I thought it was a stupid policy myself, but it hadn’t worried me before. L’eesha always sounded so feisty whenever I talked to her, I had never doubted she would be able to get herself hatched when the time came. But now she sounded so faint…so terribly exhausted.
“please, my Auri…help…so tired…” she whispered in my mind.
Every muscle in my body ached with tension. I wanted to rip open the shell and cradle her in my arms, but I was forbidden to!
Ryse was still frowning.
“Sometimes the smaller eggs have thicker shells,” he murmured. “The drakelings have a harder time getting out.”
“I’m not supposed to help her…but I’m so afraid she’s going to die,” I whispered to Ryse as tears stung my eyes. “She’s calling for me—she needs me!”
“Look back and tell me if Master Yarsmouth or anyone else is watching us,” he murmured.
I cast a glance over my shoulder. Earlier the Master of the Hatching Grounds had been frowning at us in disapproval. However, now he was crouched over a bright green egg that was rocking wildly in the sands. No one else seemed to be watching either—they were all engrossed in their own hatching eggs.
“No—no one’s watching,” I told him.
“Good.” Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a familiar object. It was a small but heavy paperweight in the shape of a dragon I’d seen on his desk earlier, beside the ancient texts he’d gotten from the library. It was made of stone and it was just the right size to fit in the palm of his big hand.
My eyes widened as I realized that he’d brought it along on purpose—probably just for this reason.
“Keep an eye out,” he muttered to me. “Tell me if someone starts looking.”
Then he reached out and hit the apex of the golden egg with the dragon paperweight.
It was a precise and controlled blow—just enough to make a tiny, hairline crack appear in the golden shell.
“Hang on, L’eesha,” I whispered to my dragon, sending hope and strength to my little one. “Hang on—I’m coming!”
Ryse hit the golden shell twice more, until a spider web of cracks was running through the whole top half of the egg. Then he slipped the paperweight back into his pocket.
“That’s as much as I can do,” he murmured to me. “I’ve weakened the shell but your drakeling has to break through herself. If she doesn’t, her blood won’t circulate right, and her wings might die so she’ll never fly.”
The thought of a flightless dragon was terrible and heartbreaking. So though I wanted to beg him to actually break the shell all the way open, I knew he couldn’t.
Instead, I put a hand on the cracked shell and pushed as much strength as I could into the tiny drakeling within.
“Try again, sweetheart!” I begged. “Try again—we’ve weakened the shell. You should be able to get through.”
“so…tired,” I heard her whispered piteously.
“I know you’re tired, but I have some delicious meat waiting for you,” I told her. I nodded at Ryse who went to get a bowl from the table. “So tasty and juicy. I know you’re hungry, but you have to come out to get it.”
I felt a flare of interest from the little drakeling inside the egg.
“will try again,” she informed me.
And then I heard a tapping—faint but audible—coming from inside the shell.
“That’s right—good girl! Come out to me!” I urged. With all my might, I pushed strength and encouragement and love, cradling the golden egg in my lap as she pecked at the inside.
At last, just as Ryse returned with a bowl of fresh raw meat, I saw a small triangular piece of shell fall to the sands below.
“That’s right—that’s right, you’re doing it! Don’t give up!” I exclaimed.
Ryse frowned as he crouched beside me and picked up the piece of shell, which was about half the size of his palm.
“I was right—this is twice as thick as the other eggs’ shells! No wonder she’s having a hard time.”
