The compliment felt good, even if he misunderstood my reason for choosing Myth’s name. Clarence’s comment gave me a little hope—maybe I wouldn’t be the only one totally inexperienced in the saddle. Maybe not all these wealthy families spoiled their children.
I finished cleaning the saddle and bent to heft the thing into my arms, the way Bryce had shown us. There were lots of straps and the saddles were huge and hard to move, thanks to the rigid frame, made from dragon scales, that sat beneath the leather seat. Most noble families had stablehands who did the heavy lifting for them, but Bryce assured us we’d be carryingour own saddles here. Each dragon’s size and pattern of spikes was unique, making custom saddles an absolute requirement for riding. Fortunately, Fairfax had commissioned one as soon as he’d ascertained Myth’s measurements. He’d assured me the saddle would be ready by the time Myth arrived at Cardan Lott.
I’d never lifted a dragon saddle until today, but a month of shoveling and wheeling full wheelbarrows had strengthened my arms. I tucked all the straps in and slung the saddle up to my shoulder.
A few steps away, Clarence dropped his saddle halfway to his dragon’s den.
When Prescott laughed, I leaped toward Clarence, ready to help him lift the burdensome saddle, but Bryce wagged his finger at me.
“Ah, ah, Miro. We each carry our own load here.”
Right. I kept walking toward House Ruby’s tack room. Bryce had shown us that hauling the saddle over our shoulders relieved much of the strain on our arms, but it was awkward to get it up there and hold it there if any of the straps were loose and dangling.
I had to stop and readjust a strap that fell as I was walking. When I swung the saddle up to my shoulder again, Prescott was striding by, his saddle perched on his shoulder like it was no more than a little cat nestled against his thick neck.
“Saints, Miro,” he said, stepping out of my way as the saddle knocked into his side.
“Sorry,” I said, teetering under the weight.
But as he marched off, he turned and called out to Clarence, “If you need any help with that, Miro is a pack horse.”
It was both a compliment and an insult, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to smile or frown. Clarence, however, who was hauling his saddle all wrong, scooting it across the ground, looked up at me with admiring eyes as I passed him.
“Show me how you do that,” he said.
Shocked by his humility, I nearly dropped my saddle. “Okay, give me a minute.” I deposited Shep’s saddle and returned to show him how I used my knee as a lever when lifting the saddle from the ground.
“Yes, like that,” I said when he got the saddle onto his shoulder.
He blushed, his pale skin blotchy with color. “Thanks.” Then he chuckled.
“What are you doing talking toher?” Scarlett asked as she breezed by. She, too, had taken a half-dozen attempts to get the saddle onto her shoulder but, to my surprise, hadn’t dropped it once. “Your father will not be pleased.”
Clarence’s voice came out strained. “She’s a student here, just like you, Alcott.”
I wanted to hug Clarence as he ambled away, looking like he might tip over any minute.
The daybefore the arrival ceremony, I received a letter from Fairfax explaining that he would be accompanying Myth to the school. Everything was building toward the moment when I would climb into the saddle for the first time.
Today, I donned my riding uniform.
Staring at myself in the large mirror in the girls’ bathroom, I could hardly believe it was really me looking back. The pointed shoulders, the intricate silver thread woven down the front and back, the straight collar. All of it screamedgodborn. These were the clothes so few in Cavaria ever got to wear, and today I was one of them.
My hands pressed down my sides and rested on my hips. If anyone recognized Myth as the wild dragon the Hunt had been searching for, today would be my only day to wear these clothes. I inhaled deeply and left the bathroom.
Our entire school assembled at the lair to watch the parade of new dragons arriving. The first years from each house lined up in the center of the lair’s wide rotunda. All along the walls stood the rest of the student body. It was hot, and my legs were dripping sweat, but the thick clothing was designed to protect our legs from the dragon’s heat, the rubbing saddle, and the wind. The blouse, at least, was thin cotton, billowing out over the high-waisted pants. Over it all hung the belted mantle, which was really just a coat with a fancy name. I’d never understood why the godspawn had such strange terms for their unusual clothing, but now that I was acting like one of them, a mantle on my own shoulders, the term felt less silly, more…meaningful. Godborn or not, I was a dragon rider.
Scarlett’s dragon walked in first, following a man in a crisp brown suit. Scarlett’s dragon was a beautiful creature, reddish-orange with glassy scales and a sleek tail. Even the dragon’s head spikes were small and sharp, a bit like Scarlett. The man bowed to Scarlett and vanished into the crowd, which erupted into applause as Scarlett mounted her dragon.
Saints.It was almost my turn to mount my dragon.
I’d seen people do it. It couldn’t be that hard.
One leg, then the other. Grab the handles and pull up.
Next came Covington’s dragon, Azeron. I recognized him and swallowed hard. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been wounded—bymydragon. Even though Azeron was larger than Myth, Covington made mounting look easy, up in the saddle in a flash of practiced movement. Prescott mounted his pale gray dragon with almost as much finesse. After Mabel, it was my turn.
One of Fairfax’s men led Myth into the lair. My heart pounded so hard I was afraid the dragons could hear it. But as I looked up at my dragon, his wide yellow eyes fixed on me, my tension slipped away. A feeling of joy swelled inside me, and a nervous laugh burst from my lips. I walked forward, beaming at Myth. He tucked his chin at me in greeting, and I dropped my eyes to the glistening saddle perched on his back.
