Page 19 of Rejected By Dragons

I deserve more than some crappy apology text, though. I deserve to be held and consoled. I deserve for him to give a shit about the fact that I might be getting kicked out of the Air Kingdom tonight.

I deserve to be told about the most basic aspects of his personal and family life.

Sighing, I scrub a hand across my eyes. That last part isn't fair. By all accounts--and wow, have I heard a lot of accounts today--Storm's sister showed up out of the blue this morning, smuggled into the royal mansion before dawn. Where she was before that is anyone guess.

"I heard she was in rehab," my aunt says, scandalized.

The official story was that she'd been at a mystical sanctuary, working with a team of sorcerers to restore her health after a mysterious childhood ailment left her bedridden. I never really thought to question the king's word on it. Why would I? She'd disappeared shortly before I arrived, and I had bigger things to worry about at the time.

Storm never said anything to contradict the official narrative. Honestly, he never really said much of anything at all. The handful of times he brought up his sister, it was while recounting stories from his early years. Her name always brought a smile to his lips. But dark clouds would fill his eyes moments later. When I prodded him about it, he changed the subject, and I never felt like I was in any position to press. Whatever had happened, it was clearly painful. It was also firmly in the past.

Until now.

As Helena and her buddy finish up their conversation, I cross my arms over my chest. It irks me that I don't have any better information than the local gossipmongers.

It also irks the hell out of me that I'm stuck standing here when I could be off wandering the festival. I glance around.

Emergence Ceremonies only happen once or twice a year. When they do, dragons stream in from across the kingdom. We gather here, at the top of Wynrath Mountain. A powerful combination of witch and dragon magic shields us. The humans down in town have no idea that the most powerful shifters on the continent are basically having a giant party up here. There are tents and carnival rides, booths selling treats and children running around with ice cream smeared on their cheeks.

A shiver courses through me as my gaze lands on the huge rock cairn set up in the very center of the scrum. At twilight, King Zephyr and his sons will alight right there. Maybe his daughter, too. He'll give some speech about the mighty Air Kingdom.

Then he'll take to the skies once more. He and the members of the royal guard will swoop out over the field of stone and coals set out at the edge of the cliff. They'll set it all ablaze. The Oracle will invite those of us who've felt the stirrings of their dragons to face the flames.

And I'll find out exactly what I'm made of. One way or another, my fate will finally be decided.

All week, I've been preparing for that moment. It doesn't matter that I've stood for the trials four times before. I've pored over every book in the library, reading every word ever written on the Emergence, desperate to find some hidden nugget of insight, buried in some dusty tome.

The end result: bupkis.

I'm no closer to understanding why my dragon won't Emerge. I'm no more confident than I have been the last three times I've tried.

But I won't be deterred. I won't abandon my dragon--even if she's abandoned me. And if I fail to summon her... If Prince Fury carries through on his threat to force me into exile, so as to stop me from "embarrassing the kingdom"...

I swallow hard.

Well. I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, now won't we?

For now, I'm here, looking as fierce as possible. Despite its steep price tag, I bought the black and red dress I fell in love with at the store. It's easily the nicest piece of clothing I've ever worn, the fabric soft against my skin. The fit is a dream, too, accentuating my figure. With my hair up in a high bun and my eyeliner extra dramatic, I look like a million bucks. I'm determined to act like it, too.

At long last, Aunt Helena and her buddy part ways. "Come on," she says, scowling at me. "Keep up."

Right, I was definitely the problem.

We stride farther along the main drag of the festival. I try to steer us toward those funnel cakes, but Aunt Helena spots someone else across the way. "Oh Brynn, look, it's your cousin Draco."

She grabs Brynn by the hand and takes off. I hesitate. Draco is Brynn's cousin on her father's side. While Aunt Helena is no fan of her long-lost ex-husband--apparently, he took off with some Fire Kingdom hussy when Brynn was five years old--she's been pretty decent about making sure Brynn knows the other half of her family.

Draco is no relation of mine, though. Aunt Helena reminds me of it, shooing me away. "You don't have to follow us everywhere, you know."

I take my lip between my teeth. I definitely know that. There's safety in numbers, though. Sticking with Brynn in a crowd always helps me feel safer. Especially in a place like this where I know Fury, Jasmine, and all those other jerks are bound to be lurking somewhere.

That said, I can take a hint. Clearly I'm not wanted right now. I step back. It's all the opportunity Aunt Helena needs to dump me.

As Helena hauls her off, Brynn shoots me an apologetic look. "I'll catch up with you?"

I manage a smile that's more confident than I feel. "Sure."

They wander off, and I know better than to just stand there. Besides, there's plenty for me to do here, even on my own.

---