Page 7 of Wild Bond (Wild Bond #1)

“I think you’re ready to start training in weapons and hand-to-hand with trainees of your same age.”

It was a week later during my training session with Dembe that he made this declaration. I blinked in surprise, lowering the canteen from which I had just taken a drink.

But he continued without a response from me. “Obviously, they all have been training for several years, so you will most likely be behind. But you are not without skill, and though it will be challenging, I think in time you will rise to their level.”

“Wow, thank you so much for that glowing assessment of my abilities,” I commented dryly. “Don’t try to spare my feelings.”

He just looked at me. “I won’t.”

I snorted and took another drink. Skye was lazing in the sun off to the side of the practice field, and I could feel her amusement in the bond as well. She liked Dembe. She was in her natural form today and was garnering plenty of stares from the other trainees nearby.

“Your skill with daggers is unmatched,” Dembe said. “Or at least, it will be when you are at full strength, and your hand-to-hand skills are passable. You have a good foundation, at least. I believe training with the group you would have been with, had you bonded to Skye at a younger age, will be beneficial to you. It’s where you need to be.” He regarded me closely. “And getting to know some of the other trainees wouldn’t hurt, either.”

He wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t really been making an effort to meet the other trainees, aside from those in my hatchling class, as I now thought of it in my head.

“So, we will no longer train together?” I felt a small pang of regret at the thought.

That now familiar wide smile broke across his face. “No, we can still spar in the mornings, if you wish.”

I smiled back at him in relief. “I wish.”

He nodded. “Very well, then.” He gestured to the northern part of the training field. “They meet over there after lunch. You can start this afternoon.”

“Any words of advice?”

He regarded me for a moment, his tone surprisingly serious as he answered, “Don’t show any weakness. You have yet to prove yourself, and most of them have been training together for years. They don’t know you . . . and your untraditional beginning has already made you stand out, which isn’t necessarily a good thing.”

I nodded, trying to absorb what he was and wasn’t saying.

“It will be hard, and they will push you, but it will be worth it and help you become a better rider in the end,” he finished.

“Can’t you just wish me luck?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood a little.

He grinned and replied, “You don’t need luck if you have skill.”

I hoped he was right.

Later that day, I said goodbye to Skye as she flew off—Dembe had told me that I wouldn’t need her for this class—and made my way onto the practice field Dembe had pointed out earlier. There were already several other trainees there—waiting for our instructor I assumed—for I saw no one in the black training leathers of a rider.

There were about a dozen of them, a mix of men and women around my age, give or take a few years. And they were all regarding me with expressions ranging from calm disinterest to open hostility.

The hostility coming from one woman in particular caught my attention. She had a perfect statuesque figure and long dark hair that was pulled back from her pretty face. She watched my approach as if I had personally offended her with my presence alone. She didn’t say anything to me, but she did lean over to two girls beside her, who looked at me and laughed at whatever she’d said.

As I came to a halt on the edge of the group, I did recognize one face. Nesenya, the trainee who had escorted me—or at least attempted to escort me to the Exodus Ball, before we were waylaid by Councilor Varron—was standing off to the side as well. She regarded me with no emotion on her face as I gave her a small nod in greeting. Her expression didn’t change. So much for making a friend.

“What are you doing here?” a big male trainee with a shock of brown hair and broad features demanded. The guy was massive and definitely looked like he never missed a meal. Though I could tell most of what was under his training leathers was pure muscle. “This combat class is for experienced trainees. We’re all prospects for the trials. Shouldn’t you be in one of the novice classes with the hatchlings?”

I smiled sweetly at him, trying not to react to his antagonism, though I think my tone still came out like I was speaking to a small child. “I am in a class with the hatchlings, but Commander Matara also wants me in this class.” I raised my arms. “So here I am.”

Surprise filtered across his face. “Why? Is he trying to get rid of you? You can’t possibly hold your own against us.”

I shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him.”

His face hardened further. “You may have bonded with the Jade Dragon,” he snapped, “but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be here.”

I opened my mouth to respond, then shut it again. The big trainee was right in a way. Just because I had bonded with Skye didn’t mean I automatically had a right to be here. I had to earn that right and my fellow trainees’ respect. From the looks on most of their faces, I could see I had a long way to go in that regard.

“You’re right,” I admitted honestly. “I don’t.”

Again, I could see that my response had surprised him, and a few of the others, if their expressions were anything to go by.

I shrugged again. “But I am here, and I had as little say in that as you did. So, if you have a problem with it, take it up with the commander, the council, or the Nine themselves. I don’t care. Or just leave me alone, because I’m staying.” Not that Commander Rakim had shown any interest in training me since the night of the Exodus Ball. He had yet to contact me about a flying lesson.

The trainee stared at me as if trying to work out how to respond.

“So, are we done?” I asked, intentionally putting some steel into my voice and a warning in my gaze. I knew I had to earn these people’s respect, but being a pushover was not an option.

The trainee opened his mouth, but before he spoke, a harsh voice ordered, “Warran, enough!”

I looked to the rider whom I guessed was our instructor as he strode up. He was a burly man with brown hair and a slightly graying beard. He was tall, but not quite as tall as Dembe or Commander Rakim.

He looked like he could be related to Warran. Or maybe I just wasn’t used to being around all these huge, physically fit dragon rider types yet. Most of the men in my life up until this point were half-starved street kids with lean builds and lots of wiry muscle, with the occasional overweight drunk thrown in.

“Pair off,” he commanded, acknowledging me with a nod as he passed. I couldn’t tell if he was against my being here, or if he was just more focused on directing the class. “No weapons today. We will be focusing on hand-to-hand, particularly on taking down your opponent. So spread out and give yourselves plenty of room to maneuver.”

As everyone spread out and found partners, I was left standing there awkwardly for a moment before another trainee came to stand beside me.

“Want to pair up?” he asked. He was of medium height and build with pale skin and dark hair clipped close to his head. His brown eyes slanted downward slightly at the corners and his smile was hesitant.

“Sure,” I replied, deciding to just go with it and not be so suspicious. “I’m Rin, by the way.”

His smile widened. “I know. I’m Con.” He gestured across the group of milling trainees to our teacher. “And that man over there is Rider Trenton. Don’t take anything he does personally. He’s been our combat instructor for the past three years, and I think he’s said ten words to me that weren’t commands.”

“Good to know,” I murmured, relaxing a little.

Both of us faced each other and took up a ready stance.

Trenton called for us to start, and Con came at me. He had me down on the ground in a matter of moments. I sighed as he pulled me to my feet, having a premonition that this was going to be a long day.

Over the next hour, I was proven right as we rotated sparring partners. I held my own with some, barely, and got thoroughly beaten by others. Con went easy on me compared to everyone else. I tried and failed to use Warran’s superior strength against him, and Nesenya had me on the ground within seconds. Repeatedly. The woman was fast and didn’t give away her moves at all, which made it hard to defend myself.

I knew that some of the reason I was having such a hard time was due to not being at full strength yet, and the fact that I currently felt like a walking bruise. But deep down I knew most of these trainees were just better, more skilled fighters—at least when it came to hand-to-hand—and that knowledge irked me to no end. I knew that most of them had been formally trained since they were young, having probably already bonded to their dragons when I was still living in a hut with my mother. But I still hated that I wasn’t as skilled.

It all made me want to train that much harder.

Unfortunately, my next partner was the dark-haired girl from before, who already seemed to dislike me. Her name, I found out, was Daisha.

She, of course, was an incredible fighter. I realized this after only a few minutes of exchanging blows. She was vicious and took advantage of even the smallest opening. I was exhausted and breathing hard. Sweat dripped down my back and at my temples from both the exertion and the blistering heat of the afternoon sun bearing down on us.

I blocked a particularly brutal strike intended for my face but wasn’t quick enough to avoid her follow-up to my jaw that had me seeing spots and made my ears ring. I took a step back to get my bearings, still keeping my guard up, but I felt disoriented and sluggish as she came at me again. Before I knew it, she had me pinned on the hard ground, the full weight of her body hunched over mine.

“Obviously, Commander Matara was wrong about you,” she hissed, pressing down hard with her forearm against my throat. She stared me straight in the eye. “Go back to the lower city slum where you belong, or better yet, the dungeons. The dragon rider ranks are no place for thieving scum like you.”

A little sliver of doubt flared inside me. When I’d first bonded, I’d also wondered if someone from my upbringing deserved to bond with a dragon and become a dragon rider. But the thought was quickly doused by a spark of crackling anger and frustration that this woman thought she had the right to judge me. And by the fact that I knew Dembe would be disgusted at the dismal performance I had put on today.

Deciding to use my sudden spark of energy, and banking on her overconfidence, I shifted my hips. Then in a single motion, I grasped her elbow and shoved it to the side using the momentum and my remaining upper body strength to roll us until I was the one pinning her to the ground. I grinned savagely down at the shocked look on her face before I followed it up with a solid jab to her throat.

She gagged and wheezed, and I made to move away when she shifted her legs throwing me off her and onto my back. I gasped in pain and heard several of my new classmates chuckle.

I stared up at the blue sky for an instant before a shadow fell over me. Daisha’s striking face, now contorted with rage, glared down at me. “Like I said,” she seethed. “You don’t belong here.” She glowered at me one last time before moving away.

I hastily got to my feet, knowing I needed to be ready to face my next opponent. I tried valiantly to ignore the sharp pain in my back, and along my shoulders and left hip as I stepped forward.

Mercifully, Trenton called a short water break, and I collapsed down next to Con. He was the only one who hadn’t pummeled me ruthlessly into the ground when it was his turn to spar with me.

I groaned as I leaned back on my elbows. “Realms, everything hurts,” I complained.

Con winced in sympathy. “They haven’t been pulling any punches, have they?”

I sighed. No, they had not. But then again, I didn’t expect or want them to.

“That Daisha girl, though, what dragon dung did she step in this morning? She has to be a descendant. Only one of those inbred, self-important bastards would be so put out by the fact that I was from the lower city.”

Con went silent beside me, and I glanced at him. A prickling suspicion entered my mind.

“You’re a descendant, aren’t you?”

He nodded sheepishly and I groaned.

Descendant was the term used for people whose bloodline had produced dragon riders for several generations without fail. Because of this, they were usually wealthy and in prestigious positions in society, even if they weren’t dragon riders themselves.

“And it gets worse . . .” he hedged.

I stared at him and sighed in defeat. “She’s your sister, isn’t she?”

He nodded with a smirk. “That she is.”

“Curse the Nine and all their followers!” I swore under my breath. “I’m sorry.”

Con chuckled.

I dropped down to lie completely on my back, slinging my arm over my eyes in embarrassment.

He chuckled again. “It’s fine. Daisha can be hard to take, but we Varrons aren’t all bad.”

“Wait.” I sat up. “Did you say Varron? Like Councilor Varron? He’s your father?”

Con sighed. “Yes. I see you’ve already met.”

“Only briefly when he dragged me before the entire council and accused my bond with Skye of being fake.”

Con winced. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t sound out of character for him.”

I wanted to ask how someone like him could belong to the same family as Varron and Daisha but knew that would be incredibly rude, so I bit my tongue.

“My mother’s nice though,” he joked, and we both laughed as some of the awkwardness eased.

It was quiet as we both drank from canteens, then I ventured, “So what did you do, then?”

He stared at me in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You’re descended from a rider family, you’re nice, and your sister doesn’t seem to be hurting for friends,” I gestured to where she sat laughing with Warran and the same two girls from before. “So, I know it can’t be that they hold a grudge against your family. I know why they hate me, but what did you do to earn their disapproval?” I didn’t say it, but I had noticed during the lesson how most of them had all looked at him like he was dirt on the bottom of their shoe.

His easygoing manner suddenly became very subdued. When he spoke, his words were filled with resentment and ill-concealed pain. “I had the audacity to fail the trials.”

“I-I didn’t know you could do that,” I stammered, not sure what my face was doing. I could tell this fact was distressing to him, but I didn’t have the faintest clue why. I didn’t even know what the trials were, other than that Nesenya had mentioned them once.

He glanced at me, and he must have seen the confusion on my face, because his expression instantly lightened. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?”

I sighed and shook my head. “In my defense, it’s not like you dragon riders are exactly forthcoming with your secrets.”

Con smiled and stretched out his legs. “The trials are the two challenges, or I suppose you could call them tests, that trainees have to pass to become full-fledged dragon riders. The trials themselves and what they are exactly are kept secret, even from trainees. Riders are forbidden to speak of them afterward to anyone outside of other riders.”

I raised my brows. I hadn’t known any of that. My stomach clenched at the thought of having to pass some secret test. I stared back at him. “So, then you know what they are?”

“I failed the First Trial,” he said. “So, I only know what that one entails.”

“When are they?” I asked.

“The trials are held every three years, and the next ones are during midsummer. They are held at Three Points, a place you can only get to on dragonback, and only riders know how to find.”

“That’s less than four months away,” I observed.

He nodded, and there was an excited gleam in his eyes. No doubt he was eager for another chance to prove himself and pass the trials, especially if the other trainees and riders had been treating him like this ever since he failed them nearly three years ago.

“So, what did Warran mean when he said you were all prospects for the trials?”

“He means that everyone in this group make up the oldest and most experienced trainees in Baldor. We’re prospects to become riders and will represent Baldor in the trials.”

“Represent Baldor?”

“It’s not only Baldorians who participate in the trials,” he explained. “Prospective riders from Halmar and Zehvi come to the trials as well.”

I was willing to bet that was interesting, especially with the tensions between Zehvi and Baldor.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to worry about that, though. I doubted I would be ready to compete in the trials for several years yet.