Chapter 2 #2
Mirelle is visibly sweating as she approaches me. Queen Magritte has never wanted me to treat her any differently just because she’s small and timid, and so I extend the same courtesy to her daughter.
“Mirelle, I will repeat everything I said to Zabriel. Make sure you listen.”
Onderz moves forward to comfort the trembling girl, but I hold him back with a hand against his chest while I keep talking. The girl has her own two feet. She can stand on them.
I’m not sure Mirelle heard a word I said either.
She clambers up on Damla’s back with a lot of panting and whimpering.
When Damla moves beneath Mirelle, the girl screams. Damla is such a patient dragon that she doesn’t react, but several young dragons at the edge of the flare turn their heads toward us and snort in alarm.
The princess keeps her eyes squeezed shut tight as Damla takes to the skies, flies in a small circle, and comes into land. I sigh in exasperation and wait for the girl to dismount.
She doesn’t move.
“Mirelle, get down here.”
“But it’s so far down,” the princess whimpers.
“Damla isn’t very big. You should be able to climb down on your own.”
“I c-c-can’t, dragonmaster.”
“I’ll come get you,” Onderz calls.
“Stay where you are, Onderz. Mirelle, there are hand and footholds in the saddle. Seek one with your right foot. There, you have it. Now swing your leg over, and either slide to the ground and meet it with your knees bent or climb down all the way.”
Mirelle is practically sobbing as she makes her way painfully slowly to the ground. “I’m sorry I’m not doing it right, dragonmaster.” Finally, she seeks the ground with her foot, misjudges the distance, and falls in a heap.
Mirelle isn’t naturally clumsy, cowardly, or stupid, but she’s been told she is her whole life by her father, and now here we are.
The princess gets to her feet and dusts herself off with embarrassed tears lacing her lashes. “You can yell at me now, dragonmaster.”
I fold my arms and look down at her. “Did you ride that dragon on your own?”
Mirelle nods tearfully.
“Did you get on and off that dragon on your own?”
She nods again.
“Then you’ve learned something, and you’ll do it faster and better next time. Go and join the others.”
“Thank you, dragonmaster,” she gasps, and hurries away.
Finally, there’s just Zenevieve and Emmeric left.
Emmeric is watching the newcomer unusually closely.
I remember what Alin said yesterday. The king wishes her to meet his sons.
Zenevieve is a pretty girl, and I’m sure Zabriel and Emmeric will make fools out of themselves trying to impress her, but they had better not do it on my dragongrounds.
Apprehension trickles down my spine as Emmeric continues to stare at her like a snake watches a mouse. I walk past him and tread heavily on his foot.
“Ow! Watch where you’re going, you stupid—”
“Zenevieve, come forward.”
I’m explaining to the girl what she has to do when Nilak clicks her teeth. Damla moves back, and my dragon paces in front of her.
“Nilak, I’m sorry, but I’m not finished with the trainees,” I tell her, thinking that she’s impatient for me to be done here so we can go flying.
But Nilak’s attention is on Zenevieve. She noses at the girl’s shoulder and then turns as though she’s offering her saddle to Zenevieve.
Zenevieve looks up at me in confusion. “Is Nilak asking me to ride her?”
Are you? I think to her.
Destrin’s grandfledgling, Nilak replies. She will often do that, giving me her reason and imbuing it with her intention, rather than saying yes or no. In this instance, her reply is filled with assent. She wishes to take Destrin’s granddaughter on the girl’s first flight.
Only two people have ever ridden Nilak. Destrin and me. If anyone asked me if they could touch my dragon, let alone ride her, I would throw them into the canyon around the dragongrounds for being presumptuous. I never imagined that Nilak would offer herself to anyone else, especially a trainee.
“It’s Nilak’s wish,” I say, puzzled, but I’m not going to argue with my dragon.
Zenevieve’s eyes shine as she stares up at my enormous white dragon. Nilak is far bigger and more intimidating than Damla, but she doesn’t seem afraid. “Do you mean it? I get to ride Nilak?”
“Why does this little idiot get to ride an Alpha dragon?” Emmeric complains.
Zenevieve rounds on him with a scowl. “Maybe I’ll be an Alpha one day. Did you ever think of that?”
Zabriel grins at her. “That’s the spirit.”
Emmeric bursts out laughing. “You, an Alpha? With your little matchstick legs, so desperate to be liked, smiling at everyone?”
“I don’t care if you like me, Prince Emmeric,” she says haughtily, and then turns her big eyes up to me. “Couldn’t I be an Alpha, dragonmaster?”
Even before their designation emerges, Alphas don’t turn to other people for reassurance. This girl has Beta written all over her, but that doesn’t mean an Alpha dragon won’t choose her.
I realize I’m thinking as if it’s inevitable that Zenevieve will be chosen by a dragon. Sometimes I’ll know a dragon’s designation before it emerges or what kind of rider it will choose, but I never have any other insight. But for some reason, looking at Zenevieve, it feels certain.
“Who knows. You may ride Nilak today, or Damla if you prefer,” I tell her.
“Nilak please,” she says eagerly. “I could never pass up the chance to ride the dragon who was my grandfather’s pride and joy.”
Ten years ago, I remember Zenevieve as a small child with a big voice, hollering at the top of her lungs while she tried to keep up with her much bigger brothers.
She was a confident, beloved daughter with a sunny smile, surrounded by laughter, warmth, and care.
The exact opposite of my experience as a child.
I know she remembers me from back then. I saw the confusion in her face when I told her my name.
I was a gawkish and gangly boy, unwanted, dirty, and disliked.
Starved for any scrap of affection and attention, and hating myself for it.
My mother and father perished from plague when I was nine, and I had no other family to take me in.
There were a few like me at the castle, orphaned and with no one to love them, put a roof over their heads, or even remember they existed.
If I worked hard and stayed out of trouble, I could take a little food from the Great Hall and sleep in a hayloft.
I was usually cold, often ashamed, and always lonely.
I didn’t know how to make friends, but Destrin somehow saw my potential and my love for dragons, and he took me in.
The shame and loneliness lingered even after I became the dragonmaster’s apprentice, but eventually, Nilak changed that.
The most beautiful, proudest, cleverest, and fiercest dragon chose me. From the moment I saw her, I adored her.
I take Nilak’s head between my hands, reminding her that Zenevieve has never ridden a dragon. Nilak blinks slowly, telling me she understands. Any other Alpha dragon, and I’d refuse, but I know my dragon, and Nilak is as steady as a rock. Also, I can deny her nothing, and this is what she wants.
Still, the handholds to climb up to the saddle are only reachable if you’re seven feet tall. I reach for a strap and hold out my other hand to Zenevieve. “I’ll have to carry you up there.”
Breathless with anticipation, Zenevieve slips her hand into mine.