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“I will return to the dragongrounds when Esmeral does.”
I use my forearm to brush hair out of my eyes and glance up at him. “Why? Isn’t she allowed to leave the flare alone?”
Stesha is watching the small dragon with a line between his brows. “She hasn’t got a rider or a mate to watch over her, and I think she’ll go into heat soon. I don’t know how many wild dragons there are in Maledin anymore, but I don’t want the newest Omega in the flare to be torn to pieces when she starts to perfume.”
Attacked? Poor Esmeral. She’s only small and looks entirely defenseless. “That’s thoughtful of you.”
“It’s not thoughtful. It’s my duty. I’m the dragonmaster, and Esmeral is in my flare. I don’t need to be told I’m doing a good job by a clueless Omega.”
I grip the trowel tighter, wishing I could shove it up Stesha’s ass. Every time I try to hold out an olive branch to this man, he beats me over the head with it.
Esmeral has wandered over to Nilak and is nosing in the dirt around where the white dragon is digging. Nilak seems to resent the smaller dragon’s presence, and she lashes out with a snarl. Esmeral cringes away from her.
Poor little Esmeral. I feel so sorry for her that I can’t stop myself from saying, “Nilak, she’s only small. Leave her alone.”
“Nilak is teaching a lower-ranked dragon her place,” Stesha tells me. “Why do you care if Esmeral is being corrected by a bigger and older dragon?”
“I don’t.” But I do think Nilak is being a bitch and Esmeral can’t help being curious.
“I don’tdragonmaster,” Stesha prompts, but I ignore him. He’s not my dragonmaster. He’s a pompous jerk.
When I don’t respond, he says, “It’s only natural that you care. Haven’t you figured it out yet?”
“Figured what out?”
“Figured what outdragonmaster,” he growls. “Esmeral is trying to bond with you. She wants you to be her rider, and if you would do your duty, it would make my life easier. Her rider is meant to be the one to take care of her at times like this.”
Esmeral perks up at the wordrider. Excitedly, she comes around behind me and rests her snout on my shoulder. It’s something I’ve seen some of the other dragons doing with their riders. It seems like a sign of affection or comradeship. Me, be her rider? Something else to tie me to this place when all I want to do is find my family and go home?
I duck out from under Esmeral and back away, shaking my head. “Oh, no. No, no, no. No, thank you. I don’t want a dragon.”
“But you’re Maledinni,” Stesha points out, advancing on me. “Riding dragons is your birthright, and it’s an honor to be chosen by a dragon. Why would you refuse?”
I don’t feel Maledinni, and I definitely don’t feel like a dragonrider. I’m nothing like Zabriel and Stesha with their flashing eyes, proud features, and boundless confidence. I feel much more at home among the palace servants or the refugees. I feel sick when I ride a dragon, and besides, they’re terrifying. Even if I wanted to become a dragonrider, it would mean spending days on end with Stesha, who clearly hates me, while he berates me over what a terrible rider I am. I can’t think of anything worse.
“There’s no point in me learning how to ride a dragon because I’m not staying in the capital. I’m waiting to find out where my family is and then I’m going home.”
Stesha’s eyes widen in astonishment and then narrow with outrage. Over his shoulder, Nilak is giving me the same ferocious glare. “You are unbelievable, child. The King of Maledin has declared you’re his mate, and he’s working night and day to keep you safe. Now a dragon of the king’s flare wants to bond with you, giving you the chance to repay his hard work by becoming a dragonrider who can defend her country, and you refuse?”
Stesha could just accept my refusal, but he can’t, can he? He’s an Alpha, and Alphas are always right. “ZabrieldemandedI be his mate. I don’t want to bond with a dragon or ride into battle—and don’t call me child.”
Stesha doesn’t move, but Nilak draws her snout back from her teeth and snarls at me.
She can snarl all she likes. I don’t care what the dragonmaster and his haughty dragon expect of me. I decide what happens in my life, not them.
Without saying goodbye, I pick up my basket and head for the castle with Fiala and Dusan following behind me. Esmeral utters a soft, sad trill as she watches me go, which sends a pang through my heart.
She’s lonely.
I don’t know how I know that, but I do. She’s small, strong-willed, and picked on. She doesn’t feel she belongs here, or anywhere for that matter, and the future is a frightening and uncertain place. I nearly run back to her and wrap my arms around her neck because I know exactly how she feels. It would be cruel to bond with her only to leave her behind. It’s impossible that I could ever have a dragon at Amriste. She belongs with her flare, and I belong in my village.
When we’re safe inside the castle walls once more, Dusan sighs. “Back to shit-shoveling duty.”
Fiala studies me for a moment. “You could give riding a try, Lady Isavelle. I’ve never met a Maledinni who doesn’t love flying.”
“Things are different these days,” I tell them. “It’s impossible for me.”
I wave goodbye to them and head for the Flame Temple to deliver the tsetsor tubers, and even though I don’t have as many as I would have liked, the Temple Crone thanks me for my work.
