Page 46 of Forcing Fate

I’d been restless all night, my stomach turning. This morning, my eyes itched with fatigue. There was no rest to be had when it was my second Hatching Day as First Chosen. It would be my last sleepless night, for tonight I would have my dragonling and it would put my fears at ease.

With so little to call my own, packing my room wasn’t hard. I wanted everything to be ready, as when my dragonling hatched, I would move to the Dragon Canyon. I had only visited it once, on a tour during class. The caverns were huge, and me and my dragonling would grow into them. Most were big enough to house a dragon of five years and their Rider easily. The larger, older dragons lived in caves further in the canyon, so deep they were only accessible by dragonback.

On my way to the amphitheater, I noted the hustle and bustle of those around me. People walked here and there, laughing freely. This was one of the few days that common folk gained access to the King’s grounds. It was quite a celebration.

Vendors sold roasted goods, or sugary confections. The old and young alike joined in festival games, and a few merchants hawked their wares, adding to the pleasant din.

A bell tolled, a bell that differed from all the others on the King’s grounds.

The chime rang clear and deep, and the bellow of dragons followed. Dragons took to the sky, flying for the amphitheater roof. As they settled on their perches, they jostled and snapped at each other when another got too close. I could almost hear the reassuring murmurs of their Riders.

Anxiety flooded me, my heart lurching to my throat. My mother wasn’t here, and I wasn’t sure why. Her letters told me how excited she was, and that she would be here to see a hatchling choose me. When I left the dorms, though, no one had seen her.

I wondered if she was well. None of the commoners mentioned anything of poor weather delaying them or any other worries on the road. Perhaps she’d fallen ill and was unable to make the distance by begging rides from people headed this way, as she normally did.

Insecurity crept into my bones as I neared the amphitheater. I parted with the crowd lining up at the main entrance and took the smaller path to the side of the building where the Chosen entered.

Someone slammed into me, and I hissed as I collided with the brick wall. Straightening, I spun to see who shoved me.

Vivian.

Her sneer was vile, her lips curled, and nose pinched with disgust. Her arm was looped through Geran’s, and she leaned in close, whispering something in his ear, keeping her narrowed eyes pinned on me. Geran was a First Chosen this year and apparently the next victim of Vivian’s poisonous attention. They shoved past me and Geran turned a malicious smile my way. On second thought, ‘victim’ was incorrect. He and Vivian seemed a brilliant match, indeed.

I shuddered and stared at my feet as they passed. I wasn’t quite up to a fight today. When all of this was over, I’d be better suited to take on bullies. Until then, my stomach would be an endless roiling pit.

They snickered, stepping past me toward the arena, and I followed a safe distance behind. I tried to reassure myself that my mother was fine, just delayed, and that a hatchling would choose me today. There was no reason for one not to.

A week ago, the silver dragon, Glormith, checked the Chosen’s aptitude. He still sensed the emptiness and aptitude for the bond in me. We didn’t know exactly what that meant, but the dragons seemed to correlate that with being a suitable candidate to be bonded to.

I entered the arena, fingers clenching the skirts of my gray gown. Nervousness thrummed through me, and I looked around at the other would-be Dragon Riders. My shoulders sagged with disappointment. There wasn’t a friendly face among them. They scorned me for being a First Chosen a second time. The students treated it as though the Masters showed me favoritism. Which they had, in a way. But I had worked as hard as any other student here.

Master Brann stood in the shadows and caught my eye. He gave me a small smile and a nod of encouragement. I tried my best to return the gesture as I settled in my place on the soft arena floor. The sun-warmed sand heated me through, a slight comfort to the chill flooding my veins. Rays of sunshine peaked over the lip of the amphitheater, glinting off the eggs in the center.

There were seven eggs this year, all sparkling with promise. I looked up as a dragon trilled, craning its head. Elispeth, a white dragon. She was small by comparison to the dragons her age, about two wagons in length. She was not the mother of this clutch, but she had mated this spring. Her maternal instincts likely prompted her actions toward the eggs. Her Rider placed a hand on her shoulder, rubbing her scales.

The amphitheater grew more crowded as more and more bodies packed inside. The cacophony of music and excited clamor echoed in my ears. Nausea flushed my cheeks, and I bit my lip, trying to keep it together. I focused on the clutch, breathing in and out—in and out.

It would be fine, it would.

Time passed in a haze. Dragons shifted, anxiously awaiting the new arrivals. People chatted and laughed. The sun beat down on the eggs and us Dragon Men. This was the summer solstice, the longest and hottest day of the year. Sweat beaded along my temples, and I chewed on my drying lips.

Crack!

My eyes darted over the eggs, scanning for the first one to pip. I dared not even blink. All chatter died. Dragons sniffed and huffed in interest from the roof.

A small reddish-orange egg teetered and shook. From where I sat, I saw no crack, but that had to be the one that sounded. My heart beat so hard in my chest, everyone had to hear it. The tiny hatchling emerged, and somehow, I knew this was not my dragonling. Glancing over at the other six First Chosen, a large raven-haired boy beamed at the little hatchling.

Sharp pain jabbed my heart, stealing my breath. The dragonling was clearly his. I offered a small smile for appearance’s sake before refocusing on the clutch.

One after the other, they hatched till one remained.

The rest of the First Chosen cooed and coddled their hatchlings, and I sat on the hot sand, sweating from heat and raging anxiety.

Thousands of eyes stared at me, baring down as if the ground beneath me would swallow me whole. The blue egg trembled. The Masters’ nerves descended on me, too. They wanted this. They wanted to prove their experiment had some merit, that it wasn’t all a waste. Fearful thoughts bombarded me. Would this be a repeat of last year? Or would this be my year of redemption?

A small indigo nose burst through the shell. It gulped the fresh, clean air like a drowning man. My throat tightened, and I swallowed, attempting to rid myself of the sensation. A foreleg reached out, clawing at the shell, and an iron vice clamped around my heart, crushing it. My lungs constricted as the hatchling tore itself from its confines.

The dragonling shook like a wet dog, scattering bits of shell, and blinked at the group of Dragon Men, glancing past me.

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