Page 53 of Veiled Flames (Destiny of Dragons #1)

Thirty-Eight

Saxon

“ I t’s cruel to let her continue,” I reason with Treacher and Roule. “Tantamount to a death sentence.”

“Many candidates die at camp,” Treacher replies blankly. I can’t believe he’s even considering this. He was the first to call for her exile.

I’m glad I wasn’t the one to reveal Rosomon’s secret, but I’m glad that it’s out. Glad she has a chance of survival. I didn’t expect an argument with my fellow dragon masters about whether to let her continue.

“Certainly, many candidates die at camp.” I argue against Treacher’s reasoning. “But there is an upside to the risks the men take. Should they succeed, they become riders. We know the princess can never do that, so what’s the point of risking her life?”

My heart is thumping far too loudly, and I fight to maintain the outward appearance of calmness. No one can know how much I care about this. Care about Rosomon.

“Over history, has a female ever made an attempt?” Treacher asks Roule.

“No attempts have been documented,” Roule replies. “Not in the archive’s records.” He takes a step back. “I should consult the klericks.”

“No!” Treacher and I shout together.

“This is a matter for we dragon masters,” I add.

Treacher smirks at me. “This imposter is a princess. She’s of royal blood. How do you know she’s not your precious chosen one ?” He says the words with blatant mocking. He’s being argumentative to vex me. There’s no chance Treacher supports this.

“You know full well that’s absurd.” I swallow my anxiety. “Women are too small, too weak to bond with dragons, their bodies ill equipped to mount or survive the knotting.”

“Rosomon isn’t weak,” Tynan pipes up from behind me. I’d forgotten he was still here. “She’s exceptionally strong and skilled for a girl. Thrix, she had us all fooled into thinking she was a boy.”

“Leave us.” I glare at the young prince. “You have no say in this.” Tynan has done enough damage.

“Why should he leave?” Treacher spreads his legs. “Tynan bonded with a dragon today. A very large dragon. I, for one, value his opinion on this matter.”

The smug look on Tynan’s face crawls under my skin. I’ve tried my best with this kid, and it’s paid off in some ways, but his opinion of himself is still far too high. And he’s still too quick to anger.

Plus… I admit it nearly killed me when I saw him kiss Rosomon.

A dragon’s screech fills the air. Alexandre, on Thraxal, rapidly descends, landing so close to where the four of us are standing that dirt flies up in our faces.

“There’s been a rupture,” Alexandre shouts. “Come quickly.”

“Where are the others?” I ask, but Treacher and Roule are already running toward their mounts.

Tynan runs too, but I catch up with him and grab his shoulder to stop him. “Wait here,” I say firmly. “When we return, we’ll show you where to house your dragon.”

“His name is Xendus.” Tynan raises his chin. “And with all due respect, sir , there is no thrixing way I’m staying here on the ground.”

I fail to see an ounce of respect in his words but have no time to argue.

Energy and misplaced bravado waft off the young prince.

This is too soon. Far too soon. I admire his bravery, but bravery without intelligence and caution is foolish.

The reckless boy is overestimating his abilities and underestimating our foe.

We could lose our newest rider on his first day.

“Stay well behind.” There’s no time to fight him and no way to keep him off his dragon. “Observe only. Do not engage any demons.”

I have no grounds to keep him back. He’ll soon be assigned to observe such a mission. Still, I fear for his life. And in spite of his brash demeanor and our clashing personalities, I have high hopes for Prince Tynan. Since I was named master, Tynan is the first royal to bond with a dragon.

We rush to our respective beasts and use the climbing ropes to mount. Surath is at least five spans shorter than Xendus, and while size isn’t the main factor in determining the battle effectiveness of a dragon, I know Tynan will gloat about the size of his match whenever he gets the chance.

“Observe only!” I shout toward Tynan, but I’m not certain he hears. Our dragons’ wings beat, as we seat ourselves on their saddles.

Surath is agitated. She turns her head toward Xendus. He roars and sends a long stream of fire into the air. On his back, Tynan’s eyes widen, but he holds on, looking as determined as ever to fly into battle.

Surath takes off, as does Xendus behind us.

The ruptures in the veil have become bigger and more frequent.

More and more demons pour from the Darkness and into the Light.

So far, we’ve slain every invading creature, but unless we increase our ranks, or determine what’s causing the veil to fail so often, the demons might soon become too numerous to contain.

And if any should get past us and reach a defenseless soul…

Leaning toward Surath’s neck, I urge her forward. The other two dragons are well ahead, and I check to confirm that Tynan is following.

Now that we are flying, Surath has calmed down, and I sense something different in her today. It’s impossible to be certain, or even describe why I suspect this, but it seems as if she’s communicating right now, but not with me.

Roule has long speculated that our dragons are able to talk to each other, at least when both beasts are mounted. But no one has been able to verify his incredulous theory. It’s true that dragons can’t see much without a rider, perhaps they can’t properly communicate unless mounted either.

We round the edge of Draconveil Peak, and my heart nearly stops.

The rupture in the veil is the largest yet. Gray light oozes through, almost as if the color in our world is being sucked out through the gap, and hundreds of demons swarm through.

Turning back toward Xendus and Tynan, I hold up my hand in warning, commanding him to stop. I can’t lose the only possible candidate I’ve found who might fulfill the prophecies.