats faster. Stesha behaves so differently to the cruel way Prince Emmeric and King Aylard cornered and pawed at me. There’s no one braver, stronger, and cleverer than Stesha. He’s everything a man and an Alpha should be. If I have to be mated, then I hope he will be a man who is just like the dragonmaster.
“Sometimes I wishI could stay in the Flame Temple forever and just play with the baby dragons.” Mirelle sighs happily as she tickles the belly of a blue hatchling.
We’re sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Flame Temple, the massive, cavernous temple carved from glossy black volcanic rock. Around us, people are praying, burning knot grass in memory of loved ones, or enjoying the peace. Temple Maidens and Mothers dressed in bright red robes walk here and there. We’re bathed in the dancing light and warmth from the Font of First Flames.
“They are sweet,” I say, smiling as two silvery dragons, barely longer than my forearm, romp around in my lap. “But you’d miss Dianthe if you stayed here always. You’d miss Onderz too, wouldn’t you?”
Mirelle turns pink and nods shyly, not meeting my eyes. “I would.”
She’s so different from her brothers, so timid and always jumping at shadows. I’ve heard that Dianthe is an Omega dragon, and I wonder if that means Mirelle is an Omega as well. Dragons often choose riders of the same designation.
I watch Mirelle surreptitiously through my lashes. There are certainly many things about her that fit with what I’ve heard about Omegas. Small, pretty, easily frightened, withdrawn. Occasionally she possesses an intensely sweet scent, which I think is supposed to grow stronger as she gets older. Alphas apparently lose their heads around Omegas, desiring them, needing to protect them, but none more than the Alpha who will be her mate. There are other, more personal things about Alphas and Omegas that I’m dying to ask about, but Mirelle mightcombust with embarrassment if I ask her about slicks and knots, and it could be she’s just as clueless as I am.
Mirelle glances up at the high ceiling of the Flame Temple where it’s open to the sky. Every week, Pollex replenishes the font by breathing dragonfire into the temple.
“It’s getting late. Should we go? We shouldn’t be here when the dragonmaster comes to collect the hatchlings.”
That’s one of the reasons why I like to be here in the evenings. When their mothers go out on missions with their riders, the hatchlings are sometimes dropped into the temple to sleep in front of the font. Stesha comes by to collect the smallest ones who would have trouble making it back to the dragongrounds by themselves. It makes a warm, melty feeling spread through my belly to see him striding through the temple with baby dragons perched on his shoulders and more asleep in his arms. I’ve helped him collect the hatchlings before, and once he even asked me to carry some back to the nesting caves with him because there were so many.
“Why shouldn’t we be here?”
Mirelle gives a little shudder. “Because he’s so fierce. Doesn’t he frighten you?”
I laugh. “Of course not.”
“He scares me. The only Alpha who doesn’t terrify me is Onderz.”
“Let’s stay and wait for him. I promise that Stesha doesn’t look so fierce with a hatchling chewing on his hair. Don’t you think it’s admirable the way he treats you like any other dragonrider? Just as capable. Just as worthy of the title.”
“I’m not sure,” Mirelle says. “I love Dianthe, but it’s probably a waste of time that I’m learning to fly. I’m too stupid and scared to be useful.”
“Who told you that?” I ask indignantly.
“Everyone says that about Omegas.”
“Do they, or is it just your father and your horrible brother?”
Mirelle stares at me wide-eyed with shock. She leans closer and hisses, “Zenevieve, be careful. It’s better not to speak about my family than say something that might be treasonous.”
