Ilav’s brows raised. “I’m sorry, did I permit you to speak? Cion, you need to keep your leash a bit tighter on this one. At home, we whip them for such defiance?—”
“Shut your godsdamned mouth,” the princess cut in sharply. “Soren isn’t wrong. You both know it, I know it. It’s why I’m so envious of her right now. But bitterness won’t help us, not out there. Thessilnn chose her of her own free will. We had one Vemon dragon in our fleet, and now we have two. That is something to celebrate.”
“Not if its rider can’t even fight,” Elaana muttered.
Soren curled her hand into a fist, nails digging into the soft skin of her palm. But she did not speak, not yet. Every move, every word, needed to be calculated, and the anger rushing through her clouded her judgement.
Princess Cion rubbed at her eyes, smearing the makeup Soren had applied this afternoon before the Ceremony. “Can you two shut up so we can just go to sleep?”
“As Her Highness wishes,” Ilav mocked with a little bow.
Soren glanced at her and said quietly, “Ignore him, my princess.”
The princess she had cared for since they were both small stared at her. They were at a crossroads, but Soren was still a servant, Princess Cion still the heir to the kingdom. She had the power to decide how they would move forward.
“Just call me Cion, Soren,” the princess said finally. “It will make more sense out there, and we’ve known each other long enough that it will not feel odd to me.”
“Yes, my pr—Cion.”
Using her name felt odd on Soren’s tongue, like a taboo word, something she should not speak aloud.
Elaana snorted as she took a cup of the tea and claimed a cot. Ilav ignored Soren altogether, foregoing the tea and lying back on a mat. Tentatively, Soren took a bowl of noodles and settled herself. The princess did the same, and they ate in silence next to each other. Soren resisted the urge to collect her empty bowl.
Night set in, and a Sister came by to collect their empty dishware before dimming the salt lights. Lamps like these must have been imported all the way from Meesling, where they were carved from a unique type of opaque desert rock and filled with a natural gas mined there.
Hours later, when all the others had long fallen asleep and the sunrise tinged the horizon a blazing shade of red, Soren let herself think of her family.
Of Kelshie.
Her parents.
Little Thurn.
They were all gone—her parents slaughtered by soldiers the day she’d been ripped from her village and Thurn likely murdered with the other small children deemed useless.
But Kelshie… Perhaps she finally had a chance to find her now.
A far-away roar echoed through the mountains, and the others stirred just as a Sister appeared in the doorway.
“It’s time,” she announced. “This is your first test. Your packs have been readied. Let us see if you will all make the journey.”
Soren swallowed hard but tried to hide her fear. Her dragon was by far the biggest, but she wasn’t sure if that was a help or a hindrance. She rose to her feet and quickly braided her hair before glancing at the princess—Cion.
“It’s fine,” she said quietly. “I want to feel the wind in my hair when I fly for the first time.”
Soren nodded, following the Sister out of the room with the others. She led them down a set of rickety wooden stairs hugging a cliff, open to the outside air and the hundreds of feet below, save a few raised wooden guardrails. Ilav looked a little green as they descended.
When they stopped again, they were standing in an open stone clearing, even larger than the arena from yesterday. There,the dragons awaited, each wearing a harness, saddle, and pack. Thin rope ladders hung down from the saddles, and Soren surmised getting onto Thessilnn would most definitely be more difficult than it would be for the others.
Good thing you’ve never been afraid of heights.
Soren jolted as she heard the dragon’s smooth, feminine voice in her mind for the first time since the ceremony.
She stared at her with those oddly familiar silver eyes.
Good instinct.
“What?” she said aloud, and Ilav laughed.
