Page 5

Chapter 5

Marius

A t the end of the tournament grounds, Marius dismounted and walked around to Ragewing’s head. The dragon trilled and Marius rubbed the beast between the eyes, then under the chin. The smooth warmth of Ragewing’s scales and the scent of the dragon’s fire-smoke breath loosened the tightness in Marius’s shoulders and neck. Ragewing’s flame-like eyes studied Marius, intelligence flickering in their depths. The dragon snuffled against Marius’s scar, the one that ran all the way from hairline to chin on the left side of his face.

“It doesn’t bother me anymore. I swear it.”

Ragewing tucked him under a wing and the creature’s protectiveness warmed Marius’s heart.

“You did very well today, Ragewing. As usual.” He ran both hands down the dragon’s lower neck and chest, then began loosening the girth. “I don’t want to head back to the stables at the moment, friend. It’ll be packed with everyone rubbing down their mounts. Plus those noisy younglings your sister just bore…”

Raising his snout to the air, Ragewing let out a low, proud growl.

“You are such the doting uncle, hmm?” Marius smiled and rolled up the dirtied linen he’d used on the dragon’s scales and tossed it into the laundry bin.

The quiet here on the far side of the stands was pleasant and the angle of the wall created a nice shelter from the wind. He could see the grounds and the open gate at the other end, and perhaps was less noticeable—although hiding with a dragon was near to impossible. He was so tired of answering tournament questions. Yesterday, everyone and their mother had been querying him about how many competitors would be in this year’s event, what the chances were of someone dying, and who was the favorite. The enthusiasm of the newer knights was commendable, but he wished the commander or even Ophelia would speak up more often. He pushed his worries away and worked on Ragewing’s tail and feet, removing debris and applying dabs of the herbal unguent he kept in a small leather-wrapped vial in his belt bag.

A female with tan skin and wavy, shoulder-length dark hair strode into the arena, her head swiveling and her eyes wide. If he didn’t know better, he’d have guessed she was here to watch, but she wore a set of ridiculously out-of-date riding leathers. She must be a competitor in the tournament. She spun, her arms wide, and a laugh like chimes rang from her mouth. His lips lifted. Most competitors were far too terrified to enjoy the beauty and majesty of the tourney grounds or to show such joy at simply being here. But fear was the wiser reaction. Stopping mid-spin, the female stared in his direction. He and Ragewing had been spotted.

Marius growled. “Oh, goodie. More questions.”

Ragewing bumped his shoulder.

“I’ll be polite,” he whispered, “but she needs to be informed of the danger. Obviously she is clueless. And quite small for this task.”

“Good morning,” she said, her voice bright as she approached.

Her eyes were a dark golden brown, like the honey gathered in the valley at the base of the mountains. She was incredibly petite, barely reaching the midpoint of Ragewing’s foreleg. Her gaze slid over his face and body. He swallowed. What was she thinking?

She eyed Ragewing, full lips parting as she studied his tucked wings and the two spikes on his head.

Marius bowed shallowly. “Morning. I assume you plan to compete for the new Mist Knight position?” Her uniform was actually a set of mock leathers some of the market merchants sold to children. He didn’t think she knew that.

“Yes.” She set her slender hands on her stomach, then patted herself down. “Is there something wrong with my armor?”

He gritted his teeth. She’d be seriously injured wearing those ratty, ill-fitting strips of poor material. “Don’t you have a sponsor?”

“I am independent.”

Of course she was. Serious contenders took the time to find noble families that would team up with the dragon rider’s kin to pay for gear. Fighting the urge to shake his head, he blew out a frustrated breath. “If you pass the interview and blood test, then I will see to it you receive proper gear.”

She’d fisted her hands at his mention of the steps to enter the tournament, but now her face cleared and she smiled like a sunrise. “Really? You’d do that for me? You are so kind! I bet you’re really highly ranked what with your purple tassels and all. You must know High Captain Marius.” Coming close, she leaned toward him and eyed the arena. “Is he as tough as they say?”

He pressed his eyes shut. There wasn’t enough patience in the world…

A squawking sounded and suddenly a youngling dragon barreled across the arena. Ragewing launched himself toward his nephew by blood. The female Fae’s eyes widened and she ran—surprisingly quickly—toward the youngling, getting between the dragons. Marius’s heart shot into his throat and his head pounded as he sprinted to catch up.

She held out her arms and spoke up to Ragewing. “He’s not intending to threaten your rider.”

“Back away,” Marius commanded. “Ragewing, she means no harm. Back away!” he shouted at the female. “That youngling is his kin.”

The female glanced at Marius, then slowly moved away from the dragons. Ragewing loped forward and set his wing over the yowling young beast.

“Aww, look at them.” The female was grinning and had her fists tucked under her chin like she was witnessing the most wonderful thing in the world.

Ragewing licked the youngling’s head, cleaning the small dragon as if he were his own. It was rather adorable, but also dangerous.

“You could have been killed,” Marius said to the female. “That was incredibly reckless.”

“There’s no need to shout at me. I realize I made a mistake. Is this how the High Captain trains you to respond when someone is trying to help? No wonder everyone is scared of him.”

He stared, waiting for her to figure it out. She was the most infuriating person he had ever met.

Her gaze slid to the whip curled around his shoulder, then her fingers flew to her full rosy lips and her cheeks pinked.

Warmth coiled low in his body and he cleared his throat.

“Old Ones save me,” she whispered. “You are the High Captain!”

Inclining his head slightly, he glared. “Indeed.”

Shadows had bloomed across the arena, and a dark-haired, purple-skinned female leading a horse walked up to the south entrance of the arena. It was past time to finish this and get Ragewing back to his stall.

“I… I didn’t realize…” she stammered.

For the first time, she seemed at a loss for words. A miracle.

“And you are late to the sign-ups,” he said tightly. “Is that your squire? You must turn in your vial of blood immediately.”

“Thank you. Yes.” She gave him a grin and bow, then ran to meet up with the other female that he assumed was her squire. They hurried out of the arena, horse in tow.

At least she had listened to his warning about time. Foolish thing.

He ran a hand down Ragewing’s shoulder. “Surely, she won’t make it past the interview. We can’t let more of these fools enter and get themselves killed. Some just do not have the proper respect for our work…” Grumbling, he tried to focus on herding Ragewing and the youngling back toward the stables, but the female with the dark honey eyes and the pink cheeks never really left his thoughts.