Page 2 of Forcing Fate

The whole crowd cheered, sure that the young dragon would join its Rider, the one whom it would share its life bond with. Excitement thrummed throughout the arena, and the dragons on the roof howled their joy.

Then the small dragon roared.

Silence fell like a stone, sudden and complete. The crowd, who had been on their feet, fists in the air, cheering, froze. Horrified expressions passed over their faces, distorting their joyous celebration. The dragons arched their necks, looking down at the little one in puzzlement.

For that roar was not one of acceptance.

The dragonling crouched, flicking out its tongue, its burning gaze locked on the dragonless Rider. Its claws kneaded the sand and its tail whipped from side to side as sporadic hisses slipped past its lips.

Other dragonlings looked on from shoulders, laps, and between the legs of their Riders, heads tilted with confusion. A white dragonling with a sheen of blue, like a precious pearl, cooed to the solitary dragon in the middle of the empty eggs. Its Rider gripped it closer to his chest, as if worried it would mirror the lone creature’s ferocity.

In response, the small beast spun and snapped its teeth at the pearl-colored hatchling. Its Rider recoiled in horror. Palms were lifted, covering mouths to stifle gasps as an air of trepidation hung heavy in the amphitheater.

The dragonless Rider took a careful step forward with placating hands outstretched toward the unruly creature. It whirled again to face him with a hiss. It dropped its head and pulled its lips back, baring teeth sharp enough to sever a limb.

The Dragon Man hesitated, a wrinkle forming between his brows.

The dragonling was refusing him. Spurning the bond. Denying the blood-magic treaty of the Alliance of Men and Dragons. This was not a choice that was thought, planned, and executed. These eggs were bred and laid for the next generation of Dragon Men. It bound them to men. To share their lives and blood-magic with the Riders who would care for them and be their ultimate companions.

The treaty’s magic had never failed.

Yet, here was this small dragonling, roaring in defiance at its would-be Rider.

A woeful keening rang from the rooftops—the bone-chilling cry of a dragon weeping. Dragons keened during times of immense grief. When their Riders died, or another of their kind passed the Veil. Yet together, the dragons encircling the amphitheater joined the sorrowful lamentations for the little one. It would not know the love and connection shared in the bond. It would never know the joy of growing old with its Rider, never have a companion to share in adventures. The dragons deemed the little hatchling lost.

A deep, resounding roar cut off the mournful song. The great purple dragon, which had seemed so eager for the eggs to hatch earlier, snapped her teeth at the other dragons. The tiles of the roof cracked under the crush of her claws, sending shards of tile falling into the crowd below. Her Rider stepped back, giving her the space she demanded as she launched herself off the precipice. Those gathered below shrieked as the beast descended. Her heavy wings beat the air, flying above the heads of the onlookers. Dozens screamed, their fear rampant, as her claws and tail flew past heads, angling herself toward the defiant hatchling, seeking a place to land.

The dragonling brought itself upright, in a defensive pose. A second ground-shaking roar sent hatchlings cowering, and their Riders shirking back, covering their ears. They scattered from their circle until only the dragonless Rider remained.

Her weight shook the earth as the dragon landed roughly, planting her feet around the golden-eyed hatchling. It looked up at her with large trusting eyes and backed away from the Rider, ducking under her belly.

Bending low to coo at the dragonling and nuzzle it in assurance, her lavender eyes flashed in warning. When she raised her horned head, she snorted at the dragonless man, enveloping him in a cloud of sulfur. He backed away, shaking his head and blinking the dust from his eyes.

Two Masters stepped from the shadows, nearing the trio with heavy frowns. They stood by his side, staring at the purple dragon and the earth-colored hatchling. She nuzzled the young one again, then turned an imposing eye on the Masters before baring her teeth.

This dragonling would have no Rider.

It was deemed a Wild Dragon, and was only the first.

Chapter One

Summer of Year 895

My hands trembled as I ran the brush through my hair. I bit my lip, focusing on the mirror as if pure concentration could stop an involuntary movement. The tremors increased, and the brush tumbled from my grasp, hitting the vanity with a sharp crack.

Blowing out a breath, my head fell forward, and I buried my face in my hands. My stomach twisted painfully in response to my nerves. I skipped the first meal because I knew I would throw it up in front of everyone. Even a sip of water seemed too daring to attempt.

I dragged my hands down my cheeks, studying my reflection. Fatigue dulled the green in my irises. Worry thinned my pursed lips, tugging them into a frown.

Today was a big day—the biggest of my life. I had worked for twelve long and hard years to get to this point. The first four of my youth didn’t count. Back then, I lived with my mother in a small village, Stonesmead.

My heart twisted at the thought of her. She was a larger woman, kind and soft. She teased about having a baker’s body, claiming it came with the occupation. Flour dusted her hair and clothes more often than not. She always wore her brown hair in a knot on her head and had a smile for anyone who crossed her path.

Mother always said I was a mirror image of my father. I had his emerald eyes, white hair, and fair complexion. Any amount of time in the sun rendered my skin red and blistered.

My years spent in Stonesmead were peaceful, simpler times. No responsibilities or nerves weighed me down. I filled my days with playing in the sunshine and pulling on my mother’s skirts for samples of her baked treats. I ran through the woods, climbed trees and splashed in the river with my friends. Life was carefree then, not a worry in the world.

Until news arrived that my father was killed in the war.

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