Page 47 of The Dragon Queen

He was trying to make a joke of it, but the way the rider’s eyes widened made clear that he heard the tightness in his king’s tone.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

The two men bowed again and then scurried off.

“Here to ensure I make it to the wing in one piece?” I asked.

“Here to ensure you don’t take part in this exercise.” I stopped still and stared at him. “I know you feel like you are part of the wing.”

“More than I do a queen.”

That was blurted out more abruptly than I intended. My cheeks burned as he blinked and then continued.

“Yes, well, the corp doesn’t need a first year cadet tagging along for a training exercise, but a queen?” He nodded to the field where we both watched men clambering onto dragon back. Guards rushed forward, dropping ceramic pots onto the ground for the dragons to pick up, each one trussed up in a net of ropes to make it easy for a dragon to lift it at speed. “Men need something, someone to fight for.”

Him, I wanted to say. Draven was one of them, a fully fledged dragon rider, yet he also possessed the unconscious confidence of a king.

“Look at Glimmer.”

My dragon had deserted me and was now curled up on Darkspire’s shoulder, the two of them lazing under the shade of a tree.

Traitor, I said.

Males protect, she observed sleepily.Queens let them.

“She knows that she need do nothing more than watch the proceedings and then congratulate the dragons that win the day,” he told me.

“Fine.”

His low chuckle had me walking stiff-legged over to where General Rex and the higher ranked officers were clustered. A tent had been erected, sporting the Nithian dragon on a field of deep purple, and within it, a table had been set up. Men took their seats, wine was poured by aides, yet all of them stood as we approached.

“Be seated, gentleman,” Draven said, then pulled out a chair for me. “I think we’re in for a long day.”

“Oh!”

Hours later, I leaned forward as yet another dragon missed the net. His claws raked the air, and he caught the ropes momentarily, but his momentum had them pulling free. Riders laughed as the dragon faltered, his wings wavering as he tried to obey his rider’s orders and haul the pot upwards.

“Gods, I can only hope your uncle is having as many difficulties organising his own army,” Rex said with a sigh. A sip of wine seemed to help. “If this is the way our men implement orders.”

“Early days, Rex,” Draven replied. “It took me months to learn how to stay in the saddle during a barrel roll.”

“We don’t have months.” The general’s fingers tightened around the wine glass stem.

“Sir, our men are well disciplined,” one of the officers said. “Look at Brom on Obsidian.”

Yes, look at him, I wanted to say. It felt like I was travelling with him as Obsidian drifted forward. The black dragon seemed to know exactly when to shoot his claws out and collect the pot. Wings beating, they gained altitude quickly, then without pausing, the pot was dropped, a plume of purple powder marking the spot where it landed.

“Bullseye!”

I could barely stop myself from clapping as I sat ramrod straight, then spun around, expecting to see that everyone else was similarly delighted. Instead, they were distracted by the appearanceof a newcomer. Stefan ambled into the tent, casting his eye over the proceedings.

“He might’ve dropped the pot on the target now,” he said, “but if it was primed with dragonfire and blasting powder, he’d be dead before he got even ten feet. Same with that one.” Stefan gestured to another rider. “And that one.”

“What?”

The wineglass was abandoned as the general sat up straighter. An aide rushed over to take it, but Rex waved the man away.

“Pots are swinging back and forth too much,” Stefan informed them, taking the wine bottle from the aide and then pouring himself a drink. He swallowed that down and then refilled it.

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