Page 48 of Forcing Fate

Willhelm.

He sat there, with one leg stretched out in front of him, and the other bent, resting his arm on his raised knee. His dark eyes searched the waters. He seemed relaxed, as though all the world could go on without him and he wouldn’t care a bit.

But he was here. He was here for me.

He turned to me, his features barren of any smile or pitying frown. He simply looked at me, then turned back to the water.

I was tired, so tired. Physically and mentally. I didn’t feel safe, though. I felt unsure, uprooted. As if I allowed sleep to take me, I might wake to find everything gone. That little blue dragonling kept plaguing my mind, hissing and whirling. I saw Glormith touch his lips to my brow, and his Rider giving his approval of my aptitude. My loneliness, as the dragons would call it, the emptiness inside me.

I felt empty now.

Tears pricked behind my eyes again. I bit my lip and tried to focus on the crash of waves against the shore.

Dawn’s first rays found me lying in the fetal position on the ground. Fatigue glazed my vision in a bleak haze as I stared out at the water. The sunrise glinted against its surface. It was beautiful, and here I was thinking it was the ugliest sight I ever laid eyes on.

A new day.

That meant yesterday’s events were set in stone, recorded and etched in history. Avyanna of Gareth—the first female Dragon Kind refused. The First Chosen who was refused, not once, but twice. The biggest failure in all of Dragon Kind history.

Footsteps sounded from behind, but I didn’t look up when Willhelm shifted and stood. They spoke in low voices, and someone sat much closer to me, pulling my head into their lap.

I listened to Willhelm’s retreating footsteps. He stayed with me all night, never saying a word, just simply being with me.

The woman hummed a soft tune and unweaved the strands of my braid. Her leg was not thick enough to be my mother, nor would my mother be so silent. I didn’t know who it was, nor did I care.

Birds chirped and flitted here and there and the distant sound of dragons bugling could be heard. The woman ran her fingers through my hair, combing and humming. I recognized the tune, a soft haunting lullaby. It was quiet and eerie, as if it alluded to my future—uncertain and hazy.

I closed my eyes. The melody of her song relaxed my tense muscles. If I could just listen to her, and ignore the day and what it meant, ignore the sunrise and the birds chirping, ignore the sound of dragons—everything would be fine.

My heart stung at that thought, bothered that I would push away dragons, yet what was I going to do? What life did I have left to live? I was almost eighteen-winters old. I had no other plan for my life outside of becoming a Dragon Rider. Once, I entertained the thought of becoming a Master, but I knew I never could. I lacked the patience, the desire, or drive to teach students. Teenagers and the attitudes that came with them grated on my very soul. I could never teach them. Even now, the idea seemed… wrong.

A sigh escaped my lips, utterly unsure of myself and the future.

“Avyanna,” the woman whispered.

I didn’t move, didn’t flinch or twitch. I just laid there as if I was dead because that’s what I felt like.

After a pause, she tried again. “Avyanna.”

I still had no reply. If I spoke, it would be an acknowledgment, an acceptance to the world of what happened—a witness giving my own damning testimony.

The woman went back to humming. Her fingers threaded my hair, replaiting it.

In the depths of my mind, I registered this wasn’t right. It was wrong of me to lie here like some weak, pathetic girl. But at the moment, I was helpless to act against it. There was nothing inside me. No spark or fire. Nothing.

Her hands eventually stopped braiding my hair and moved to my back, rubbing gently. My stiff muscles objected at first, then relaxed as she massaged the worst of the kinks out. My eyes were swollen and dry, and I couldn’t seem to open them.

“Avyanna, your mother is here.”

I stopped breathing.

My mother was here. Part of me was relieved. I had been so wrapped up in my own failures that I forgot about her being delayed, but she was here now. She would make everything better again. As soon as that thought rose, a nasty part of my brain smothered it. I was not some child anymore. I didn’t need anyone else to make the world better again. The world was a rotten, cruel place. Life was unfair. I needed to accept that.

I was an embarrassment to my mother and my father would be ashamed of me.

“I don’t want to see her,” I croaked through dry, cracked lips.

Her hand stilled on my back, and her thigh stiffened under my cheek.

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