Chapter 10
After the ceremony in the Chamber of Whispers, the four of them were taken to quarters to ‘rest’ for the night before they flew out. Soren had already resolved not to shut her eyes. She was sure any of her fellow new dragon riders would be happy to slit her throat and take Thessilnn as their own.
She didn’t even trust Princess Cion. In fact, she might just trust her the least. She had seen the sour envy in her eyes after the Choosing ceremony.
Soren couldn’t really blame her. After all, this was what the princess was fated for.
For Soren, this was just a fluke, and she was ill-suited to the task.
She had never trained with a blade nor bow, and her body was weak from the near-idleness of court life, even as a working servant.
Why the dragon had chosen to spare her, she had no idea.
The Sister leading them down the simple, winding hall stopped at a doorway.
It led into a wide, airy room full of cots and bed mats.
Basins of water and white towels were placed in the center of the room, cups of steaming noodles and fragrant herbal tea on a low table.
Soren could smell the Lily of the Moon petals in the drink from where they stood.
It was an expensive ingredient, one that spoke to who the Sisters thought they would be serving tonight.
Still, as they filed in, the Sister said softly, “Enjoy these last small comforts. There will be few where you are going.”
The boy snorted once the Sister left, the sound cutting through the quiet. “Was that a warning?”
“Felt like a threat,” the girl said snidely.
Princess Cion rolled her eyes. “Are you two really so naive that you don’t know what you’re getting yourselves into? The Sister spoke true. The camps, even the training ones, are no place for comfort. You’ll be treated like any foot soldier while you’re there.”
The girl laughed, a cold sound. “Except for you, of course, princess. Heir too I hear, now that brother dearest went to the grave.”
Soren bit back words of defense for the princess. They would be useless, and she wasn’t sure the princess even wanted them from her, not anymore. Besides, Cion could defend herself.
“That’s low of you, Elaana,” the princess said. “And you, Ilav? Nothing to say?”
Both their faces pinched, and the princess laughed. “Yes, I know who you two are. Didn’t you do your research before coming here?”
“Would it have mattered?” Ilav sneered, his eyes on Soren. “Given the trash they let in this year.”
The insult hardly stung. After all, she was used to such a thing. Even so, a notion stirred, spinning in her mind. She might still be an enslaved servant, but as far as she knew, she was conscripted as a soldier now too. If she was going to survive, she couldn’t cower and bow her way through.
“I did not ask her to choose me,” she found herself saying.
Ilav’s brows raised. “I’m sorry, did I permit you to speak? Cion, you need to keep your leash a bit tighter on this one. At home, we whip them for such defiance—”
“Shut your godsdamned mouth,” the princess cut in sharply.
“Soren isn’t wrong. You both know it, I know it.
It’s why I’m so envious of her right now.
But bitterness won’t help us, not out there.
Thessilnn chose her of her own free will.
We had one Vemon dragon in our fleet, and now we have two. That is something to celebrate.”
“Not if its rider can’t even fight,” Elaana muttered.
Soren curled her hand into a fist, nails digging into the soft skin of her palm. But she did not speak, not yet. Every move, every word, needed to be calculated, and the anger rushing through her clouded her judgement.
Princess Cion rubbed at her eyes, smearing the makeup Soren had applied this afternoon before the Ceremony. “Can you two shut up so we can just go to sleep?”
“As Her Highness wishes,” Ilav mocked with a little bow.
Soren glanced at her and said quietly, “Ignore him, my princess.”
The princess she had cared for since they were both small stared at her. They were at a crossroads, but Soren was still a servant, Princess Cion still the heir to the kingdom. She had the power to decide how they would move forward.
“Just call me Cion, Soren,” the princess said finally. “It will make more sense out there, and we’ve known each other long enough that it will not feel odd to me.”
“Yes, my pr—Cion.”
Using her name felt odd on Soren’s tongue, like a taboo word, something she should not speak aloud.
Elaana snorted as she took a cup of the tea and claimed a cot.
Ilav ignored Soren altogether, foregoing the tea and lying back on a mat.
Tentatively, Soren took a bowl of noodles and settled herself.
The princess did the same, and they ate in silence next to each other.
Soren resisted the urge to collect her empty bowl.
Night set in, and a Sister came by to collect their empty dishware before dimming the salt lights. Lamps like these must have been imported all the way from Meesling, where they were carved from a unique type of opaque desert rock and filled with a natural gas mined there.
Hours later, when all the others had long fallen asleep and the sunrise tinged the horizon a blazing shade of red, Soren let herself think of her family.
Of Kelshie.
Her parents.
Little Thurn.
They were all gone—her parents slaughtered by soldiers the day she’d been ripped from her village and Thurn likely murdered with the other small children deemed useless.
But Kelshie… Perhaps she finally had a chance to find her now.
A far-away roar echoed through the mountains, and the others stirred just as a Sister appeared in the doorway.
“It’s time,” she announced. “This is your first test. Your packs have been readied. Let us see if you will all make the journey.”
Soren swallowed hard but tried to hide her fear. Her dragon was by far the biggest, but she wasn’t sure if that was a help or a hindrance. She rose to her feet and quickly braided her hair before glancing at the princess—Cion.
“It’s fine,” she said quietly. “I want to feel the wind in my hair when I fly for the first time.”
Soren nodded, following the Sister out of the room with the others. She led them down a set of rickety wooden stairs hugging a cliff, open to the outside air and the hundreds of feet below, save a few raised wooden guardrails. Ilav looked a little green as they descended.
When they stopped again, they were standing in an open stone clearing, even larger than the arena from yesterday.
There, the dragons awaited, each wearing a harness, saddle, and pack.
Thin rope ladders hung down from the saddles, and Soren surmised getting onto Thessilnn would most definitely be more difficult than it would be for the others.
Good thing you’ve never been afraid of heights.
Soren jolted as she heard the dragon’s smooth, feminine voice in her mind for the first time since the ceremony.
She stared at her with those oddly familiar silver eyes.
Good instinct.
“What?” she said aloud, and Ilav laughed.
You can talk to me…quietly. Avoid the rat’s mocking.
Right, Soren thought.
“It’s time!” the Sister shouted. “Mount your dragon. They know where to go.”
Cion grabbed Soren’s wrist before she could move, whispering in her ear, “Stick with me once we get there, alright? You’ll be safer that way.”
She pulled away, and Soren could only nod before she rushed off to meet her dragon.
Slowly, Soren turned to face Thessilnn again, walking towards her and staring at the ladder for a split second before crawling up it.
The muscles in her arms and legs burned by the time she made it to the saddle, and her breath came in quick gasps, fiery hot in her chest.
Get ready.
That was all the warning she had before the dragon took off.
In a blind panic, she grasped for something to grab, finding a tether at the front of the saddle.
Air whooshed past her ears as Thessilnn flapped her wings.
To her right, she thought she might have heard Elaana scream, but she didn’t dare turn her head to look.
A few flaps later, they were soaring, the mountains on either side of them. That was, until the dragon sailed higher into the clouds and the peaks disappeared. Soren clung to her as the icy mist hit her square in the face.
Relax. You know how to do this.
Squinting through the moisture of the clouds and the wind, Soren shot back, I do not. And it’s freezing up here.
Ah. There’s some personality—finally.
Soren sighed, coughing as she inhaled the air too quickly. Next to her, another dragon—Ilav’s—shot up further at a sharp angle. She thought she might have heard him shout, but it was quickly lost to the wind.
Is his dragon trying to get him killed?
A huffing chuckle. Olariu likes to test his riders.
He’s had others before?
Just two. He is very particular.
And you?
She paused, and Soren wondered if she had pushed too far, but the dragon simply replied, Once, yes. A long time ago.
Even in Soren’s mind, the dragon’s voice spoke of pain, so Soren didn’t push.
After a while, the flying began to feel less terrifying and more like riding a horse: uncomfortable but not completely foreign.
A few times, she saw the other riders and their dragons through the clouds.
By the time the sky had begun to turn pink with sunset, the cold remained but had turned less brutal.
They must be getting close.
Thessa.
Soren wasn’t sure what had compelled her to call the dragon that.
But as the dragon tipped downward, she simply said, Yes, child?
Have we arrived?
They descended further, close enough to the ground that Soren could see the light of fires dotting the camp and specks of people moving around. Her stomach turned with unease. She did not know exactly what to expect, but she could guess.
She was Misean.
A servant.
A woman.
You are untouchable now, Soren.