47. Aurora
AURORA
“God and Goddess—she’s as golden as her egg!” Ryse exclaimed in my ear.
“Yes, she is. She’s perfect,” I breathed.
And then L’eesha blinked and looked up at me and I was lost in her rainbow eyes.
Because her eyes were the one thing about her that wasn’t gold—they were swirling bands of pale, shiny color—the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.
As I looked into my drakeling’s eyes and she looked into mine, I felt her love for me filling me up like a cup as the soul-bond formed between us and I knew neither of us would ever be alone again.
I was everything to her—her mother and father, her best friend, her sister, the one person she wanted to be with forever and always. She would be with me until the day I died and on that day, she would die too. We would never be parted, and she would be a part of my heart forever.
“my Auri,” I heard her whisper in my mind. And then I felt a rush of starving hunger—she needed more meat! She needed it now!
“Here you go,” I said, laughing with joy as I pushed another bloody chunk of goat meat into her mouth.
She nearly swallowed it whole in her eagerness and then begged for another.
“Take it easy—don’t let her overeat,” Ryse said in my ear. “It’s not good for them.”
But he was grinning proudly at me as I cradled L’eesha in my lap.
“She’s beautiful,” he said. “I’ve never seen a Pure Gold dragon before, though the old texts I’ve been reading talk about them.”
“I haven’t either,” I said, as I fed her more meat. “She’s the most wonderful dragon in the world!”
“All riders feel that way about their dragons,” he said, grinning. “By the way, M’alex said congratulations. Actually, he said, ‘Congratulations on your Golden Queen.’ Whatever that means.”
“Tell him I said thank you,” I said distractedly. I could barely pay attention to anyone or anything else—I was lost in my little golden drakeling’s rainbow eyes as she gulped down chunk after chunk of meat.
Her little wings were already spreading, her baby-soft scales hardening as they came in contact with the air. It was proof that cracking the shell for her hadn’t hurt her—she’d still struggled enough getting out, that blood had circulated to her wings, which were good and strong.
Already she looked bigger, I thought proudly. Though she was still less than half the size of the other drakelings, she was utterly perfect.
But not everyone thought so.
Master Yarsmouth appeared abruptly, standing over me with a frown on his face.
“What’s this?” he demanded, frowning down at L’eesha. “Cadet Lysandra—what have you done?”