The Dragon Games

Parlay

As Leon stormed up the stairs, I was a little sickened by how much I wanted to call him back.

Years on the streets — begging, battering, and conning for every scrap of food I could get — wired my brain to put survival above all else.

Despite the bored front I put up, with every breath, I fought my instincts not to pounce at any chance at survival.

Even The Bind and thirty years of hard labor was better than dead. The door changed hands, as Leon left the dungeon and the torturer entered. With every step the torturer drew closer, my chest tightened, my heart quickening. The staircase was too dark to see more than his silhouette.

"So you're willing to die to protect Samuel Crenshaw?" he said.

His voice echoed off the walls, oddly bright for someone in his grim occupation. Or perhaps he was a sadist, and he was amused because of his occupation.

"Ay," I said.

"And you hate being called Crenshaw's pet?"

"Ay."

"And you don't see the irony in that?"

I blinked, taken aback. "No," I snapped.

He stepped into the light, revealing a young face, early twenties at most. He wore knee high boots and a leather jacket stitched with two symbols: the king's sigil and an elaborate "T."

This was no torturer. This was the standard uniform of a dragon rider – a real dragon rider, of the king's high court. In my sixteen years, I had never seen a legitimate rider up close, and a grimy dungeon was the last place I expected to break the streak.

"You are not the torturer," I said stupidly.

His mouth curved. "Is that who you thought I was?"

He introduced himself as Cassian Evans, rider of House Tudor, and captain of his squad.

"I am not your enemy," he said. "I'm not asking you to turn on anyone, nor would it benefit you. Even if you could tell me where Samuel or Drax are, even if you could knock every name off the king's wanted list, the court wants you dead for your crimes, and nothing you say will change that fact. Only one thing, and one thing alone, can save you now. The Divine. Using the Divine to earn a parlay."

"A parlay?"

"It's an exemption from capital punishment, given to remorseful individuals whose talent outweighs the risk of keeping them alive." His lips curved, revealing a glint of pearly white teeth. "In other words, you won't have to undergo The Bind or spend any time in dungeons. A parlay is a one-way ticket out of the gallows, a sure bet to save your neck."

I stared at him, my heart pounding against my chest. Was this why Leon had pushed me to accept his deal, so I wouldn't have the chance to hear Cassian's? I couldn't believe my drastic change in fortunes; there had to be a catch.

"And you'd give it to me?" I asked.

Cassian shrugged. "You're young, trainable, powerful. That's not to say it'll be easy. The gallows are easy. Earning a parlay? Now that's hard."

"What would I have to do?"

He caught my eye, his stare burning into mine. "The blood moon rises."

My stomach dropped to the floor.

And there it was.

The catch.

"I take it you've heard of the Blood Moon Festival?" Cassian said.

I nodded. Of course I had heard of it. Even kingdoms on the other side of the world were aware of the yearly competition to select the next generations of dragon riders.

"What do you know of it?" Cassian said.

"Only winners of the qualifying tournaments and court favorites are allowed to compete — the sons and daughters of the most powerful people in the kingdom. Normal people are never handed a free invitation to compete. Especially not criminals with neck tattoos."

"Some competitors are tenth-generation legacies, rich beyond your wildest dreams," Cassian said. "Others from less – ahem – savory circumstances, gain entry a different way. Provided the right amount of talent, any background can be overlooked."

I squinted at Cassian. I wasn't talented enough for the court to overlook my crimes. No one was that talented.

"I was one such individual," Cassian said. "I grew up in a small village on the coast of nothing, just off the shore of nowhere. But when I passed the DRA, everything changed. I was the first in my family to leave my village; the first to own a house, to buy my spouse a ring made out of gold."

He stopped short, raising his eyebrows at me.

"But that is nothing compared to what the parlay would do for you," he said. "If you succeed in bonding with a dragon, then you can buy back your freedom in exchange for seven years flying for the king's guard, one year for the king for every year you were a raider. A year for a year, that's more than fair."

I was desperate to live, to find Sammy, and get our life back. Aside from the obvious, I would agree to anything, anything over the gallows. But still, I couldn't force a yes from my lips.

It was like I needed a dagger pressed against my throat first.

"Is there anything else?" I said.

"What do you mean? Any other requirements?"

"Any other ways I could earn a parlay," I clarified. "I'm sorry, Cassian. I'm grateful, I really am, but... but you said it yourself, I'm young, trainable, powerful. There's no other way I could earn a parlay?"

Cassian blinked. That was not the response he was expecting. Most young people would jump at the chance to become a dragon rider. Hell, they'd cut off their own hands just for a shot at the fame and glory, and here I was, on death's door, refusing him.

"I'm afraid not," Cassian said. "You fly for the king or swing for him."

He studied my with a long, cool stare, then frowned, as if I had failed some test.

"Well," he said with a heavy sigh. "I see you made up your mind. Though it pains me, I will respect your choice and inform Leon at once. I will implore him to pick a less excruciatingly painful execution than the one he has in mind, but I can promise nothing in terms of results."

I stared at Cassian in shock, and only when he had crossed the dungeon floor did I find my tongue.

"Wait!" I shouted, shooting to my feet. "I'll do it, I'll fly!"

Cassian stopped, his back to me.

I cleared my throat and tried again. This time, in a somewhat sane voice. "I'll do it."

Cassian turned, his brow raised faintly at my outburst. "What's your real name?"

"Regan. Regan Black."

"Alright, then." Cassian grinned so wide he practically split his face in two. A moment too late, I realized I had fallen for a bluff – hook, line, and sinker. "I'll see you shortly, Regan Black."