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On the other side of the field, Scourge begins battling with one of the other male Alphas. It’s not a true fight, and they’re not trying to shred scales and flesh from the other, but Scourge deals a blow to the underside of the other dragon’s jaw with the bony top of his head, and his sparring mate pulls back, lowering his crest and conceding the fight.
I feel a spurt of pride.
Nilak turns her regal head away and closes her eyes.
I turn my attention back to Stesha. I will have an explanation from him. “Lady Isavelle is adjusting and learning, and I’d appreciate it if you kept your criticisms of her to yourself. She’s emerging with no knowledge of what she is and no other Omegas to give her any support.”
“She’s the king’s Omega. She’ll be fine,” he says dismissively.
“Of course she will, but in the meantime, I expect you to be as courteous to my mate as you were to my mother.”
Stesha lowers his grooming cloth and studies it in his hands. “I miss the last queen.”
So that’s it. He’s not ready for a new one. I swallow hard, because I miss the last queen as well.
Stesha turns toward me, and there’s true feeling in his voice when he says, “Your mother was a natural queen. I’m sorry that we lost her so soon.”
I glance around the dragongrounds. “So am I.”
What Isavelle could use right now is a friend. A young woman who she can spend time with. Someone like Stesha’s ward. Zenevieve is a beautifully mannered Beta whom Stesha adores, so hopefully he won’t object if my “bratty” mate befriends her.
“I know she’s a Beta rather than an Omega, but Zenevieve would make an excellent friend for Isavelle. Where is Zenevieve, anyway? I haven’t seen…”
The expression on Stesha’s face becomes stricken before I even finish what I’m saying.
Zenevieve is dead? She wasn’t among us beneath the mountain? No one told me.
“Fuck. Stesha. I’m so sorry.”
He grips the polishing cloth in his fist and stares at the ground. His voice is forced and unemotional as he says, “It happened a long time ago.”
For her, maybe. For him and me, the grief of our losses is still fresh. Zenevieve is—was—everything to him, his only family after he lost his. Zenevieve’s parents died when she was sixteen and Stesha took care of his best friend’s daughter until she came of age a few years ago. A few hundred years ago. Stesha never had much time for other people, but he doted on the pretty, raven-haired, green-eyed young Beta.
“There’s no sign of Minta, either?” Minta is Zenevieve’s beautiful dark green and black dragon, a Beta like her rider and one of the sweetest in the flare. She has excellent speed and agility for a dragon, and she could give the wingrunners an aeronautical challenge.
Stesha shakes his head. “Nilak didn’t sense her under the mountain, and she hasn’t scented her either. They’re both just…gone.”
“Do you think—”
“That’s enough, Zabriel,” Stesha snaps.
I close my mouth. I guess we’re not talking about it. For a few minutes, there’s silence while I try to think of a way to draw the conversation back to Isavelle.
“Do you think Isavelle will bond with a dragon? I want my Omega to become a dragonrider more than anything so I can share the skies with her.” With her aversion to flight and the sickness it causes her sometimes, I worry she’ll be dragonless.
“Why, were you hoping to give Minta to your mate?”
“For fuck’s sake, Stesha. Of course not.”
But Stesha’s grief has tipped over into fury, and he unleashes a short, sharp tirade. “Your Omega is a brat, and so is her dragon. Good luck to you and Scourge. You’re both going to need it.”
My folded arms loosen in shock. Her dragon? Isavelle has a dragon? “Wait, what?”
The dragonmaster turns back to Nilak and sweeps the cloth down her flank.
“Stesha—” But I’m distracted by a tugging at my hip. I look around and see that a turquoise and gold dragon has clamped her teeth around the pouch of chicken necks and is trying to yank it from my belt. She’s small, her haunches are the same height as my head, but she’s strong. As she tugs, I’m jerked toward her, and she begins to snarl as she doesn’t get what she wants.
“Hey! Stop that. Those aren’t for you.” I grasp hold of the pouch and pull back. The dragon’s back legs slip and slide as they try to gain traction. A moment later, the ties snap, and the dragon straightens up, her prize held proudly in her teeth. Her eyes blaze with triumph and her wings unfurl.
