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Each time she called a tribe, the room applauded for their own.
“And because of the tribe system and the supremacy of the Society, we are able to help those who need it most with this bridge between the two—the House of Dragons.”
She swept her arm out to gesture to her students. “They are the bridge. They are the future. Let us celebrate them crossing that divide now.”
The applause was deafening. Moran’s call for their support and their nationalism brought the house down.
Kerrigan beamed with the rest of the crowd. Her feelings of unease dissipated as the ceremony officially commenced. This was what she had been raised for. This was the moment she had been waiting for. Today, she would fulfill her duty to the Society. She would be her own Irena Bargain.
Once the applause died down, Moran continued, “We’ll begin with this end.” She pointed to where Darby stood at the other end of the room. They’d been immediately separated and put into lines. “Darby.”
Darby jolted as if she’d just been struck by lightning. Fear blossomed on her face as she took stuttering steps forward to where Moran stood. Kerrigan didn’t know why she looked so afraid. She knew who was going to be claiming her and for what tribe.
“Darby is training to be a healer,” Moran told the crowd. “She’s dutiful, proficient, and kind. She loves etiquette classes and dancing. Who here has chosen Darby?”
Slowly, a figure materialized out of the crowd. Sonali was dressed in the dark blues of Bryonica. Her gown was regal and beyond reproach. She looked like a princess out of legend.
“I have chosen Darby.” She smiled softly and tipped her chin at Darby. “If you will have me?”
“Yes,” Darby squeaked.
A small titter of laughter came from the crowd. Darby gulped and looked even more frightened as Sonali strode up the steps of the stage. She gently withdrew a sapphire ring from her own finger and slid it onto Darby’s. The house ring of Stoirm. Gods.
“Come,” Sonali said gently, and Darby followed her off the stage and into the crowd below.
And so, the ceremony continued. Twenty-three of the House of Dragons’ best. Kerrigan knew every one of the people selected and cheered for them as they were chosen and moved on. Lyam went to Kenris in Zavala in the north. A peach Zavalan cloth square was placed into the pocket of his suit. He looked positively radiant. His eyes darted back to Kerrigan once before continuing through the crowd. Ayesha to Genoa. Hainfroy to Venatrix. Elenee to Concha. And on and on.
Until it reached Hadrian, who had gone positively green in the face.
“Hadrian,” Moran said.
He stepped forward, and Moran spoke all about his intelligence and studiousness. Kerrigan knew that he had been courting Javel with Sayair in the north. They had one of the greatest libraries outside of Draco Mountain. It was Hadrian’s dream to become a scholar.
But when Javel stepped forward… another person stepped forward too.
Fallon of Galanthea.
Kerrigan’s eyes widened in shock. This didn’t happen. The negotiations were usually complete before the ceremony to prevent this. And to have Galanthea, a war tribe, requesting Hadrian. It was unthinkable. What could they even offer?
Of course, Kerrigan knew that Fallon was different. He’d been part of the last dragon tournament, but he hadn’t won. He was attempting to change the make-up of Galanthea. But still… Hadrian?
“I have chosen Hadrian,” Javel said quickly, glaring at Fallon.
“I have also chosen Hadrian,” Fallon added. His voice was smooth and confident. Gone was the terrified boy who had entered the tournament five years earlier.
“This is quite unusual,” Moran said diplomatically. She looked to Hadrian with a raised eyebrow. As if to say, Your choice.
No wonder Hadrian had looked sick. He must have known this was going to happen.
“I…” Hadrian said, looking between the two men who would claim him. “I choose…” He stumbled backward a step and then said everything in a rush, “I choose Fallon.”
Moran laughed softly. “Fallon of Galanthea, step forward, please.”
Fallon put his hand on Javel’s shoulder and nodded at him once. An unspoken truce between them for the slight. Then, he came to stand before Hadrian. They were nearly eye-level. Fallon standing only an inch taller. He retrieved a gold torc from his suit pocket, and with the tenderness of a lover, he wrapped the gold Galanthean collar around Hadrian’s throat. His throat bobbed, and then he followed Fallon offstage.
The next three candidates went without fanfare. And then it was Kerrigan’s turn. She was the last one onstage. Everyone was staring at her messy red hair and slightly scandalous pink dress as she stepped evenly, carefully on her new high heels to Moran.
Even though she and Moran had had their ups and downs throughout the years, she gave her an encouraging smile. Kerrigan nodded at her once and then turned to face the crowd.
