Page 2 of Wild Bond (Wild Bond #1)

I was vaguely aware of being unlocked from the other prisoners and my feet moving me to stand before the dais. I barely heard the murmurs flying all around me as those watching realized I was a woman.

My hands shook violently in my restraints, causing the chains to clank together as I tried to rid myself of the fear that had overtaken me at the abrupt and brutal death I had just witnessed. My face still felt tight from being so close to the flames, and I couldn’t help but glance down at the burn mark in the tile not two feet in front of me. I fought the urge to rub at the scar on my arm.

Not that the despicable man deserved any less but . . . But now I was the one standing here and it was suddenly very hard to take a deep breath. I could feel the all too familiar panic start to tighten in my chest; a panic I hadn’t dealt with in years, not since I was a child. It felt as if I was right back there, alone, afraid, trying to survive on the street in those difficult first weeks after my mother died.

The steward asked me a question, but there was thunder in my ears and I couldn’t think couldn’t—

A distant, enraged roar split the air. It came from the direction of the Nest, the arena across the upper city where the bondings were currently taking place.

My head jerked toward the haunting sound. Strangely, the panic that had been choking me receded. The roar had provided exactly the distraction I needed to snap out of the horrible spiral. I couldn’t imagine what would cause the beast to make such a sound, but I felt a strange pull to find out. I took an involuntary step towards it before I caught myself.

I grasped my shaking hands tightly together and squared my shoulders before finally looking up to the steward. He appeared to be slightly unsettled as well but hid it quickly and resumed what he had been asking before the disturbance.

“You have been a prisoner in Graystone Keep for two years?” It was clear by his tone this was not the first time he was asking the question.

“I have,” I confirmed, clearing my throat. I knew it would probably be in my best interest to appear pitiful and contrite in order to gain sympathy, but I was standing before a dragon and a dragon rider, and it went against every instinct I had to be seen as fragile.

“You stand convicted of theft of Her Majesty’s personal property and resisting arrest. Did you commit these crimes?”

Whispers ran rampant through the onlookers.

I was tempted to blurt out the truth; that my only real crime was trying to stop a friend from doing something foolish. I knew they would just think I was lying, though. After all, I wasn’t an innocent. I’d committed plenty of crimes throughout my twenty years, luckily the stuffy steward didn’t appear to have any of those on his little parchment. Thank the Gray Gods. So, all I said was, “I did.”

His expression soured at my admission.

“What exactly did you steal from the queen?” This question asked by Commander Rakim.

I could feel the eyes of the rider and his dragon on me like hot coals against my skin. Since he had asked me the question, I couldn’t very well keep pretending he wasn’t there. I finally dared look at him and immediately felt snared by his gaze. With how closely he was studying me, I knew he could not have missed my panic earlier.

I took a deep breath and sighed as I answered, “Lethara’s Blade.”

Gasps rang out as well as cries of outrage and shock.

I cringed inwardly, knowing I had probably just signed my death warrant. But I knew that’s what it said on that blasted piece of parchment, so there was no point in lying.

The ancient weapon was an heirloom of Palasia, not just the royal family of Baldor. Queen Lethara was the first dragon rider and had used that very sword to unite all riders ages ago when Palasia was still one kingdom. Admitting to stealing it was like saying I had tried to steal Dragon Spear itself.

My fellow Baldorians were definitely in a less forgiving state now, and I could feel the wave of animosity coming off the crowd. I could not tell how the commander felt about my answer, though. His face was a blank mask once more.

“Why?” he asked in that same calm tone.

I thought up and discarded several responses. Eventually, I settled on the truth, or at least part of it. The only part I was willing to share, anyway.

“I had no other choice.”

Truth rang in every word, and I could see the rider heard it. He leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, long fingers steepled in thought as he continued to regard me.

“It also says here,” the steward interjected, “that you have attempted to escape on multiple occasions since your arrest.”

“Well, I—”

“It’s true, your Honor!” Holt cut in as he strode forward, speaking for the first time since entering the square. “She’s tried to escape several times and almost did once. Nearly killed me in the process, she did.” He gestured to the scar on his face as proof.

“That’s a lie,” I seethed, angry this bullying idiot was choosing now, when my life was on the line, to air his grudge. “That lantern barely grazed you. Quit whining about it.”

Rage mottled his face and in the next instant his meaty fist connected with my cheek.

I cried out and dropped to the ground as agony lanced through my skull. My cheekbone was on fire and my right eye throbbed, making my vision blur and darken.

“You worthless—” Holt began.

“Touch her again and you’ll be dead before your next breath,” Commander Rakim’s threatening voice warned, sounding much closer.

I blinked through the pain and saw the dragon rider was no longer standing on the platform but was instead a few feet away from me holding a sword to Holt’s throat.

Holt’s face was ashen, and his voice trembled with a healthy dose of fear as he blubbered out, “Yes . . . Rider, sir . . . right, of course I won’t—”

A deafening shriek rent the sky around us, and a startled cry rose from the crowd. Holt and Rakim backed out of the way just as a dragon landed before me with such force that the ground trembled.

How hard had Holt hit me? I had to be hallucinating.

That was the only explanation as to how a dragon was currently crouched protectively in front of me, it’s big body perpendicular to where I still lay on my side on the ground, blocking my view. I watched in disbelief as the dragon raised her serpentine head and trumpeted a warning throughout the square.

The dragon was obviously female. She had no horns on her head, and she was smaller, more sleekly built than a bulkier male. Though I suppose smaller was a relative term, because her long neck was the size of a tree trunk, and her claws were the size of daggers. She was probably about two thirds the size of Naasir if I had to guess.

Her scales ranged from a pale jade that was almost white at her tail to a darker, dusky gray green under her belly and at her feet and snout. The color was almost opalescent and shimmered faintly in the sunlight as she moved. Her wings were still partially extended, like a bird of prey ready for flight. They were lighter at the top and faded to a darker green at the base.

Something about her seemed familiar, but my mind couldn’t place it. Then I heard it being whispered reverently over the crowd.

The Jade Dragon.

My still fuzzy mind refused to accept it. The Jade Dragon? She was one of the most famous wild dragons in Baldor. While most dragons didn’t have names except for those given to them by their rider, the Jade Dragon was so well-known that she’d gained the nickname years ago. Most dragons who answered The Call and came to a Nest found their rider and were bonded within that same three-day celebration. Occasionally a dragon that didn’t find their rider would return the following year, but that was rare. Dragons usually stopped answering The Call once they reached maturity. The Jade Dragon, however, had first appeared in Dessin during the Bonding Celebrations about a decade ago, still young but already fully grown. She landed in the Nest, causing quite the stir thanks to her age and unique coloring, sat there for the entire three days as hopeful children and even some adults were paraded in front of her, but showed no interest in any of them. She had returned every year since, waiting for her rider.

And now here she was. Standing almost close enough to touch.

The dragoness was clearly agitated as she hissed and snarled in the direction of the dais, her tail lashing angrily back and forth.

Naasir growled in answer, and I was no expert on dragons, but I could have sworn he sounded confused or even surprised rather than angry. I could also hear the chirping cries from the other dragons in their minor forms from where they sat with their riders on the side of the dais. A few of the dragon riders were now on their feet as well.

Deciding the female was distracted enough with her attention focused elsewhere, I scrambled to my feet. Despite the throbbing pain in my head, I began to shuffle backwards as I tried to put as much distance between myself and the volatile dragon as possible.

At my sudden movement, her long triangular head whipped around, and I met her gaze for the first time. Her wide, slitted eyes were a startling emerald green and stared at me with a sharp, keen intensity I didn’t understand.

I put my hands up in a placating gesture and continued to step backward toward the large statue several yards behind me.

Her eyes took in my hands, her head quirking to the side. Then she did something that surprised me. She lowered her head and emitted a soft chuffing sound, her entire demeanor changing as she began prowling toward me.

A quick glance around told me that no one was stepping in to help. Everyone seemed to be watching in a kind of shocked, morbid fascination. Even Naasir and Rakim looked intent to watch this play out.

I suppose I was just a low-life criminal to them. Who cared if the legendary Jade Dragon decided to eat me?

My attention returned to said dragon as my back came in contact with the base of the statue, and my hands moved to press against it. The blood was rushing through my veins, and my breath came out harsh and ragged.

Her large head was nearly as big as I was, and it was mere feet from me now. A whine caught in her throat, as if she sensed my distress and didn’t like it, or perhaps wanted to comfort me. But that couldn’t be right. Why would she care? Why was she even here to begin with?

My mind raced, but I couldn’t put it together. Nothing about this moment made sense. And why did I feel this inexplicable pull towards her? Something in my chest ached, a yearning I couldn’t explain.

I caught a whiff of her scent, a soothing mixture of smoke and pine. Her emerald eyes and pale green scales were all I could see as her head lowered slightly, now level with mine. She was so near her warm breath tickled across my skin. And as I stared into her bright, intelligent eyes, all my fear and uncertainty drained away. My awareness of my surroundings faded—the crowd, the heat, the throbbing ache in my cheek—nothing else mattered but the dragon before me.

A low humming note resounded in my ears, and then she closed her eyes, lowered her snout to my ripped shirt, and touched the exposed skin directly over my heart.

A brief white-hot pain branded itself into my chest, but then the pain was gone as quickly as it had come, and she drew away. I was startled to feel as if an invisible tether reached from the spot on my chest toward the animal before me. It was reminiscent of the strange pull I had felt only moments before, but much stronger.

An overwhelming surge of emotions bombarded me all at once; joy, excitement, triumph, relief, a fierce possessiveness, and a sense of love so strong that it stole my breath and brought tears to my eyes.

But the emotions weren’t mine. They were coming from . . . the dragon.

How was this possible? I could feel her ecstatic happiness as she bellowed it to the sky in a short burst of flame.

Had she just— No. I refused to even consider the possibility. I was no one special. I was a thief . . . a nobody. And I was too old anyway. No one bonded with a dragon at my age. I wasn’t a child. This couldn’t be real.

But I could feel her—the dragon—in my head, or maybe it was my heart. The connection was faint and new, but it was there.

I took several steps away from the statue and tentatively reached out a hand to her. She lowered her head once more so I could caress her snout. Her skin was warm, the scales hard and bumpy, yet still smooth. Contentment swept over me, and I knew this time the emotion came from me as well as the dragon.

I was trying to wrap my mind around what this all meant when I noticed a rider had broken away from the group beside the dais and now stood by Rakim. He was a large dark-skinned man with broad features and a head that was shaved completely bald and gleamed in the sun. I quickly recognized him as Dembe Matara, second in command to Commander Rakim. He was somewhat older than Rakim and was rather handsome. A deep orange dragon in its minor form sat on his shoulder, staring curiously in our direction.

The female dragon noticed the other dragon’s attention and growled a warning. To my astonishment, she stepped partially over me, her forelegs on either side of me and my head just scraping her chest.

The other dragon didn’t react at all.

Rider Matara spoke in low tones to his leader as Rakim covered the stone at his neck so they would not be overheard.

The image of the tiger returned to my mind as I observed the pair, and a sense of agreement came from the dragon above me.

I realized with a start that the female dragon had seen the image in my mind. I searched the feeling and saw she labeled the commander as a predator, a threat . . . and she wasn’t wrong. But mostly, she seemed concerned that he was here to take me away from her, and she refused to allow that.

I had been so immersed in my own thoughts and emotions, and those of the dragon above me, that I failed to notice a heated discussion had broken out amongst the dragon riders. The commander and his second had now been joined by a half dozen other riders. I knew they were discussing me, some rather animatedly. One older rider dressed in deep blue dragonscale armor appeared especially irritated. Their dragons looked like colorful birds flitting around their heads in agitation as they remained in their minor forms. I had no idea where Holt and the remaining prisoners had gone.

I knew my fate was probably being decided at that very moment, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying and, once again, I found I had a hard time caring.

My headache had gotten worse, my face hurt, and I was so hot that I had begun to feel nauseous. I knew if I had anything in my stomach, I would have already thrown it up by now. I glanced down. My hands were shaking again and at some point, I had fallen to my knees.

That was good. I was so tired. I didn’t think I could stand much longer anyway.

I looked up again to see that Commander Rakim was not taking part in the discussion. His eyes were on me, and they glowed with an icy unreadable fire.

He doesn’t know what’s happening either, I thought. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I found that hilarious, and felt a small smile curve my lips.

Then I fell forward in a dead faint.

The last thing I heard before darkness claimed me was a man’s sharp yell and the enraged, distressed cry of a dragon.