Chapter 17
17
Isavelle
I have never seen more dragons in the skies over Maledin than I do in the following weeks. Every dragonrider is excited about the upcoming Dragon Games, and they’re spending all the time they can spare in the skies. Residents of Lenhale are treated to flamboyant aerial displays, and it’s not unusual for there to be spontaneous races between dragons while the people below cheer on their favorites. The city people wear sashes, bandanas, or neckerchiefs in the colors of their favorite dragon and rider pairs. A great number of them wear black and red for Zabriel and Scourge, which makes me proud to see. Others sport white and sky blue for Stesha, silver and black for Sundra and Merrex, green and yellow for Calliope and Verdun, and a dozen more colors for the many dragons of the flare. A few people even wear turquoise and gold and wave happily to me as I pass by. It’s mostly young women, and we’re so flattered that the first few times we see the ribbons, Esmeral and I stop in our tracks. Our supporters are delighted to meet Esmeral and stroke her scales, and my dragon adores all the attention. I remind the women that Esmeral and I aren’t going to win, but they tell me that they’re just excited to see us fly together, and tell me y’denris ol Ma’len fennar , or congratulations about the baby.
No one wears yellow and black for Kane and Auryn, but I doubt many people know that a former witchfinder and his feral dragon have entered the competition. Auryn is rarely glimpsed in the skies and keeps away from the capital.
It’s very pleasant to spend hours down at the dragongrounds, practicing with Esmeral or watching the other dragons and their riders as I polish her scales. I can’t help but seek out the only other Omega dragon with scales the palest shade of gold. Most of the time, he sleeps, making him the laziest dragon I’ve ever seen. When he’s not snoozing peacefully against whichever dragon is the stillest and warmest, he roams among the flare, ignoring the pecking order, and making the other dragons shriek with indignation and snap at him.
The flare’s organization was invisible to me at first, but now I’ve learned their patterns. The highest-ranked dragons rest and groom themselves closest to the flare’s Alpha, and woe betide any Beta—or worse, Omega—who upsets that unwritten rule by wandering wherever he or she chooses. Unless there’s danger, the lowest-ranked dragons remain at the edges of the flare, longing for the day they’ll be able to pass into the inner circle.
Calyx moves past Nilak, and she shrieks at him and viciously grooms his wings with her teeth. She noses him back to the edges of the flare and stretches her proud head to the sky, no doubt feeling better that order has been restored.
I recognize Calyx’s behavior from back when I first met Esmeral. She cared nothing for the pecking order while she was maturing either, which got her on Nilak’s bad side, though Nilak never groomed her wings. Calyx must be looking for his mate among the Alphas, and I wonder if he’s also looking for a rider. Esmeral would chase me all over the city when she was trying to convince me to be her rider.
One afternoon, I take Ravenna down to the dragongrounds to see if perhaps she’s meant to ride a dragon after all. The flare is scattered and disorganized with so many riders taking their mounts into the skies on such a beautiful day, and for a while, we merely walk among them as I keep an eye out for Calyx.
We pass by Omaira, a beautiful pink dragon with rosy gold eyes and talons, and watch as she and her rider take to the skies and fly swiftly around the dragongrounds. Omaira is a battle dragon and can move like the wind. She’s also very nimble with an experienced rider, and I wonder if Esmeral and I have a chance to score even one point in any event with dragons like Omaira to compete with. I think of my supporters feeling embarrassed and taking off their turquoise and gold colors after seeing us come last, and I break out into a cold sweat.
“You and Esmeral are faster than the pink dragon,” Ravenna says.
She must have noticed me staring at Omaira in something verging on horror. “Are we? I don’t know. Esmeral is fast, but I’m sure I slow her down with my clumsiness, and I’m getting fatter every day.”
I feel a sharp tug on my tunic, and hear a little growl. Esmeral has heard me, and she doesn’t agree.
“Well, I am getting very round,” I remind her, patting my belly. “You can’t argue with me about that.”
“This whole event is for you,” Ravenna reminds me with a smile. “Just the sight of Esmeral and you with your baby bump will have people cheering.”
“I know. But I want to do well in something ,” I say desperately.
She gives my shoulders a squeeze. “I can understand that. Apparently this is because we’re witches. I heard that Omegas never said boo to a goose in the Maledin that existed five hundred years ago. I think that kind of Omega would have suited Kane,” she adds sourly.
Seeing as she brought him up, I ask her a question that I’ve been burning to know the answer to. “It’s because we’re witches, and also because times are changing for the better. By the way, can I ask, what did you do to Kane to make him so ill?”
Ravenna smiles mysteriously. “He was always careful never to accept food and drink from me, but it was the end of his rut, and he was careless. I put urganetta in his wine.”
Biddy has taught me about urganetta. It causes severe vomiting, fever, and stomach cramping, and it’s lethal in large doses. “Did you not have enough to finish him off, or did Kane realize he was drinking poison halfway through and spit it out?”
Ravenna looks away. I wonder if she’s embarrassed by not killing Kane or that she mismeasured the poison. “Tell me, what’s the best way to make an Alpha unhappy?”
“Avoid him. Ignore him.”
“I can do better than that. If Kane is going to be here, then I want to make him miserable his every waking moment.”
“I’m on your side, but are you sure it’s wise to provoke him like that? The man is dangerous.”
“Kane has learned to fear plates of food and cups of water, but it’s not enough. Teach me how to torment an Alpha.”
It’s not the way I’d do things, but Ravenna is a witch, and she has the right to protect herself and torment Kane in any manner she chooses. “Don’t let him touch you, of course. Don’t let him bite you. Don’t let him take anything that holds your scent.”
“Anything else?”
“The nape of your neck,” I say after a moment. “Alphas go crazy over that spot. If you wear your hair up around him and stroke it with your fingers, you’ll have him biting off his own arm. I’m not exaggerating. Zabriel bears scars from his own frustration of when I wouldn’t let him touch me.”
Ravenna’s eyes widen in interest. “You were able to make him that desperate?”
I feel torn. On the one hand, Kane suffering because he wants Ravenna and can’t have her sounds wonderful. On the other, Kane isn’t Zabriel, and he might lash out at her.
“Just please be careful. Your Alpha doesn’t care if he hurts you. Mine did. Mine does. If you provoke Kane too much, you might regret it.”
“Don’t worry about me. I have a few tricks up my sleeves if he gets too close.”
Stesha is a few dragons away from us, tending to an iridescent dragon with a twisted scale. Apparently she’s feeling sensitive about it because Stesha has put on protective gauntlets that reach his shoulders. When he manipulates the scale, she hisses and clamps her teeth around his forearm. Every few minutes we hear his muttered, “Cardine, stop that. I know it hurts, but I’m trying to help.”
Cardine continues gnawing on his gauntlet.
Zenevieve has appeared on the dragongrounds, and she’s wandering easily among the dragons, her fingers trailing over their scales in silent greeting. The rule never to touch another rider’s dragon doesn’t seem to apply to her, but she was the last dragonmaster’s granddaughter, and she’s the present dragonmaster’s former ward. She must have known many of these dragons when they were very young. The older dragons knew her from when she was a baby. I watch in astonishment as she wraps both her arms around Nilak’s neck and rests her cheek there for a moment, and the fierce white dragon does nothing but blink slowly in the sunshine.
Zenevieve’s expression is a little sad as she approaches us.
“Are you thinking about Shar?” I ask gently.
She nods. “Shar and Minta. They would have loved the Dragon Games. Minta and I often raced against Nilak and the dragonmaster for fun. She loved competitions.” Forcing a smile, she says, “But I will take pleasure in cheering you all on, and I can point out all the advantages that you and Esmeral will have in each of the events because you are riding a smaller dragon. Minta was a small dragon as well.”
“Are there any dragons among the flare who seem interested in you as a rider?”
She glances around. “It would be nice to fly again, but I will have to wait and see if there are any fledglings who take to me as they grow. I think I will enjoy teaching a young dragon, if one of them will have me.”
Surely there is a dragon among the flare who needs a rider, and an accomplished one like I hear Zenevieve was. It’s sad to see her without a dragon, and I curse Emmeric all over again for murdering Minta and imprisoning Shar.
“There. Now, don’t you feel better?” The dragonmaster steps back from the iridescent dragon, and as he unbuckles his gauntlets, he sees the three of us together. I can’t make out his expression as he looks from me, to Ravenna, to Zenevieve.
I remember what he said when I floated the idea that Ravenna might be Calyx’s rider. Are witches to ride all our dragons? If he dares say an unkind word to Ravenna, I will shove a chicken neck down his throat.
I must think that too loudly as a moment later, I feel Esmeral butting her head against my lower back.
Chicken neck? Chicken neck for me?
I take the pouch from my pocket and hold it out of reach. “These are for Ravenna to feed to the riderless dragons. Not you.”
Esmeral flops dramatically to the ground and covers her head with her wing. A moment later, she peeps out from beneath her wing, and I burst out laughing.
“Just one,” I say, opening the pouch and giving her a chicken neck before passing it to Ravenna.
She looks around for the pretty Omega dragon, and he comes limping toward us, making sad little chirrups. He’s moving in an ungainly fashion on three legs while holding a foreleg aloft.
“Oh, poor Calyx,” Zenevieve says, getting down on her knees so she can examine it. After a moment, the dragon pulls his foot out of Zenevieve’s grasp. “I’m not sure what the problem is. Let me call the dragonmaster.” She stands up and scans the dragongrounds. “Now, where… Oh, there he is.”
Stesha has appeared around the side of an enormous scarlet dragon as if he already sensed that Zenevieve was looking for him.
As he approaches, Zenevieve explains to him, “Calyx has an injured foreleg. I can feel that it’s swollen, but I’m not sure what, um…”
The day is hot, and Stesha has unbuttoned his shirt to catch the breeze, or perhaps Cardine yanked it open while he was tending to her. Zenevieve trails off as she stares at his chest. I suppose Stesha has a nice chest. He’s built the way all Alphas are built, broad-shouldered and muscled, but he’s no Zabriel, and he’s not going to have me losing my train of thought.
Zenevieve catches my eye and turns red. To cover her embarrassment, she takes Calyx’s head and comforts the dragon with soft caresses. As she watches Stesha work, she keeps capturing her lower lip between her teeth as she looks at his chest, his hands, his shoulders.
I feel like grabbing Stesha’s head and turning it toward her, saying, Do you see how she’s looking at you, you big, stupid Alpha?
“I think…” Ravenna says slowly, running her fingers over Calyx’s scales. “I think I might be meant to ride Keilar. I’m not sure. Not that you’re not beautiful ,” she stresses, in case she’s offended Calyx.
Calyx seems to forgive her, probably because she feeds him the whole pouch of chicken necks.
“Is that Kane?” Zenevieve frowns at a man loitering at the edge of the flare. She was ill when Kane came to Lenhale the first time, and she still hasn’t met him. Lucky her.
Ravenna looks around, and her eyes narrow. Turning with exaggerated care to Stesha, she asks, “Dragonmaster, would you mind if I tied my hair up?”
Stesha is focused on Calyx. “You are free to do as you please, Ravenna.”
“I hear that Alphas are touchy about exposed necks. Kane might get angry and attack you.”
“Ah. There it is.” Stesha holds aloft a fine, shiny thorn and shows it to the dragon, who snuffles at it with indignation. After breaking the thorn into tiny pieces and throwing them away, Stesha pulls a jar of paste from his pocket and daubs some on the dragon’s foot.
Ravenna makes a show of fluffing her hair at the roots and gathering her hair into her hands, smiling at Stesha and pointedly ignoring Kane.
Finally, Stesha glances up from his work. He looks at Ravenna, and then at Kane, who is silently fuming at the edge of the dragongrounds. “Do we wish to make him angry?”
Stesha caresses Calyx, and then looks from Ravenna, to me, to Zenevieve, and then Esmeral. He holds out his hand to my dragon. Esmeral has figured out that something is going on, but she’s not sure what. With a tilt of her head as she gazes at Stesha’s hand, I can feel her wondering, Why?
Mischief , I reply.
That’s more than enough reason for my dragon. With a happy trill, she buffets her head into the dragonmaster’s hand.
Stesha turns and glances at Kane, raising his voice slightly so it travels. “The strongest Alpha always finds that all the Omegas flock to him. For safety. Protection. Because they want to be near him.” He moves his attention to his former ward, who has her arms wrapped around Calyx. “Is that the way it’s always been, Zen?”
She strokes the pale dragon’s neck. “Always, dragonmaster.”
“Are you looking forward to the games, dragonmaster?” Ravenna asks him.
Nilak paces over to us, and she blows a puff of air against Stesha’s nape, stirring his long, loose hair. Stesha turns his head and presses his brow against her snout, briefly closing his eyes.
“Of course we’re going to win, my beautiful dragon. I doubt the ability of certain others to even find the starting line.”
Kane looks like he’s swallowed a mouthful of poison. A moment later, he storms off, kicking rocks as he goes.
Stesha crouches down and returns his attention to Calyx’s talon. His expression is neutral, and I can’t tell if he enjoyed provoking Kane or not.
“I will be cheering for you and Nilak, dragonmaster,” Ravenna tells him.
“My dragon thanks you,” he replies in a bland tone.
He almost sounds as though he’s already won, and a competitive spark fires my belly. “Dragonmaster, I hope you will enjoy the games, but Zabriel and Scourge are going to win.”
Stesha looks up, his eyes narrowing. Slowly, he gets to his feet, and gazes down his long, sharp nose at me. “Respectfully, Lady Isavelle, I doubt it. Your mate and his dragon are content, whereas I have one or two things to prove.”
“To whom?”
He regards me in silence because he’s too courteous to tell me to mind my own business.
“Zabriel has things to prove,” I point out. “He’s far from content with Emmeric still out there somewhere. What is it that you have to prove?”
“I won’t bore you with a dragonmaster’s aspirations, Lady Isavelle.”
I smile at him, and decide to tease him a little. “But we are all flocked around you, adoring the strongest Alpha in the country. You couldn’t possibly bore any of us with what you have to say.”
Stesha’s gaze grows chilly. “Best of luck to your mate. I’m sure he’ll be content with second place. He’s had many years to get used to it.”
My eyes widen in indignation as he turns and leaves. Zabriel may be King of Maledin, but Stesha is prince of the cutting remark.
Esmeral and Calyx settle onto the ground to soak up the warm sunshine, and I huffily slide down my dragon’s stomach and rest against her.
“Is the dragonmaster going to win?” Ravenna asks me, sitting cross-legged against Calyx.
“Of course not. Zabriel will win.”
Ravenna turns to Zenevieve. “I hope one of them will win. What is your opinion, Zenevieve?”
Zenevieve seems lost in thought as she watches Stesha return to his dragon. She sits down next to us, still stroking Calyx’s neck. “Hm? Well, Stesha always wins when he and Zabriel spar.”
“Not these days,” I tell her. “What about their dragons? Who would you say is faster, stronger, and has better stamina? Scourge or Nilak?”
No one could possibly say it’s Nilak.
Zenevieve muses on this. “I don’t know. They have never outright competed. Those two dragons are excessively polite to each other at all times. They have to be because it’s their job to protect the flare and all of Maledin. They fly into battle together. Stesha and Zabriel need them to work together.”
“I guess we will find out,” Ravenna says.
Calyx has fallen asleep again. The three of us are quite cozy between the two Omega dragons, and I find myself leaning against Esmeral’s stomach and growing sleepy in the warm sunshine.
“Of course, Kane may surprise everyone and beat both the king and the dragonmaster,” Ravenna says.
“I wouldn’t have thought he has a strong enough bond with Auryn to win any events,” I reply.
“If that were the case, Auryn would have torn Kane to pieces by now, especially after he was poisoned,” Zenevieve points out.
“Then Auryn must like his rider…” Ravenna murmurs sleepily. Her eyes close, and she lays her cheek against Calyx and falls asleep.
Zenevieve and I watch the dragons flying overhead.
“How did Stesha previously wear his hair?” I ask after a while.
Zenevieve blinks sleepily. “His hair?”
“I overheard you remark on it to him not long ago that he changed his hairstyle. Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was on my way out of the Flame Temple and heard the two of you.”
She plays with a dried blade of grass. “He used to wear it tied back most of the time. Around our home he wore it loose. There was another time…” She trails off vaguely.
“Another time?” I prompt.
“Hm? Oh, nothing. I liked it when he was relaxed. We were cozy in those castle rooms.”
“If you liked it loose, do you think he’s wearing his hair this way now for you?”
She gives me a baffled look. “Me? Of course not. He’s probably copying Zabriel.”
I think Stesha would sooner hurl himself into the Font of First Flames than copy Zabriel in any way. “You should give the dragonmaster a hair ribbon before he competes.”
“To tie his hair up with?” she asks, confused.
“It’s a human custom. Before a competition, a girl will give a boy one of her hair ribbons and he’ll tie it around his arm or his weapon.”
“Why would I do that?”
“For luck. Support. Or in your case, as we say where I’m from, because you’re in love with him.”
Zenevieve looks away sharply.
I could let it rest, but unfortunately, since he saved my life, I’ve decided I like Stesha, and I really like Zenevieve. Carnivals and festivals were always a wonderful opportunity for lovers to confess their feelings.
“Do you know what in love means?” I rephrase it the Maledinni way. “Your heart beats to the rhythm of his dragon’s wings.”
Zenevieve buries her face in her arms and moans. “Lady Isavelle, please. It’s no good. I can’t drive myself mad over him for another five hundred years.” She huffs miserably, and then says, “Tell me what happened that day.”
“What day?”
“The day Zabriel fought the dragonmaster because he touched your hair.”
Ah, that day. The day Stesha caught Zenevieve’s scent on me. “I’m sure you’ve heard all about that day.”
“Yes, but I’ve never heard it from you.”
I smile to myself, and I tell her all about how distraught and confused Stesha was because he could smell his ward who was supposed to be long dead. Zenevieve rests her head on my shoulder as she listens.
“He really said I think I’m losing my mind when he caught my scent?”
“He did. He was in agony.”
Her brow creases in distress. “Oh, poor Stesha.”
Zenevieve can’t see me, so I briefly cast my eyes to the heavens. Poor Stesha? Stesha is doing just fine. Zenevieve is the one who’s suffering.
Later that night, I tell Zabriel what Stesha said about why he thinks he and his dragon will win the Dragon Games.
Zabriel sits up in bed so fast that he takes all the bedclothes with him. “Content, am I?” he declares angrily. “I’m mated and crowned, and so the dragonmaster thinks I’m going soft? I’ve never been more motivated to win, and neither has Scourge. We’re competing to prove ourselves, our leadership, and our bloodline.”
I gather the blankets back over me. “I know you’ll make me proud no matter what.”
Snorting and huffing, Zabriel lays back down and hugs me and his baby to his chest. “What has Stesha got to prove? What mate does he have to impress? What child in whose belly does he honor by winning? I have the bite of motivation and all he has is smoke without dragonfire.”
“You and Scourge will leave them all behind.”
Privately, I’m thinking about the hard gleam in Stesha’s eyes, and the angry, frustrated one in Kane’s. If Stesha has something to prove, and Kane has something to prove, and my mate does as well, these Dragon Games are going to turn into a ferocious battleground. Never mind about all the dragons. Maledin doesn’t feel big enough for the three Alphas.