Page 4 of Forcing Fate

“Avyanna,” he said, inclining his head in a respectful bow.

“Ruger. Good day to you.” I slipped past him and started down the hall toward the arena.

“Are you excited about today?” he asked conversationally, keeping pace with me.

We weren’t friends, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be friendly.

“Definitely. You?” I replied, trying my best to keep my anxiety buried.

“No.” He laughed nervously and ran a hand through his hair. “There might be another Wild One.”

“If there is, I’m sure it won’t be you it refuses.” My words were for him, but I used them to assure myself, as well.

“Easy for you to say. The hatchlings have never refused a female Chosen. I heard the Masters were thinking of trying a year of only female Dragon Kind—an experiment of sorts.”

“They wouldn’t do that,” I scoffed, shaking my head. “It would be too risky.”

If it didn’t work, an experiment like that chanced more Wild Ones, not less.

“I’m just saying, your luck is better than mine. So, don’t worry.” He offered me a broad smile that didn’t quite reach the nervous glint in his eyes.

“It will be fine, Ruger, for both of us.”

I hoped I was right.

We settled in our circles as the bell chimed nine times. The crowd murmured and the dragons on the roof snorted and clicked quietly. My mother was somewhere in the crowd, cheering me on. Her usual visits took place in the spring and fall, not in the middle of summer. She had scraped together her savings to be with me today. Suspense thickened the air, and I shifted, pulling my feet under myself.

The sun rose over the lip of the arena, caressing the eggs with warm rays. Every unique shell bore different hues and speckles. Some held distinct mottling and veining, leaving one to wonder what the dragonling inside looked like. My gaze landed on a beautiful gilded egg. I could almost see swirls on the eggshell as if it would have swirling patterns on its scales. I wondered what color eyes the dragonling would have.

A grown dragon, Aleon, had gold scales. I glanced up at the roof, spotting his gleaming hide right away. His dark, inky stare focused on the brood. Would that hatchling have black eyes as well?

The mother of the clutch, Esperna, a blood-red dragon, sat perched beside him, ready to swoop down if any Wild Ones emerged. Mothers did not love their young any less if they refused the bond. They treated them the same, keeping them close as they gained independence until they were nearly a year old and they flew off on their own.

Elgoth, a silver dragon, had sired this clutch. He was slain in battle shortly after their union. Esperna hadn’t laid a clutch since and most suspected this brood to be her last.

We all waited patiently for the first dragon to pip their egg. Hatchlings took their time, only coming out when they were ready. There was always something magical about watching that first one break through. The crowd would erupt into awed whispers and hushed wonder, filling the air with excitement.

My thoughts drifted as I stared at the gold egg, almost willing it to be mine.

Dragons didn’t mate for life. Their only lifelong attachment was to their Riders. In the days before the War of Dragons and Men, they lived for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Now they averaged two hundred before they grew old and passed. Through blood-magic, Riders shared this longevity of life.

After passing the Veil, the dragon’s bodies were guarded until they could be burned. The Shadows plaguing our borders were vile Shamans who used the blood and bones of dragons for foul magic. On the battlefield, Shadow Men descended on fallen dragons like hungry vultures, leaving nothing behind.

Their magics were black and poisonous, eating at their very own soul. The magic we knew was from Riders and the dragons. When a Rider bonded with the dragonling, there was an opening of minds, as if a bridge connected them. Emotions, feelings, thoughts, and even magic could cross that bridge.

Through this bond, though, Riders could not take magic from the dragons. It had to be freely given.

The Shadow Men did no such thing. They stole and polluted the magics for their own selfish desires.

Crack!

The sound of a dragonling pipping jolted me from my reflections. My eyes darted over the pile, frantic to see which egg it was. A little sea-green egg shook, and I relaxed with a smile, wondering at the thoughts going through its head as it tried to break into the world.

Dragonlings communicated with their bonded immediately after hatching. They couldn’t speak words, but had intelligent thoughts. Their bodies grew at a rapid pace and within a year, they’d be the size of a horse. Their minds developed even faster, aided by their bond.

The hatchling’s snout poked through his shell, flicking its navy-blue tongue as it sampled this new world and all the smells that came with it. With a faint chirp, the egg lurched, falling hard on its side. It cracked the rest of the way, and the tiny creature sprawled out on the sand.

The sea-green dragonling stood on trembling legs, shaking its body like a wet dog. Shards of eggshell went flying. Someone in the crowd giggled, but all the Chosen focused on the dragonling, wondering who it would bond with.

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