Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Agreat force slammed into Lelantos’ right wing, sending them spinning. They were no longer swooping — they were falling out of the sky.
Valeraine lost her seat, her behind bucking away from the safe saddle. Her legs now dangled in the air, ripped to and fro by the wind. Her stomach rose into her chest and her heart seized. The ground was spinning above her now.
Her hands still clutched the reins. She pulled herself back into the saddle, hand over hand scrambling until she could grab the pommel. Lelantos righted himself, hovering in the air, disorientated.
Valeraine caught sight of the pack of dragons, now pulling away from them.
Lelantos saw them as well, and flapped to follow.
It was evident who had rammed them: the burgundy, horned dragon, ridden by Pemberley.
He had been lurking underneath the pack, waiting for a chance to knock some unsuspecting dragon out of the sky.
He had probably cheered when he realized it was Longbourn’s dragon he victimized, the one that didn’t deserve to be at this derby.
Who cared if it nearly resulted in her death?
Valeraine squeezed her knees, telling Lelantos to accelerate. He did not. He was favoring his right wing. She felt the soreness, tingling and stiff, a phantom wing of her own.
The winner touched down: the white dragon. The fiercest rider had won, after all. Next was Pemberley’s red, then the Nethenabbi blue.
Valeraine landed in the field where they had begun. Lelantos came in seventh. Seventh place out of eight dragons; they had only not been last because someone had been knocked entirely from the air.
They could have won. They had been in the lead several times, but it had been stolen from her.
It had been stolen by those who assumed Longbourn wasn’t a dragon house, that Lelantos didn’t deserve to fly in a derby.
That if Longbourn couldn’t produce a son as their dragoneer, they weren’t eligible for dignity.
Lelantos laid down, his belly resting on the ground.
His sides heaved as he breathed harder than Valeraine had ever heard from him.
She touched his spine, and felt a flutter of emotion from him.
It was pale and small in comparison to what she had felt during the race, but it was unmistakable: pain.
She felt his tired wings, and the stinging ache that had come from the attack of the burgundy dragon, from Pemberley.
She felt the pain of Lelantos’ overworked muscles, screaming for air. His mighty lungs were burning.
She couldn’t put him through that again. She had risked everything, and for what? An unimpressive placement in the derby? Emphasizing to all the spectators that Longbourn didn’t have a dragon ready for a derby, or a rider?
Longbourn was still a dragon house. They deserved their title. She knew that in her bones.
But maybe everyone had been right when they looked at Lelantos, so old his wings stretched and wrinkled.
He was not fit for the battles of the sky.
He deserved a quiet life and an eventual retirement, not being pushed in the derby.
It would be for the good of Longbourn if they could race well, but it would be disastrous if Lelantos was gravely injured.
At least they had gotten lucky during this one, and he could still fly despite his injury. He would recover.
Pemberley had climbed down off his dragon and was approaching her.
He swaggered, arrogant and already spoiling for a fight.
“I told you. You don’t belong in a derby,” he condescended to declare, raising his voice so it would reach her on Lelantos’ back.
“You shouldn’t try that again, certainly not on the borrowed Longbourn dragon.
You will meet a similar fate to this: disappointed, injured, and among the losers. ”
“I recall that you were also among the losers.” Valeraine shot back, pitching her voice as low as she could.
She thought it was fine, but the blood pounding in her ears made it hard to tell.
“On top of it all, you are the hypocrite who campaigned for civility before the race, and yet you attack your fellow riders.”
“I race with my heart and my honor, and I will have satisfaction if you insist I do not!” Pemberley started to remove his glove, as if to throw it at her feet.
Valeraine could not be involved in a duel. She didn’t know the first thing of swordplay or pistols. Pemberley would demand the identity of the man he had challenged. It was a net she could not be caught in.
Valeraine signaled Lelantos to get to his feet, and he obliged. They took to the air, slowly gliding toward Longbourn nest. He knew the way, and was eager to return home.
She was finally able to take a measured breath. It was over. It was finished.
All she had to do was get Lelantos home.
The spectators to the derby would be given time to freshen up, then the ball would begin as twilight came. Valeraine looked forward to watching the sunset from the Longbourn nest, alone and far away from disastrous derbies, tetchy dragons, and argumentative Mr. Pemberley.