Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to be near them that much, I reasoned with myself as I walked along the ledge to F’lorn’s old cave. After all, the beasts were too huge to be quartered with their riders. They had their own caverns, located around the top of the dormant volcano the Academy was built on. From what my father had said, the riders were quartered lower down. Only the most esteemed riders and professors had their own caverns, big enough for a man to live in close proximity to his dragon.
At any rate, I was going now. My formerly luscious locks had been shorn to a spiky cut that completely negated my beauty. No Baron or Duke would want me now, no matter how impressive my bloodlines. Also, the cupboards were bare—I’d had the very last of the weak tea for breakfast and there was no food at all left. I would starve to death before my hair grew out, making me presentable again, so I had no choice.
I’m going, I told myself. I’m going for Auren but I’m also going for me. I won’t live my life as some man’s plaything and servant. I’m worth more than that.
I lifted my chin and headed into the F’lorn’s old cave with determination.
“Ah, there you are!” the courier—whose name I still didn’t know—exclaimed when I came in, just as though he’d been hunting for me instead of the other way around. “Your hair looks better that way,” he added, eying me critically and frowned. “Still too pretty for your own good, though.”
I ignored his words, hoping that the men at the Academy wouldn’t think the same. I’d cut my hair, bound my breasts and I was wearing my family’s pendant—that was the limit of my disguise. At least my short hair made me look more boyish.
The courier’s little brown dragon was dwarfed by the cavernous space, like a puppy put into a kennel meant for a full-grown dog. Contentment radiated off him in waves—I sensed he was happy just to be near his rider. He was much nicer to be near than my father’s dragon had been, I thought. F’lorn had always been in a rage, his anger as hot as his dragon fire. G’lornie wasn’t frightening at all.
Despite the order that we were to leave at six sharp, the courier was sitting on an old stool beside a fire. There was a collapsible metal frame over the licking flames with an iron pan on it. Bacon fat was melting in the blackened bottom of the pan, and he was toasting thick slices of bread in it.
“Yes, here I am,” I said, trying hard not to eye his breakfast. It wasn’t the sight so much as the smells that taunted me. Everything I’d been eating for the past month had almost no odor—bones and tea that had been boiled over and over again. They had lost their aroma long ago. But the rich scent of bacon fat bubbling in the pan tormented me, coming so strongly to my nose that my mouth started to water.
The courier must have seen me eyeing his food, because he made a gesture for me to sit beside him and nodded at the pan.
“Come and help yourself to a slice, if you like, lad,” he said kindly. “It’s not good to fly on an empty stomach.”
My appetite roared to life, but my pride rebelled. I was a daughter—now a son—of a Great House. We had no need to beg.
“Thank you but I’m not hungry,” I said loftily.
Of course, my stomach chose that very moment to growl loudly in angry contradiction.
“Oh, come now, lad.” The courier shook his head. “There’s no shame in being in need.”
“There’s not?” I asked doubtfully. To hear my father rant and rave about our dwindling finances, there was nothing more shameful than poverty.
But the courier shook his head again.
“Course not. I wasn’t raised with much myself, you know,” he said. “Barely had enough Noble Blood to get myself into the Academy—my father owned a farm. Not exactly a going enterprise, you understand.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked blankly.
“Well, because…” He frowned, as if trying to think how to continue. “I’ve heard about what happened to your father—we all have,” he added sympathetically. “It makes sense that you wouldn’t have much to eat with the main breadwinner of your family gone. Your cheekbones are sharp enough to cut glass, and I can practically count your ribs right through that coat.”
I felt a rush of shame that heated my cheeks in an uncomfortable blush. Death by suicide was a black mark on a family’s name—especially when both rider and dragon went together. It usually meant madness and there was nothing worse than that. I wished he didn’t know about it and hoped he was wrong about the rest of the Academy knowing as well.
“I…um…” I didn’t know what to say.
The courier didn’t wait for me to finish. Using a long-handled fork, he fished one of the toasted slices of bread from the pan and handed it to me.
“Here—eat up, lad. As I said, it’s not good to fly on an empty stomach. Can’t have you fainting mid-air.”
This time I took the offered food without complaint. It was hot enough to singe my fingertips but I held onto it anyway and brought it to my lips.
The first bite was pure bliss—crispy and crunchy and salty and slightly greasy from the bacon fat. The toasted bread crunched between my teeth and melted on my tongue, making my stomach growl again with hunger.
I finished the bread in no time. Though I tried to be mannerly about it, I’m afraid I wolfed it down. Grief for Auren had allowed me to ignore my hunger up until now but having real food in my mouth dispelled all other emotions.
“Good, that’s good.” The courier nodded approvingly as he watched me eat the bread. “Would you like another slice?” he added, forking up the second piece and holding it out to me. “I’m full myself,” he added. “I was just going to give it to G’lornie, but the little glutton’s already had a whole goat I bought him down at the village last night, so he doesn’t need it to fly.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t,” I said, even though my stomach was still growling. I took the toasted bread instinctively anyway, but made myself hold it out to the little Brown. “G’lornie should have it—he’s going to take us all the way to the Academy,” I said, trying to make myself believe it.
But the little brown dragon nosed away my hand. Instead of inhaling the piece of bread, he pushed my palm back towards me and there was an anxious look in his golden eyes as he did so, as though he could sense how hungry I was. I could feel his worry for me and it melted my heart.
