And he grabbed me by the hand as we rushed out of his room together.
46
AURORA
Up in the Hatching Grounds, everything was controlled chaos. Cadets were rushing to get to their eggs, many of which were rocking violently back and forth on the shiny black sands.
It felt like someone had turned the heat up too—I started sweating almost as soon as I stepped through the golden door. Master Yarsmouth was there, of course, directing everyone to their eggs. At the edge of the sands a huge table had been set up. It was filled with bowls of raw meat—chunks of mutton and goat for the newly hatched drakelings which would be ravenous when they first emerged.
At the end of the table two of the women from the kitchens were chopping more meat off a couple of bloody carcasses—there had to be enough to go around or the drakelings could get agitated and start fighting each other.
Master Yarsmouth saw me as soon as I walked in. He came over, frowning and laid a hand on my arm.
“Your ‘egg’ hasn’t so much as twitched, lad,” he said to me, a frown of disapproval on his face. “Let me urge you to leave right now—it will spare you the shame and sorrow of having an unhatched egg.”
“I’m not going to have an unhatched egg,” I said, frowning. “Now please step aside—my drakeling needs me.”
“No.” Master Yarsmouth frowned. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stepped directly into my path. “I can’t let you sully this day—the Hatching is too important to?—”
“Step out of Auri’s way, Master Yarsmouth.” Ryse stepped up to him, frowning. “Let him get to his egg.”
The Master of the Hatching Grounds looked up at him in surprise.
“You’re helping him? For shame! You’re a Wing Leader, Skoren—how can you encourage this delusion?”
“Auri’s not delusional—if he says he hears a dragon in that egg, then I believe him,” Ryse growled. “Now please step aside and let him get to his egg.”
He didn’t make any kind of verbal threat—he didn’t need to. The way he was glaring made Master Yarsmouth step out of my way.
Feeling relieved, I rushed through the shifting black sands, which seemed to suck at my boots and slow me down. I was worried because I couldn’t hear L’eesha.
Back on Impression Day, she’d called to me and though her voice was faint, I’d heard her from the front of the vast room. But now I heard nothing—not even a peep. I didn’t feel anything either and usually her impatience was the first thing that hit me when I walked into the Hatching Grounds.
I finally made it to the back of the grounds where all the abandoned golden eggs were piled like forgotten treasure. There it was—the smallest golden egg—but as Master Yarsmouth had said, it wasn’t moving a bit.
The other eggs were all rocking as the drakelings inside started chipping their way out. They were born with one extra sharp tooth at the front of their muzzle—an egg tooth—which they used to break the shell when it was time. But though I could hear the sound of shells cracking all around me, my egg wasn’t even moving.
“L’eesha?” I panted, dropping to my knees and putting a hand on the smooth golden shell. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”
For a long, awful moment, there was nothing but silence. Then I heard the tiniest whisper in my mind.
“so…tired.”
“L’eesha, sweetheart!”
I nearly cried from relief. She was there—she hadn’t died trying to break the shell! Which happened sometimes, unfortunately when a drakeling used every last fraction of its energy trying to get out and tired itself to death before it could break free of its egg.
“Come on,” I urged her. “Come out to me!”
“been…trying.” Her voice was still dreadfully faint in my head. “shell…too…thick.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?” It was Ryse, leaning over me with an anxious look on his face.
I looked up at him, feeling like I was going to cry.
“She says she’s been trying to get out, but the shell is too thick. She says she’s tired.”
He frowned in concern. We both knew that a drakeling could die trying to be hatched—it wasn’t even that unusual. However, helping a drakeling out of its shell was strictly forbidden. The Academy believed that any dragon who couldn’t be born on his or her own wasn’t worth having.
