“Isn’t what?”
“My slave. At least, not entirely. I’m surprised you haven’t heard the news, Commander.”
Now, he did look at Soren. It was a slow perusal, his eyes narrowing as he reached her face. “The Sisters sent word, but I hardly believed the scroll.” He spat on the ground. “You. A Vemon dragon pickedyou.”
Soren held his gaze. “Perhaps the dragons do not hold such prejudices as our kind.”
Commander Eton’s eyes flared with rage, and he strode over, towering above her. “You’re from Mise. You’reweak. I can tell just by looking at you.”
“She has never trained,” Cion cut in. “She’ll need to be assigned a mentor, or she won’t make it through basic training.”
The Commander snorted. “You want me to give a Misean slave special accommodations?”
Cion did not laugh. She only said, “As your future queen, I want you to ensure the rider of aVemon dragonis fit for battle. If Soren is able to do this, she and her dragon may one day be as strong asMòr Maslach.Do you not want our forces to have that?”
Soren held back a shiver at that name. She had no idea who it was, but she knew what the words meant.
Masked Death.
The Commander was nearly purple with rage, but he bit out, “Fine. I will confer with the other leaders and see what can be done. Now, sit.”
Cion smiled and bowed her head for a moment before sitting on the last cushion. Soren sat on the grassy floor beside her.
“Tomorrow,” Commander Eton began, “your basic training begins. From sunrise to midday meal, you will be tested in various weapons of battle and in your stamina. The rest of the day will be spent testing these skills while riding your dragon. If you can’t shoot a bow without falling off your dragon’s back during battle, we won’t have much use for you.”
“Why do we need arrows if we have dragonfire?” Ilav asked.
Idiot,Soren thought.
Rat, as I said, Thessa replied.
Commander Eton laughed coldly, pacing in front of them. “Being a rider does not mean sitting back and letting your dragon take care of everything. If you think that would be enough, you have no idea the chaos of battle. You will soon, though.” He stopped walking and stared directly at Soren as he added, “Out of my sight now. Training begins in the morning.”
He turned away from them, a clear dismissal. Soren rose to her feet to follow Cion and Ilav out of the tent.
“Come with me,” Cion said quietly to her.
Soren didn’t argue as the princess led her to a tent not far from the Commander’s. Inside, there were two simple sleeping mats alongside neat piles of what appeared to be folded clothing. There were no sleeping shifts in the pile, so Soren simply laid on the mat in her day clothes, pulling the thin blanket tight around her as Cion settled in too.
“I had no idea,” Soren whispered into the dark. “I vow it.”
Cion sighed. “I know, Soren. You do understand what this means, though?”
“As much as I can, yes. Thessa is rare.”
“There is only one other rider of her kind that we are aware of.”
“You said his name,” Soren whispered.
Cion turned to face her, her eyes shining in the dark. “I did.Mòr Maslach.No one knows his true name nor his face, but he is my father’s prized weapon. You may one day meet him, given what you share.”
Soren did not want to meet his masked rider, the one surely responsible for so much of the death and destruction that had been rained down on her people. But she didn’t say that.
“We should sleep, princess,’’ she only whispered.
Cion did not reply, shutting her eyes. Soren did the same, and when morning came, her limbs stiff and her eyes heavy, she resolved only one thing.
To survive the day.
