Chapter 5 #4
“They are sweet,” I say, smiling as two silvery dragons, barely longer than my forearm, romp around in my lap. “But you’d miss Dianthe if you stayed here always. You’d miss Onderz too, wouldn’t you?”
Mirelle turns pink and nods shyly, not meeting my eyes. “I would.”
She’s so different from her brothers, so timid and always jumping at shadows. I’ve heard that Dianthe is an Omega dragon, and I wonder if that means Mirelle is an Omega as well. Dragons often choose riders of the same designation.
I watch Mirelle surreptitiously through my lashes.
There are certainly many things about her that fit with what I’ve heard about Omegas.
Small, pretty, easily frightened, withdrawn.
Occasionally she possesses an intensely sweet scent, which I think is supposed to grow stronger as she gets older.
Alphas apparently lose their heads around Omegas, desiring them, needing to protect them, but none more than the Alpha who will be her mate.
There are other, more personal things about Alphas and Omegas that I’m dying to ask about, but Mirelle might combust with embarrassment if I ask her about slicks and knots, and it could be she’s just as clueless as I am.
Mirelle glances up at the high ceiling of the Flame Temple where it’s open to the sky. Every week, Pollex replenishes the font by breathing dragonfire into the temple.
“It’s getting late. Should we go? We shouldn’t be here when the dragonmaster comes to collect the hatchlings.”
That’s one of the reasons why I like to be here in the evenings.
When their mothers go out on missions with their riders, the hatchlings are sometimes dropped into the temple to sleep in front of the font.
Stesha comes by to collect the smallest ones who would have trouble making it back to the dragongrounds by themselves.
It makes a warm, melty feeling spread through my belly to see him striding through the temple with baby dragons perched on his shoulders and more asleep in his arms. I’ve helped him collect the hatchlings before, and once he even asked me to carry some back to the nesting caves with him because there were so many.
“Why shouldn’t we be here?”
Mirelle gives a little shudder. “Because he’s so fierce. Doesn’t he frighten you?”
I laugh. “Of course not.”
“He scares me. The only Alpha who doesn’t terrify me is Onderz.”
“Let’s stay and wait for him. I promise that Stesha doesn’t look so fierce with a hatchling chewing on his hair. Don’t you think it’s admirable the way he treats you like any other dragonrider? Just as capable. Just as worthy of the title.”
“I’m not sure,” Mirelle says. “I love Dianthe, but it’s probably a waste of time that I’m learning to fly. I’m too stupid and scared to be useful.”
“Who told you that?” I ask indignantly.
“Everyone says that about Omegas.”
“Do they, or is it just your father and your horrible brother?”
Mirelle stares at me wide-eyed with shock. She leans closer and hisses, “Zenevieve, be careful. It’s better not to speak about my family than say something that might be treasonous.”
“I was just pointing out that they’re wrong about you.” But she’s probably right that it’s not wise to be caught bad-mouthing the king.
Mirelle watches me as she strokes the blue hatchling. “I wish I was always brave like you and could speak my mind.”
“I’m not brave,” I tell her, thinking about how I acted when Prince Emmeric and King Aylard were touching me.
Even now that I carry a sword, I still prickle with self-consciousness whenever an Alpha looks my way, or a group of men are staring at me.
I don’t mind talking with Onderz and Zabriel, but the only Alpha whose attention feels good is Stesha.
“I act confident when things are safe and easy, but as soon as I’m cornered, I freeze.
I can’t find my voice, and I don’t know how to tell people to leave me alone or move back. ”
“I’m the same way,” Mirelle says. “Always around men. I just want to run and hide.”
“We ride dragons. Why are we like this?”
“I think it’s my designation,” she says mournfully. “I’m supposed to be like this.”
“So what’s my excuse?” I mutter.
There’s the sound of running feet in the corridor outside, and then a castle guard bursts into the Flame Temple.
He has his sword drawn, and his panicked shout echoes around the hushed space. “Wild dragons! Wild dragons are attacking the flare.”
I jump to my feet, cradling the silver hatchlings against my chest. Grandfather used to tell me stories about the wild dragons of Maledin.
Dragons who were born outside the king’s flare, far to the east where there are few people and the landscape is desolate.
Some form their own flares, and they’re vicious about protecting their territory.
Through the open roof of the temple, we hear the roar of an Alpha dragon.
The Temple Crone, a wiry, striking woman with steel gray hair and intense eyes, strides to the middle of the space and claps her hands. “Everyone, go up the stairs and move to the back of the Flame Temple. You will be safe there. Our riders will handle the attack.”
But I’m a rider. I should be out there.
Castle and city residents, along with the Temple Maidens and Mothers, stream up the stairs and disappear into the depths of the temple.
I can hear the distressed screams of dragons from the direction of the dragongrounds, and it puts my stomach in knots. I give the silver hatchlings to Mirelle.
“Take care of the hatchlings.”
“You can’t go out there,” she calls after me. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Maybe I can help, and I have to know that Minta is safe.”
Tears well up in her eyes as she follows me. “Zenevieve, please. I’m frightened for you.”
“I’ll be all right.” I push her toward a Temple Maiden, who is anxious to help the princess, then turn and run out of the temple. I can hear screaming and the roars of dragons. What if Minta is hurt?
What if Nilak is hurt?
What if Stesha is hurt?
I can’t prevent myself from picturing them all bleeding and dying, and I pray that the gods protect them.
With my heart in my throat, I run through the castle, dodging around soldiers and civilians who are running in all directions.
Orders are shouted for people to shelter in the Flame Temple or the Great Hall, but I ignore them.
I burst out onto the battlements and see that the sky is filled with smoke.
The city is on fire, and I feel a spurt of worry for my parents.
All around me in the skies are the shapes and colors of unfamiliar dragons.
A massive presence looms close, and I flinch back as I realize that the dragon is a startling shade of yellow not seen in our flare.
This must be Golden Terror himself. He reaches for me as he swoops past, razor-sharp talons extended, all of them red and dripping with blood.
I stumble backward just in time to avoid a killing blow.
My heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest.
Over the noise of all the panicked people and dragons, a strange sound reaches my ears. I turn on the spot until I see someone standing not far from me, his eyes lit with delight and his mouth open wide in hilarity.
Emmeric is witnessing Lenhale under attack, and he’s laughing.