Page 38 of Forcing Fate

I forced myself to my feet and smoothed out my filthy dress. “Good Day, Willhelm.”

“Should I ask what you were doing on the ground?” His voice held a tentative edge as he eyed me up and down.

“Resting. It’s been quite a day.”

“I gathered. The men have been talking.” He frowned as we turned for the road.

I glanced at the soldiers walking about. General Rafe worked them hard. I was surprised they had it in them to gossip already.

“What have they been saying?”

“That either you or the General are going to lose it and someone is going to have to defend your honor.”

I tilted my head back and laughed. “They’re only worried about their own hides!”

“They wouldn’t stand a chance against him, you know.”

“Yes, I know. But I want you to know I’ll not call on anyone to defend my impugned honor.” I rolled my eyes. “I can defend it well enough on my own.”

“Much in the way you mended that tunic?” he asked, jutting his chin toward the bundle in my hands.

I smirked. “Much like that. I might be a woman, but I have my ways.”

Willhelm grunted and eyed me before his attention returned to the path ahead. I started up a festive tune as we walked along.

After a moment, he spoke again, “I take it today went well?”

I smiled up at him and told him all about my day and its adventures.

After I finished last meal, I found Master Elenor, and was disheartened to learn there were no jobs yet. I made my way below the school dorms, sandals flapping against my feet. The fastening strap finally broke and my toes curled on my right foot, trying to hold it in place. My filthy beige dress was tucked under my arm, as well as my sleeping shift and clean under-breeches. This dress needed a thorough washing, and so did I.

As I padded down the winding stairs to the underground springs, I watched my footing by the torchlight. I ran my hand along the wall, not that there would be anything to hold if I fell. Humidity thickened the air the further I descended. It often made the stairway slick, despite how hard the maids worked to keep it clean and dry.

This stairwell adjoined the women’s side of the dorms. It was spacious enough for a human. There were other separate springs with passages large enough to be accessed by the dragons that lived in the canyon. This one, though, was used strictly by women for their laundry and bathing.

Finally clearing the stairwell, I entered the expansive opening where women bustled to and fro, finishing their laundry for the day. They scurried about, washing and gossiping—a happy thrum of souls.

An entryway to my left led to the washing rooms. To the right was a chamber that somehow had a constant breeze. It had something to do with where a natural cave opened, allowing fresh air through to the chamber. However it worked, it allowed the rows of laundry to dry quickly.

I continued to the room on the right, following a woman with an armful of barracks’ laundry. The stench was foul. I wrinkled my nose and grabbed a bar of soap off a nearby supply table before pressing on.

All around me, women talked about their days, their hopes, and dreams, and their plans for the future. I frowned. They had each other to share their aspirations with, but I had no one. Willhelm and I were friends, but I couldn’t imagine telling him everything.

I crossed to an empty spot near a hot spring and settled down to wash my muddied dress. After setting my spare clothes on a dry slab, I pushed the dress under the warm water and set to scrubbing, listening to the women as I worked.

A pair washing their garments beside me spoke of a farmer one had met and how she swooned over him. If I ever swooned over a man, I wouldn’t be able to tell Willhelm. We would never be that close. He was a man—and much older than I. He’d likely look at me in disgust if I ever managed to swoon over a boy.

I had never been friends with anyone, really. Though, I remembered playing with kids when I lived back in the village with my mother, but I couldn’t recall their names or what they looked like. When I was sent here, everything was too new and my pain was too fresh to make friends. All the girls my age were nursing their own wounds from the loss of a parent or loved one. Some bonded over mutual losses, and some even came from the same raided villages. Most girls created friendships a few years after they arrived, but not me.

Alone, I withdrew and applied myself to learning and books. I practically lived in the Records Room before I took on the assignment of Masters’ assistant. I was the odd one, and I was easily ignored.

Most students ignored me, most women tolerated me, and the older women taught me. I went without notice—until I was announced as First Chosen for Hatching Day. That got people’s attention, though it was not a surprise. The process of selecting the First Chosen was not based on favoritism. It was based on your marks from testing and your aptitude.

Dragons could not speak to anyone that was not their Rider, yet they could feel an openness, like a beckoning, in some people. This opening, this calling, we referred to as aptitude. It was what many speculated the hatchlings latched onto for the bond. It was as if there were two lands welcome to each other, but no bridge to join them. On Hatching Day, that bridge was made, and the bond solidified.

The emptiness I felt would one day be resolved with a dragonling. I didn’t need human companionship. I only needed an egg to hatch for me in a few months.

I stood, wringing out my dress and checking it over. My fingers ached from scrubbing out the grass stains I gained from my venture into the woods during midday meal, but it seemed as if the pain was worth the effort.

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