“Dragonmaster Destrin’s granddaughter should learn to ride.” It’s the least I can do for the man who took me in and gave me my life’s purpose.
Alin laughs. “I’ll let her know she’s to join you. A flare of feral dragons couldn’t keep my daughter from your lessons.”
“Then tell her to report to the dragongrounds tomorrow at dawn.”
“Dowe really have to start this early, dragonmaster?” Prince Zabriel yawns noisily. His hair is mussed and tangled from sleep and is sticking up in the dawn light. Next to him is Onderz, the son of one of the lords at court and Zabriel’s closest friend. He looks similarly tired and dopey. By his side is a pale and annoyed Prince Emmeric, then tiny Mirelle rubbing her eyes like a child, and finally, Alin’s daughter.
Yes, we have to start this early. I have things to do today. I wake before dawn and so do many of the dragonriders, wingrunners, and soldiers in the city. Besides, training at dawn is a useful way to weed out those who truly wish to be dragonriders from those who prefer snoring their lazy heads off in bed.
“Every dragonrider is a member of the king’s dragon army. If a dragon chooses you, that dragon is a battle dragon. You are now all trainee soldiers, whether you are chosen or not. Getting up at dawn to ride a dragon is a privilege.”
My eyes run along the row of yawning, grumpy, rumpled teenagers to the caramel-haired girl at the end, who’s alert and beaming at me. Someone’s perky in the morning.
“But, dragonmaster, Father says we’re at peace,” Princess Mirelle says tentatively. She’s the youngest of the king’s children, and he didn’t want her to learn to ride.
“And?” I ask, turning to her.
The princess turns red. “And…and so maybe we don’t need to, um…” She trails off and stares at the ground.
It’s irritating hearing excuses and whining from dragonriders. From the ruler’s children, it’s exasperating. King Aylard didn’t want his daughter on a dragon. Queen Magritte specifically asked me to teach her daughter, who is showing signs of becoming an Omega, because she herself was never given that chance. There’s no reason Mirelle can’t ride if she wants to. Hundreds of years ago, there was a famous Omega dragonrider who flew into battle and helped win a decisive victory for Maledin. The king and I don’t agree on this, but I believe it’s every rider’s duty to protect the country we call home, no matter their designation.
Because peace in Maledin doesn’t happen by accident.
A pale violet dragon called Jocata is sunning herself not far away. There are long, silvery scars on her side. “What’s marking Jocata’s flank, Mirelle?”
Mirelle turns a deeper shade of crimson. “Scratches, dragonmaster.”
“How did she get them?”
“From a wild dragon, dragonmaster.”
Not just any wild dragon. Jocata was flying with seven other dragons in central Maledin when Golden Terror attacked out of nowhere. Two dragons and their riders were killed. Jocata lived, but her injuries were so extensive that she can no longer have hatchlings. central Maledin was once thought safe from wild dragons, which mostly reside in the east, but with the massive, vicious Golden Terror in the skies, nowhere is safe.
“Are there any more stupid questions?” I ask.
Mirelle looks like she’s about to cry. Onderz is glaring daggers at me, and I glare right back.
“Then let’s get on with this. I have other things to do today.” I pace up and down in front of them and remind them of the most important rule of dragonriding. “There’s one thing you must understand before you even think about riding a dragon.Dragons never make mistakes. Riders do. It’s your job to ensure your dragon trusts and respects you. If not, who will suffer the consequences?” I cast my gaze along the row of assembled teenagers. “Zabriel.”
Zabriel has his head close to Onderz and is whispering and laughing about something. Hearing his name, he straightens up. “What? Oh. Um, me?”
“If only that were true,” I say coldly. “It’s your dragon who will suffer if he or she doesn’t respect you. The people of Maledin will suffer. Your fellow soldiers. The city dwellers. The villagers. Their livestock and farms. If your dragon lashes out because it’s frightened or angry, it’s your fault. If your dragon attacks you, then you are too stupid or weak to be a rider.”
It’s unlikely a dragon from the king’s flare will kill a rider, but it’s not impossible. As I’m speaking, I feel Nilak pace toward me from across the dragongrounds. The row of teenagers stare with wide eyes and parted lips as she looms over them. I can see Nilak over my head and hear her deep breaths. Nilak is the biggest female in the flare, and she’s also one of the most ferocious. Finally, the youths are all awake and paying attention.
“There are no second chances with dragons.”
A gray and violet Beta dragon called Damla is waiting patiently not far away, and I stride over to her and give her flank a firm pat. “Dragonrider Tish has been kind enough to offer her very patient dragon Damla for the trainees to practice on. Treat the Alpha’s mate with respect, or you’ll be answering to Pollex.”
From the center of the flare, mountainlike Pollex is as still as stone in the morning light, eyes fixed on the trainees with smoke wisping from his nostrils.
Emmeric is frowning up at Damla. “I have a question. How do you make them do what you want?”
“I have a question, what?”
Emmeric rolls his eyes and mutters, “I have a question,dragonmaster.”
“You don’tmakea dragon do anything. You can try, but you won’t get very far. A dragon isn’t a pet or a servant. You don’t order them around. You ask. Outside the flare, a dragon is vulnerable, and they rely on us to keep them safe. A dragon doesn’t know or care about politics or borders. A dragon isn’t aware when one of our neighbors is challenging us and deploys mages who can maim and kill dragons. It’s your job to know that and keep them safe.”
