The Dragon Games

The Rules II

We rested midway through the journey, and while Cassian pissed in the woods, I haggled with a street vendor, trading the last of my pocket change for a bottle of rum. Not my best negotiating, but I only had one possession I couldn't afford to lose.

I touched Sammy's locket every now and then, just to be sure it hadn't ghosted me like he did. My mouth twisting, I took another swig of rum. Suddenly, I realized someone was watching me. Cassian had returned, his stare pinned on the bottle.

I nodded in greeting, whipping my mouth on the cuff of my jacket. "Want some?"

"Sure," Cassian said. As soon as I handed the bottle over, he chucked it into the woods.

I gaped at him, horrified.

"Black, do you –"

"My rum!" I cried.

Cassian all but rolled his eyes. "Do you have any idea how unprofessional that is? No pledge would be caught within fifty feet of a bottle on their first day at Skydescent."

"But... my rum..."

Cassian was already striding past me, grumbling, "Welcome to Skydescent."

"I don't think you understand what you're walking into," Cassian said, once we were back in the carriage. The horse pulled us down the road, the dirt path less rocky than our conversation.

"I didn't realize it was so bad," I said. The orphanage handed out drinks like candy, as rewards for finishing chores or a quick way to shut the criers up. 'If the budget is between buying food or buying medicine,' the caretakers would say, 'why let the children starve when ale is ten times cheaper than pain relief?' Made perfect sense to me.

"It's not just about the rum," Cassian said. "You are an anomaly. The majority of pledges were not handed an entry into the Blood Moon Festival. They were scouted young and spent their childhoods turning themselves into weapons. In their eyes, you committed crimes deserving the death sentence and got awarded with the very thing they worked their entire lives for."

I frowned, still sad about the rum.

"But," Cassian said. "There are work-arounds. It's common knowledge that a raider was given a parlay, but no one knows which raiders. Only Leon Bates and I know who you truly are. If you want a fair chance at Skydescent, pick a new name and leave 'Raven Black' in the dungeons."

"But what's my name got to do with it? People know me by my alias. Raven Black has nothing to do with Crenshaw's Pet, Nine, or the raiders."

"Yes, but your name has certain ... connotations." He tugged the back of his nape, not quite meeting my eyes. "Others might make connections."

"I'm not ashamed of who I am," I said irritably. Every orphan, bastard, and unwanted child gets the same last name – Black. And my first name came about because the head caretaker was a raging bird enthusiasts. She liked to name the babies crap like Flamingo and Parrot and Bar-tailed Godwit and whatnot.

"But are you willing to die for it?"

I startled at that. "I thought violence wasn't allowed at Skydescent. The knights could hit me because they're not competing. Another pledge couldn't have done that."

"Violence is banned outside of sparring matches and training, but there is a difference between what is allowed and what actually occurs, between playing by the rules and playing fair. There will be pledges who get away with things that'd send you straight to the noose. A little shame never killed anyone." Cassian caught my eye meaningfully. "In your case, it might even save your life."

"I guess... " I could change my name, stop drinking, and jump through whatever hoop Cassian gave me, but I couldn't become a different person in the length of a carriage ride. If my success depended on my ability to blend in with the elites, I might as well tie my own noose. Best case scenario, there would be other parlays around to share the target.

"Look, if you're ever confused about how to act, think of what a raider would do –"

Sighing, Cassian grabbed my wrist, pushing my dagger away from my mouth. I had been trying to pick a loose thread of meat. Apparently, elites prefer dirty teeth.

"— and then do the opposite. If you don't know what to say, 'I'm keeping my head down' and 'I'm just grateful to be here' are your two best friends. And if you're hiding something, now is the time to say to come clean, before we arrive at Skydescent. Is there anything from your past – personal or raider – that will cause trouble?"

I eyed Cassian at length, wondering how much I could trust him.

"Anything?" he prompted.

I offered him a lopsided grin, deciding to save my crippling fear of heights for another day. "I'm just keeping my head down, grateful to be here."

The carriage turned, cutting our conversation short. We neared heavy bronze gates engraved with the king's sigil, and when Cassian called out his name, knights opened the gate for him. The winding dirt path stopped at the edge of a lake, where large groups of pledges crowded the shore by the thousands.

I turned to Cassian, my posture tense. The more competitors, the harder it will be to win. "How many pledges are competing in the Blood Moon Festival?"

"Each squad is limited to taking thirty-two pledges into the arena, so this crowd will be whittled down to a hundred and twenty-eight by the end of the night."

Frowning, I turned back to the massive crowd, eyeing my competition. The vast majority were fit young men, tall and bulking. I was not only smaller than them, but on the younger side too. Since the maximum age was eighteen, most pledges joined just shy of their nineteenth nameday to give themselves the greatest advantage.

Unbidden, my hand wandered to the tattoo hidden below the high collar of my uniform. Once, flashing that tattoo struck fear into peoples' hearts, making them bend over backward to win my favor. Now, it would have the opposite effect, making me a walking target.

No unwarranted violence, I reminded myself — just as a blood-curdling scream rang out across the lake.