Chapter 47 #2
The jet of flame hit the white dragon in the face, who recoiled.
The whiteness of his scales seemed undamaged, but the harnesses and tack on the dragon — made of leather and ropes — caught flame and merrily burned.
The metal rings of the harness were glowing yellow, and warped as the white dragon pulled against his tethers.
Mr. Rosings, hearing the commotion, had come running back into the fray.
“Sidton! Get that dragon under control!” He went to a bag behind the saddle (which was singed, but not actively burning) and grabbed out a wicked whip, with rocks braided in it.
He flicked it in front of his dragon’s eyes, immediately gaining its attention and stillness.
Valeraine jumped to her feet. Rosings was right about one thing: Lelantos was out of control. She turned to her dragon partner, her other half, and felt the rage in his heart. Lelantos was so irritated, so anxious, so outraged that another dragon would attack his rider.
She spread her arms wide, in a parody of his spread wings.
She was trying to say, “Stop, and let me hug you.” She walked forward to his neck, slow step after step, hoping that between Rosings and Lelantos, the white dragon wouldn’t attack her when her back was turned.
Lelantos settled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and his wings came in around her, making a tent of protection.
Lelantos was much warmer than he typically was, but it wasn’t hot enough to be uncomfortable. It was a blanket around her. She sat there for a minute, feeling the peace tick by around her as the situation deescalated.
She was roused from her meditation by Rosings yelling and arguing with someone.
“— fired on my dragon! You must throw them out.”
She pushed gently on Lelantos’ wing until he moved it so she could walk away from his embrace. It was time to face reality.
Kesley returned, “It was your dragon that attacked Miss Longbourn first, unprovoked.”
Mr. Pemberley, apparently the target of their arguments, stood on the field. He was breathing hard, as if he had run there. He did not look at Valeraine. He said, “Neither racer appeared to encourage this behavior in their dragons, and so I will not ban either.”
“But —”
“No, Royce. You should be content I am not throwing you out for starting this mess. Now get your dragon tethered somewhere else. You can borrow harnesses to replace your burned ones; I’ll tell a servant to help you.”
Rosings left with his dragon, both of them stomping and sputtering.
“Good luck in the air, Mr. Sidton,” Pemberley said, but his eyes were on Valeraine. The last time he had spoken to her, he had uttered her name with such anguish and passion that it still haunted her. Now, he used someone else’s name entirely.
“And to you,” Valeraine answered.
With that, Pemberley turned on his heel and left.
Valeraine watched him go. Should she run after him? She still wanted to pledge she would keep his secret.
Kesley put an arm around her shoulders, supportive and comforting. “Are you all right?”
She nodded.
“You know, you could consider not racing.”
Valeraine stepped away from him and his embrace. “What? Why?”
“Lelantos is already breathing fire at small provocations. Imagine what he might do during the race.”
Valeraine could see the logic to it, but refused to bow. “He’ll be fine.” She trusted her dragon, didn’t she?
Kesley shrugged, and tied the tethers with a fresh rope.
They did manage to get some rest and refreshment in the next hours. Valeraine went off to change into her costume, and Kesley hid to pretend he was the masked rider.
Valeraine waited until just before the derby was starting to emerge from her hiding spot.
She didn’t want to give anyone the chance to speak to her and look at her too closely.
The disguise was wearing thin already, but in the air it shouldn’t matter that she didn’t match Kesley’s build.
It would be too chaotic for anyone to be taking measurements. At least their hair colors were close.
Valeraine untethered Lelantos, and climbed up into the saddle.
She was wearing Papa’s flying leathers, adjusted carefully with the help of Kesley.
She was armored now, and a rope securely tied her to the saddle.
Her dragon shifted on his feet, neck whipping around at every growl or screech from the other tetchy dragons.
Lelantos gave a warning yip to a green dragon who looked at him for a little too long.
Valeraine let it slide without discipline.
If he wasn’t breathing fire, she would take that as a resounding success of self-control.
On this derby course, they would be flying to a small bridge and back.
The bridge had a collection of rags tied to it, and each rider would have to untie and collect one to prove they had gone all the way to the midpoint.
Maybe this was to combat cheating, but Valeraine suspected it was extreme.
The dragoneers were watching each other, and if a winner didn’t complete the full course there would always be a competitor ready to report him.
This system would cut down on those confrontations, which was likely the goal.
She suspected it would make the bottleneck at the checkpoint much worse, and the fights there more intense.
Each rider would have to climb down, procure a rag, and climb back on their dragon.
That was a lot of time for the nest-tetchy dragons to be parked next to each other, untethered and away from the reach of their riders.
The horn sounded to start the race.