Page 10

10

Rhea

A s I step outside Stonefall Castle and the night’s fresh air caresses my face, I inhale deeply, closing my eyes. Cindergrasp is dead, and I’m on my way to be chosen by my dragon. My dragon! There is a majestic creature out there, destined for me, and the thought of Cindergrasp living a life of abundance and prestige while my mother lies dead in a grave and my father withers in an old house will never weigh on me again.

The cobblestone roundabout with its fountain in the center is lined with carriages, each with corresponding elemental emblems stenciled on the doors. The Skyblaze carriage pulls up first and Prime Isolde Emberstone, Silas, and Nate climb in.

The Skysinger carriage is the fourth one and as I enter its luxurious interior, I surreptitiously pinch myself to make sure I’m not in the most wonderful dream possible. I sit on the cushioned bench, running a hand over the red velvet upholstery. Gilbert climbs in next, so I slide away from him, until my shoulder hits the opposite wall. I don’t want his stench rubbing off on me. Vaylen enters next and sits across from us, looking as fresh as he did at the beginning of the party—not a hair out of place despite our run in during the last test and the two-hour long interrogation by the Chief Inspector. He must have found his way to a mirror to make himself presentable.

For my part, I feel awful, tired to the bone, and I’m sure I don’t look fresh. In fact, if I look the way I feel, it doesn’t bode well for seducing this man. I push further into the corner to hide my face in the shadows.

Wyrm’s rot! I would endure endless drills, standing at attention for hours, and riding a cogwing at its highest setting over the torment of the last two hours. The sight of the Chief Inspector—a calculating little man with frigid blood in his veins and a set of light eyes able to dissect anyone’s soul—interrogating everyone fried my nerves. The threat of being discovered, of never making a debut in the life I so carefully crafted and worked hard to attain left me in tatters.

The ride to Sky’s Edge , where training is to take place, is over two hours, and I’m grateful for that. It’s the rest I need to recover and be ready for the last stage: meeting my dragon. I thought all my nervous energy had been spent, but at the thought, I feel a flutter in my gut.

“High Prime Stormsong, Sir,” Gilbert says after the carriage gets on its way, “you are bonded, right?”

I perk up, straightening and pulling away from the corner.

“Yes,” Vaylen answers.

“How… um… how will I know if it happens to me?” Gilbert asks.

I nearly burst out laughing. The idea that a dragon would bond with Gilbert Drifttown is just…

Goddess, the gall! The ludicrous gall!

Hells, I wouldn’t choose him even if he was the last human being on the planet, so I don’t see why one of the most magnificent creatures ever to exist would do it either. Not to mention that bonding is as rare an occurrence as a smile from my father.

I swear I would lose all faith in humankind and dragonkind if it happened.

Vaylen’s expression is inscrutable. If he thinks Gilbert’s expectation is absurd, he doesn’t show it. “You will know,” he says. “If it happens.”

“I hope to be as lucky as you, Sir.” Gilbert thumps his chest with one fist.

I roll my eyes and disguise the gesture by directing my gaze outside, to the trees that speed by as the carriage rolls toward the next phase of my life.

War awaits. Danger and hopefully glory, and along with the latter, safety and restitution for my descendants—the things that my father couldn’t provide for his family. I think of him at our small drafty home, processing useless documents for a pittance, while the rest of the time he stares into a too-dim hearth, lost in his own grief while wishing winter delays its arrival so he can save on firewood.

Perhaps if my mother had lived, I wouldn’t have minded his humble profession and income. I never seemed to notice it when she was there, when she turned garden sticks into dolls, scraps of fabric into tiny dresses, and strands from old mops into hair pieces. When she lit up the room with her smile, and the gentle touch of her hand made all bad thoughts go away.

I swallow thickly, past the aching knot in my throat. As I return to the moment, I notice Vaylen watching me. I fidget, doing my best not to blink and shed the tears that have pooled in my eyes. During my first year at Aerie Academy, I learned not to show vulnerability. For a woman living in a man’s world, crying only serves to shatter your credibility. Many think we shouldn’t be allowed in because we’re weak, and in their minds, tears only confirm their belief.

It’s nonsense.

During my training, I witnessed many men quit. Some cried, and some didn’t, but every single one of them was weaker than me.

Still, I hide my true emotions. I don’t like giving my rivals ammunition to use against me. Embernia is a cut-throat place. They say it used to be different. Before Heratrix left us and there were dragons aplenty, our realm was luscious and prosperous for everyone. I wish I’d known that place. Maybe I will one day… If, by some miracle, we find Heratrix, or if she, having deliberately abandoned us, decides to return to us again. No one knows why she’s gone. Hopefully, she’s not dead.