Chapter 5
TAMSYN
AT brEAKFAST AKSEL ANNOUNCED THAT WE WERE TOgather in the arena.
The skeppar’s tawny gaze swept over the pride as though searching for disobedience. Not that he would find any evidence of it. Everyone was well trained and unfailingly loyal, even if a few of the youngest dragons in the pride showed flashes of willfulness.
Such willfulness did not run deep. No one hesitated at such announcements. Not even me. I fell into place beside Kerstin as we filed into the arena.
Vetr had not been present at breakfast—another repast that went far beyond anything ever experienced in Penterra.
My sisters and I had usually fed upon honeyed porridge in the salon attached to the schoolroom.
Never had we stuffed ourselves on so many confections and too many rashers of bacon to count, but this was just another morning in the pride.
Sometimes Vetr missed the morning meal—he and those assigned to lookout duty. Obligations took him elsewhere. And yet he was in the arena when we all paraded in and took our seats on the stone benches that formed a semicircle around the ring. Once everyone was settled, our gazes fixed on him.
Aksel nodded at him, indicating that everyone was present who should be.
“I’ve decided a rekon to the south before winter sets in is in our interest,” Vetr began.
This announcement sent a ripple through the pride.
I glanced around, noting the faces bright with anticipation.
Since my arrival, there had been two excursions south into Penterra and one north into Veturland.
Rekons, they called them. The purpose was to gather intel on the population of humans surrounding us on each side, to the north and south …
and to collect any supplies unattainable in the Crags.
But mostly rekons were for information. Vetr or one of the skeppars led these expeditions. Always.
“I will be taking”—his gaze skimmed the pride—“Harald with me and …”
Everyone leaned forward, eagerly waiting, hoping their name would be announced next.
It was no shock to hear Harald’s name, after all.
He was often chosen for these excursions.
Harald was one of the older members of the pride.
Bonded to Anders, a skeppar, he was capable and reliable, one of the strongest among us—as an onyx, maybe the strongest.
It was a privilege to be picked. These rekons were no mere patrols about the Crags, to hunt and to gather food, no jaunt into surrounding territory.
They lasted days. Sometimes longer, even weeks.
Going on a rekon meant Vetr thought you were ready.
Skilled and sharp enough to handle yourself among humans in situations of great risk, when one mistake could expose and endanger us all.
With Vetr leading the group, no skeppar would be joining them.
Either he or a skeppar guided these expeditions.
It was important to leave competent leadership in place.
The pride must always be well guarded and fortified, able to continue functioning if something should befall Vetr or the skeppar leading the rekon.
“Arran.” His gaze landed on the pride’s single hypnos dragon.
Like Harald, Arran was often chosen. His talent complemented Vetr’s.
Arran could fill in the gaps left behind in the wiped minds of those hapless humans Vetr shaded.
He could persuade humans to believe whatever narrative he wished to feed them.
Working in concert, Vetr and Arran were a formidable power when journeying into dangerous lands.
Vetr, Harald, and Arran. They were the best of us.
Well, some of the best of us. The pride abounded with dragons very good at what they did.
And then there was me. Fumbling. Trying to catch on, to catch up like some ungainly juvenile.
It was maddening. I still had much to learn. I did not have the excuse of youth.
The youngest of the pride lacked the experience and polish that time would bring. At my age, I should already have all that—be that.
I vowed I would be.
“Tamsyn.”
At first, the sound of my name did not penetrate. I was too busy thinking how I would shape my path forward.
I did not move, simply continued to look rather blankly at Vetr. And then, when I did realize my name had been spoken, I could not comprehend why.
Kerstin’s sharp elbow to my side jarred me. I blinked and swept my gaze around the arena, taking in Vetr’s frosty eyes, so calm, so steady, like windless seas. Not like the others, who looked at me with surprise and, in Nayden’s case, resentment.
“Her? You mean to bring her with you on a rekon?” Nayden shook his head in clear denial, refusing to accept this. “No. She’s not ready! Take me! I am ready!”
Me?
Anders made a rough sound in his throat and took a menacing step toward Nayden.
Vetr appeared more relaxed, flicking two fingers up in the air in a mild, unhurried manner, staying Anders’s large frame as Anders murmured, “Just saying that proves you are not ready.”
But I am? I gulped.
Nayden’s face burned hot, deepening to a red several shades brighter than his vibrant hair. His big hands balled up into fists beside him as though he was battling the urge to strike something.
Vetr did not miss the action. He inclined his head sharply. “You and I do not need another discussion in private, do we, pup?”
For a moment I thought that Nayden might take him up on that challenge. Then Mats placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and whispered something into his ear.
Whatever was said was clearly sound advice and served as reminder enough for Nayden to hold his tongue. His gaze dipped, and he gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, resembling a child rebuked. He would offer no more protest or criticism of me. At least not presently.
Vetr’s stare landed on me then, deeply penetrating, unflinching, and that was its own onslaught, because I feared he would see just how unprepared I was. I’d heard how dangerous these rekons could be, and although I was no weakling, there was a long line of better-trained dragons in front of me.
“Tamsyn.” He said my name without inflection. “Are you ready?”
I felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on me then, but I had eyes only for him, for Vetr, for the one who deemed me ready to fly south. Back to where I’d come from, back to the place I’d thought my home.
Back to the beginning.
Slowly, I nodded.