I lay back in the bed, forcing the flames to dissipate.What is wrong with me?
Maybe I’ve been spending too much time with him. Maybe we need some time apart. And I suppose when I’m back in my village for the third trial, I’ll have exactly that.
I’ll be home, and I’ll never have to see the prince again.
A thought that should bring me peace, onlyit doesn’t.
I groan, deciding its best to distract myself, to force these ridiculous thoughts oh so very far from my mind.
Picking up the journal, I crack it open. My eyes scan the first page, then the second, then the third, until I’m nearly halfway through the entire thing.
The old king had trieddesperatelyto bond with a dragon. His notes, his writing, becoming more and more chaotic,unhinged, as I turn the pages.
I can almostfeelhis desperation.
They would not bond with him, just as Jax had told me.
They would notspeakto him, except only to say one thing, they believed the king to be impure. Undeserving of the flame he could wield.
The old king wrote that same word over and over and over again.
Impure.
Impure.
Impure.
I close the journal, unable to make sense of most of what was written. But mainlythat.That one word he couldn’t seem to stop writing.
What does it mean? Did the dragons believe themselves to be better than the humans?
And if they were better, then why are they all dead?
Over one hundred years ago, countless dragons roamed the sky.
Over one hundred years ago, the dragons called the clouds home and breathed fire over our kingdom.
And now, they’re gone.
Every single one of them.
Grinding my teeth, I decide my time would be better spent trying to command the flames.
And so that’s what I do.
For the next three days.
And not once do I see the prince.
* * *
I burst into a ball of fire, from head to toe. The flames consume me, and my clothes disintegrate immediately, but with no one around, I can’t find it in me to care.
It would be nice to be able to do this during the trial—allow the flames to completely cover me, creating a barrier no one would dare touch. But I’d rather find a different way to protect myself, one that doesn’t involve exposing my bare breasts and ass to a crowd of people.
The ache in my muscles is setting in, slow at first, but becoming more painful and debilitating by the second. I breathe through mynose and close my eyes. There will be distractions in the arena, things that will break my focus, causing my flames to disappear.
I need to be prepared for that. I continue to hold the flames, trying my best to ignore the pain.
