My throat tightened at his words. He’d coached me through this, but hearing it again, now that I could see the students I’d be up against, made me feel like a ship overladen, in danger of sinking. Marching toward the school’s grand archway, I felt as if I were about to step through one of the magical doors I’d read about in fairy books, doors that led to other worlds.
The late summer sun was bright overhead, but its heat and light were constantly interrupted by fast-moving clouds that went on their way with a jovial disinterest in the turmoil inside me.
Shadows enveloped me as I walked under the archway cutting through the wide outer wall of Cardan Lott College. My steps slowed as if the darkness here weighed more than average shadows. The air was cooler, too, and gooseflesh prickled on my arms. From here, I could observe the courtyard for a brief moment before stepping into my new world.
Students leaned forward to kiss each other’s cheeks in greeting after weeks apart. The girls stood mostly in little clusters, laughing loudly as if their mothers had not taught them better. But there were no mothers here; they’d all been left behind, outside the walls. The boys in their matching suits looked like an army that battled with bank accounts rather than battle-axes. They stood with hands in pockets or running through their hair—a bit too often, I noticed—and every so often, one would shout and point at another boy, not in jest, but in apparent approval of something the other boy had said.
“Just going to watch from the shadows?” said a voice behind me.
My quiet observations shattered. Duke Covington’s son, with his perfectly slicked crop of golden hair, strode toward me. In his glittering eyes was a malice that rivaled what I’d seen in his father’s eyes. “Merlon Fairfax’s niece, isn’t it?” he said, his smile betraying what he really thought of that lie. “Or should I call you shovel girl?”
An abrupt sinking feeling inside me made me miss my chance to respond as he paraded by, clearly not interested in my reaction at all. His attention was already focused on the courtyard ahead. I hurried forward, but then slowed, not wanting to appear like I was walking in with him.
As soon as he stepped into the sunshine, a shift occurred. Every face angled toward him, like the passing of a royal through his courts. He nodded at a group of girls as he strolled by, and they giggled and jostled against each other like frenzied chickens.
I rolled my eyes and slipped quietly into the courtyard, staying close to the outside wall, where there was a bit of shade to better hide my gaudy yellow dress. I tried to remember why I was here. To topple their way of life. How badly could it go?
I only had to survive the petty dramas of the upper class for one year, even though right now it sounded like an eternity.
Another boy, this one with dark hair and angular features, strode into the courtyard, his arms lifting at his sides as he walked up to the duke’s son.
“Covington!” called the dark-haired boy, clapping his friend on the back.
My stomach tightened and fists formed at my sides.
Everyone in Treston knew who Duke Covington’s sons were. Rushland and his brother, Reginald, were the richest men under twenty-five years old in the entire kingdom. It was impossible not to hear their names whispered on the streets or see them printed in the papers, though Reginald’s name was usuallybeside headlines about his philanthropic donations or other good deeds, whereas Rushland’s was often smeared across the gossip column.
A suddenbangstartled me so much that I jumped, my elbow knocking into the stone wall behind me. I recovered, glancing around to see who had noticed as I rubbed my arm. A man holding a long wooden staff, elaborately carved to look like a dragon curled around a spire, stepped from the shadows of the school’s arched main entrance into the bright sun of the courtyard. It was the headmaster, Casper Vaughan, wearing long robes that brushed his ankles.
At his final step, he tapped the staff once more on the stone, but I was ready this time and I barely flinched. Every face was watching him now.
“Riders! We have here today a class of hatchlings who think themselves ready.”
Snorts and chuckles drifted across the courtyard from the older students. I huffed at their sense of superiority.They refer to us as hatchlings? Really?
“Shall we show them what it takes to be a rider?”
“Sir, we shall!” the students shouted in unison.
“Riders, why do we exist?”
“To preserve the past, to protect the future.” The words, echoing in the chorus of voices, brought an unexpected chill down my bare arms. I’d heard the school was steeped in tradition, in rituals, and yet I couldn’t help but swell with pride that I, too, would be taking part in the fabled magic of Cardan Lott. I might not be here to preserve the past—more like shatter it—but I was here to protect the future of every single bottomsider who’d ever dreamed of bonding with a dragon. The futures of these wealthy kids were already perfect, carved out by a well-worn river they were born to sail. I, however, would have to dredge my own channel for a chance to sail those waters.
“First years,” bellowed the headmaster, “are you ready for your first test?”
“What?” hissed a girl standing a step away. She was shorter than me, with vibrantly warm skin and glossy black hair adorned with a small circlet, as if she were some sort of royalty. She wore a strange dress that wrapped around her body, exposing her midsection, but she wore it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m guessing you didn’t know?” I said, anxious that I would be forced to answer some question about an obscure text I should have read.
She shook her head. “But you did?”
“Sort of.” I frowned thinking about Fairfax’s words to me. “My sponsor mentioned an entrance test, but he didn’t tell me anything else about it.” I shrugged. I’d missed what the headmaster had been saying.
From the head of the courtyard, the robed headmaster called, “Welcome, dragon riders and those recently bonded. You are stepping into the oldest and most honored tradition among our people. To be a rider of Cardan Lott, you must prove yourself strong enough. Here, we value bravery, honor, excellence.” The words were etched in stone above the school’s entrance.
Then one student stepped forward and shouted, “Only the brave.”
Another stepped forward and said, “Only the honorable.”
