3. Fenian “Fen”
CHAPTER THREE
FENIAN “FEN”
The hatchling’s cry cut through the ceremonial chanting.
None in the audience reacted, though a few flicked their fingers, creating sparkles with magic that rained down on those seated below them.
But I’d grown up around dragons. I knew the difference between distress and happiness.
That sound was distress.
Today, we’d been witnessing a sacred tradition, the awakening of a dragon bond.
The gift that separated the elite from commons.
My mother’s voice rang through the vaulted space, reciting words older than the stones beneath our feet, and I stood where I was expected to stand and thought what I was expected to think.
Mostly.
Lord Holmen’s face didn’t betray a single ripple of emotion. He’d attended every Claiming Ceremony for at least forty years, and I was sure he’d attend on his deathbed even if they had to wheel him in and prop him up enough to see.
The hatchling was six months old, give or take, and about the size of a large dog.
Its ruby scales caught the torchlight, making it glow.
It had been separated from its mother the moment the egg hatched.
This was standard protocol, though no one used words like “separated.” Prepared for unity was the phrase.
The hatchlings were prepared, and when they bonded, the children were blessed.
Lady Valis stood on the ceremonial dais near the dragon, her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
The girl couldn’t be older than nine. Petra, I thought her name was.
She wore a white silk gown, and her dark hair had been braided with silver threads that pulsed softly with magic.
The expression on her face was caught between terror and desperate hope.
I remembered that feeling and the fear that somehow, despite your bloodline and your training and everything you’d been promised since birth, the bond wouldn’t take. That you’d be the one it failed.
It never did. That should’ve been comforting.
The hatchling shifted, its talons scraping across the spelled stone.
Two servants worked to keep it calm—a commons man I didn’t recognize and the woman whose face I’d seen not long ago.
She’d pulled her reddish-brown hair back in a tight braid, and her brown eyes tracked the dragon, not the nobles.
She had a heart-shaped face. A thin scar cut across her hairline, pale and old. I wondered how she’d gotten it.
She was pretty in a way I wouldn’t have registered if she wasn’t ignoring everyone who mattered.
Though I didn’t know her name or her station beyond commons servant, I knew the line of her shoulders and the way she held herself careful and small.
Three days ago, I’d seen her hiding in a blackthorn thicket, holding her breath while the hunting party searched the clearing.
I’d seen the stains on her clothing, the panic in her eyes, and the way her hands had curled into the mud beneath her.
And I’d turned Aristus west and called the hunt away from her.
I hadn’t thought I’d see her here, her hands on a hatchling like she had every right to touch it, humming low while the creature’s breathing eased.
She had no idea I’d saved her life, and I had no idea why I’d done it.
“The bond between dragon and rider is sacred,” my mother said, magic enhancing her voice to fill the chamber.
“It’s a gift from the fates and the foundation upon which our kingdom stands.
The gift is passed through bloodlines, refined through generations, and bestowed only upon those who are worthy enough to carry it. ”
Petra’s hands twisted in the skirt of her white gown.
The priestess stepped forward, the Unity Band on a black velvet cushion hovering beside her.
The band had been carefully constructed of platinum woven with gold and set with small sapphires that matched House Valis colors.
The runes etched into the metal caught the light, a decorative touch my fellow elites adored.
Without the band our bonded dragons would die, so it was vital it was secured before the bond fully formed. It had been this way for eons and would be this way for many generations to come.
“The Unity Band represents the sacred connection,” the priestess said. “Once placed, it attunes the dragon’s spirit to its bonded rider, creating a link that takes us beyond mere communication. Two souls become one. What the band joins, no hand may part. To break the band is to break the beast.”
The hatchling’s head swung toward the approaching priestess, and its nostrils flared.
The commons woman stroked the creature’s neck. Her lips moved, though I couldn’t hear what she said. The hatchling’s attention shifted back to her, its body relaxing again.
The priestess smiled at the child. “Approach, Petra Valis, and claim your birthright.”
Her mother’s hand fell away as the girl stepped forward.
I was seven when they collared Aristus. Everyone said you didn’t forget your bonding. But when I reached for the memory, I only found the blur of my mother’s approval. The priestess’s smile. Nothing else.
I told myself that was normal.
The priestess lifted the Unity Band, and the hatchling froze. Its eyes fixed on nothing. Its breathing picked up rapidly.
My chest tightened. Something about this felt wrong.
The common woman’s hands jerked back from the hatchling’s flank. For half a second, her mask cracked, and grief flashed across her face, quickly smothered.
Then the band closed around the hatchling’s neck.
The priestess smiled. Lady Valis wept with joy. And little Petra reached out to touch her dragon’s snout.
“The bond is made,” my mother announced. “Welcome, Petra Valis, to the ranks of the high elite.”
Applause filled the chamber, along with magical sparks that snuffed out when they hit the stone floor.
I clapped with everyone else, but my attention remained on the hatchling, which hadn’t moved since the band closed. It went dead behind the eyes while Petra stroked its snout and laughed.
Disgust crossed the commons woman’s face before her expression took on the mask I’d seen a thousand times on her people.
The one that meant a servant had an opinion they couldn’t afford to voice.
She spoke in a low tone to the man, and his head jerked.
He gave her a sharp look, his eyes flicking toward the nobles still clustered around the bonded pair.
The group dispersed; the child skipping from the chamber with her mother. A celebration no doubt waited back at her home. The priestess, Lord Holmen, and my mother left through a door in the back of the room, their heads bent together in conversation.
The male commons led the newly bonded dragon out of the chamber, toward the aerie, while the woman left through the side door.
I followed her, telling myself I needed to ensure order. Servants spreading discontent during sacred ceremonies couldn’t be tolerated. It was my duty as crown prince to address disruptions before they became problems. The fact that I was lying to myself should’ve been the first warning.
I intercepted her in the corridor outside the preparation chamber.
When she saw me blocking her path, she came to a stop, lowering her gaze to the tile floor.
Three steps between us. Close enough I could see the pulse jump in her throat.
“Your Highness.” Her voice came out neutral. “Can I help you in any way?”
Lady Chambers, one of the members of my mother’s council, passed us, her gaze skimming over both of us before she continued down the hall and rounded the corner.
“What did you say during the ceremony?” I asked the commons woman.
“I don’t understand, Sire.”
“To the other servant. After the band was placed.”
Her shoulders drew back slightly. A tiny movement, barely visible, but I’d been trained to read bodies. She was deciding what to say and how much truth she could afford.
“I commented on the hatchling’s condition,” she said. “It was nothing important.”
“You looked disturbed.”
“Did I, Your Highness?”
I swore a subtle challenge came through in her tone.
My jaw tightened. “Explain.”
The word came out harder than I’d intended. She flinched, but I saw it. Good. I wanted her off-balance. She’d already put me there.
Her chin lifted enough that I could see her eyes up close for the first time, a rich dark brown with green flecks. I expected deference from her. Fear, maybe. Or that careful blankness servants used around the elite.
Her gaze spit fury.
“The hatchling was calm before,” she said. “Did you see how it moved after the collar was placed?”
“The bond settles them.” The words came automatically. “It’s well-documented. The Unity Band brings peace to their instincts and harmony between rider and mount.”
“Is peace what you felt when you bonded with Aristus?”
The answer should come easy. There were poems written about the ceremony.
So why couldn’t I remember mine?
I swallowed and the collar of my tunic felt like a band around my own neck.
At seven years old, I’d stood in the chamber like Petra. The priestess had lifted the band off the pillow. My mother had watched. And then the band was on. Aristus was mine. That was the memory. The before and after, not the moment itself.
“That hatchling trusted me ten minutes ago,” the woman said. “He followed my voice and responded to my touch.” She ground her teeth together. “Now he won’t look at anything.”
“You’re a servant. Commons.” I meant my words to sound dismissive, but they came out uncertain. “You don’t understand the complexities of—”
“I understand what I saw.” The color drained from her face, and her gaze dropped back to the floor, her voice lowering to almost nothing. “Excuse me, please, Your Highness. I misspoke.”
“Look at me.”
The words came out before I could stop them.
She didn’t. Her face set, and she kept her eyes down, and something about that refusal became a challenge I didn’t know how to answer.
Footsteps approached from down the hall. Overseer Nuant stopped beside us, frowning from her to me.
“Your Highness.” He bowed, his scowl growing. “Is there a problem with this one?”
Irritation sparked through me.
This one? She had a name. I didn’t know it, which was a problem itself. But she wasn’t an object to be tossed aside when she became inconvenient. Even if that was exactly what would happen if I didn’t intervene.
“If there’s an issue,” Nuant said, “I’ll address it myself, ensuring it’s addressed properly.”
His tone made clear what properly meant.
The woman’s knuckles blanched at her sides.
Why hadn’t I pointed to her hiding in the meadow or let the bloodseekers track her down? I hadn’t done my duty then, and I definitely wasn’t doing it now.
Twice in a handful of days, I’d stood at the moment where a prince was supposed to act, and twice I’d felt the urge to protect her instead.
A commons who questioned sacred traditions would be made an example of to maintain order and good morale. It was important that we preserve everything we held dear. I could tell Nuant to handle it. Walk away and forget this conversation happened.
“She was answering my questions about a hatchling’s feeding schedule,” I said. “I was confused about the ceremony preparation, and she was kind enough to enlighten me.”
Nuant’s brow furrowed.
“Carry on,” I bit out.
I waited until he’d left, then turned and strode away from the woman.
Nuant would report this. Not to my mother directly, however. He wasn’t stupid. But word would reach her. A prince defending a commons? She’d want an explanation.
I didn’t have one that would satisfy anyone, not even myself.
Aristus waited in the courtyard outside the aerie. He lifted his head when I came near, his silver-touched scales catching the afternoon light. I’d had him longer than I’d been without him. He was as much a part of my life as my own hands.
The dragon shifted under my touch, and a hitch came through in his breathing, the one I’d been noticing for months, a slight drag on the exhale.
I’d told myself it was an effect of the rigorous training schedule before the Scorching.
A change in feed. Three healers had told me the same thing, each more certain than the last.
I stroked his neck and felt his heartbeat under my fingers, steady but not right.
My hand shook. I pulled it back and pressed it against my thigh before anyone could see.
Last week during a routine flight, Aristus had banked left when I’d cued right. He’d corrected before anyone noticed, but I’d felt the change.
The third healer had used the word irreversible and dragged his gaze to his boots.
Is peace what you felt when you bonded with Aristus?
“That commons woman doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” I said. “She can’t. She doesn’t ride dragons. Commons don’t have bonds like we do.”
Aristus watched me. Through our bond, I felt only bits of him, like pressing your hand against a door and sensing movement on the other side, but never the room itself. That distance had been growing for months, a slow retreat I’d told myself was normal.
I tried to remember him from before we’d bonded, but only the after existed. My tutors had called that completeness. A bond so total it erased the seam.
I ran my thumb along the Unity Band and felt the groove worn into his scales beneath it. Twenty-three years of accommodation. I pressed my thumb into the calluses and held it there, the way you pressed a bruise to confirm it still hurt.
It did. I sensed it through our bond.
My hand dropped back to my side, and I mounted up, urging him to take flight.
As we flew, I didn’t look back toward the ceremonial chamber, and I didn’t let myself think about the hatchling standing frozen. Or the commons woman’s hands jerking away. Or the question she’d asked that I still couldn’t answer.
Leaning forward, I stroked Aristus’s neck.
Is peace what you felt when you bonded with Aristus?
No. It wasn’t.