Page 52 of Forcing Fate

“Some boys thought it would make for a good laugh if they smuggled frogs into the girls’ rooms on the third floor. Frogs!” she said with a note of resignation.

“I almost sent for Tegun, only because I thought it fitting that his men catch the confounded creatures. Could you imagine?” She clicked her tongue, lips pressed firm. “Men, chasing frogs and horrified women chasing them with brooms? I know of several women who would like nothing better than an excuse to maul an unsuspecting man with a broom.”

Amusement wormed its way inside me—a tiny, frail thing in such a large, empty place that was my heart.

She continued to drone on about her day and the plans it held until I finished the roll. After which she eyed the fruit. I shook my head. I didn’t have it in me to eat more. She nodded, content that I ate at all, then saw herself out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I curled into myself, trying to fall asleep. Noises drifted through my thin walls—joyous laughter, women chattering, and the distant bellow of dragons. I pulled the blanket over my head. If I could ignore the world, then perhaps, just maybe, it would ignore me.

Master Niehm came by with my evening meal and sat with me while I tried to eat. I played with the stew, not hungry in the slightest.

“Avyanna?”

I looked up at her, ready for her to demand I feed myself as Master Elenor had. Instead, her gaze was focused out my tiny window.

“Did I ever tell you I knew the first Chosen who was refused?” Her voice was quiet and reserved, lacking its usual fire.

I stared at her, dragging my spoon through the stew. There wasn’t much to know about him. People said he eventually left the school after the hatchling refused him. That he moved to another village and lived in peace.

“His name was Valden.” She turned to look at me. The strangest sense of longing gleamed in her green gaze. “He had blonde hair and the kindest brown eyes you’d ever see. He was a gentleman and always put others first. If anyone needed help, they knew they could go to him for anything.”

Her attention returned to the darkening sky and went on. “He trained, studied and practiced harder than any other student. He even volunteered to help load the dragon dung from the canyon just to be close to the creatures.”

I wrinkled my nose at that thought. Even I wouldn’t volunteer for that job. It was the absolute worst—shoveling giant piles of dung into wagons. It made an excellent compost for the local farmers who supplied food for the King’s grounds.

She glanced over with a smile, noting my disgust. “He was a funny one, too… always making jokes, trying to get people to laugh. He was a prankster, but he never took it too far, like some of the boys here. If he were still here, I’d wager he would have had a hand with the frogs Elenor dealt with.”

I lifted a bite of cold stew to my mouth as I listened to her story.

“He was my promised.”

I hesitated with my next spoonful. I’d never heard Valden was promised to anyone. Had he left her?

“He was so excited to be a Dragon Rider. He told me that if they chose him to fight in the war, he would find a spot for me at the front. A cook or something—though I am a terrible cook. I burn everything.”

Tears glinted in her eyes as she turned back to the window. Her smile was full and bright, despite the trembling in her words.

“He said that if they ordered him to stay and protect the homelands, he would take me with him. We would go on grand adventures. See the world and explore it together. Us and his dragon.”

Her voice cracked a bit, and she took a moment to collect herself before continuing, “I was there that Hatching Day, when the dragonling refused him. He didn’t know what to do. The Masters were as puzzled as we were.” She let out a sigh, her shoulders drooping with the memory.

“He visited it every day that year, trying to bond with it by feeding it, and reading to it. He treated it like a wild animal he could tame. But nothing worked. Nothing won that little creature to him. It flew off in the middle of the night, never to be seen again.”

She turned to me with raw hurt in her eyes. “He changed Avyanna. That dragonling took a part of him that I never got back. He didn’t help anyone anymore, or try to make others laugh. He spent every waking moment with that dragonling, trying to convince everyone it only needed more time to accept him.”

She took a steadying breath and straightened. “Avyanna, he let the dragonling’s refusal define him. He let that be the one thing people remembered about him.” She paused, as if unsure how to form her next words. “What do you know of the rest of the story?”

I set the bowl aside. This happened almost twenty-six years ago, and still Master Niehm’s pain was palpable, filling my tiny room.

“It’s said that he left for a normal village life,” I replied quietly. My voice was rough with disuse.

Her gaze took on a sharper edge. “He killed himself.”

I pulled back at the venom lacing her words. A strange numbness iced my veins and stilled my breath. Any response stuck in my throat.

“He took his own life, not seeing the worth in it anymore. He took his life from all those that loved him, everyone he had helped and befriended.” Her voice hitched, and she pressed her lips together, composing herself. “He took his life from me.”

Silence fell, a thick and foreboding thing. A haunted look came over her face, and her piercing gaze seemed to see through my very soul.

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