The Dragon Games

Not Atlas Steward

While a knight investigated our chamber, Cassian, Bianca, Gordo, Elio, and I sat in the hall. "Tell the knight who your father is," Gordo hissed at Elio. "If he thinks his job is on the line –"

"If my Leon was here, he'd tell me to solve my own problems," Elio said. "He'd ring my neck if I used his name like that."

"But–"

"No," Elio said, so sharply that we all looked up. 

We had lived with him for months now, but until that moment, none of us had ever heard him so much as raise his voice. In the dark of the hall, he might have even looked scary — had I not seen his performance on the training field.

The door opened, and out stepped the knight.

Cassian stood up. "Well?"

Expulsion was out of the question, but hopefully, a couple of Balthasars would get suspended for a few weeks.

"After careful investigation," the knight said. "I've determined that there is no evidence of the Balthasars' involvement."

Cassian's jaw clenched. "Then who is the culprit?" 

"Perhaps a strong gust of wind?" The knight turned to me, the corner of his mouth twitching. "In the future, I'd recommend fastening your windows before departing."

Gordo shot to his feet. Elio and I each grabbed one of his arms, yanking him back down. We were in enough trouble as it was. Our wrecked chamber was just a warning shot, the precursor to the real violence.

"Should I call someone else in?" Cassian said. "Someone who will actually do their job?"

"You're lucky anyone showed up at all," the knight replied. "The knights are meant to stop crimes, not youthful hijinks."

"Youthful hijinks?" Cassian echoed, his eyes wide. "I thought it was the wind!"

As Cassian and the knight argued back and forth, I glanced at the scared, furious faces surrounding me. "Are you sure you want me in your group?"

"No," Elio said dully, but there was no real heat behind it. 

Bianca cuffed him on the back of the head and gave a speech about friendship. 

Gordo shot me a murderous look, as if to say, my swords did not get manured for nothing. You will get me a powerful dragon if it is the last thing you do. "You're staying, Black."

So I stayed.

As Blood Fest neared, autumn faded into winter. The trees became dark and spindly, the nights grew dark and long, and the scalding heat gave way to cool mornings. A relief, now that I spent all my time outdoors. Since I was banned from using any divine until Blood Fest, the archery field became my new best friend, eating up all my spare time. 

There was probably some proper way to position my crossbow against my shoulder or align my feet with the target, but I learned through stubbornness, like bashing a square peg through a round hole. I would keep at it until I hit my target, then set a smaller target the next day.

I had just lined up the scope of my crossbow when a rider from squad Steward entered the field. He was tall and handsome and carried himself like he knew just how tall and handsome he was. 

I ignored him, figuring he would take one of the five empty plots near the entrance. There was an unspoken rule not to get too close to the raider, especially after the mountain. But to my surprise, he took the plot next to mine.

"I didn't come here to shoot bullseyes," he said.

I glanced at him, my eyes as cold as the crossbow resting on my cheek. "So what did you come here to shoot?"

"My gods, woman, not you," he said. "I'm the one who caught you in the mountains, remember? You swooned in my arms? I understand the confusion, though. You probably mistook me for an angel, carrying you up to heaven."

I stared at him, my brows high . After Blacktooth left, my memory faded. Everything after crawling out of the bushes was one hazy blur, but on second glance, there was something vaguely familiar about his strong jaw, windswept hair, and warm brown skin. 

He was the one that carried me down the mountain after I passed out, then proceeded to make a dozen jokes about me already 'falling' for him. I probably would have found them funnier if I hadn't been bleeding out dying at the time.

"You're right," I said. "That was exactly it."

His grin widened, and he stuck out his hand. "I'm Atlas Steward."

"Atlas Steward? You mean you fly for House Steward?"

"No, Duke Steward is my father."

"Another House heir." I smiled stiffly, trying to mask my annoyance. "I didn't realize there were so many among the pledges."

"Just Edmond and I. And soon Grace, I suppose. She's trying to marry into House Windsor, but no matter. As long as there are no more Balthasars, I couldn't be happier."

I kept up the smile, not saying a word. I don't know what a duke's son hopes to accomplish by budding up with me, but it can't be anything good.

"Anyways, I came to give you a gift." 

Atlas pulled a silk parcel from his jacket, unraveling it to reveal a vial filled with shimmering purple liquid. "This vial is filled with venom from my father's dragon. Just a drop is powerful enough to stun even a hydra." 

Then he spoke of how humble he would be if I accepted it, with a tone that assumed my acceptance was a given.

"This will be a great asset during Blood Fest," I said. 

 It opened up a world of possibilities: stun an attacking dragon, capture a dragon to bond with, sell the poison and pocket the profit. 

I narrowed my eyes at Atlas. "So why give it to me?"

His answering smile oozed charm. "Perhaps seeing you perish would be more than I could bear. Perhaps your bright blue eyes have haunted me since bidding night." 

He started to tuck a flyaway strand behind my ear, but I caught his wrist before he could get close.

"Charming," I said. If this Atlas kid was 'in love' with me, I wasn't above leveraging his feelings to further my own survival, but clearly, he was not. I don't know whose baby blues have been haunting him since bidding night, but they sure as hell weren't my greys. "But I don't accept favours when I can't see the strings attached."

I watched him, waiting for the inevitable temper tantrum that follows a duke's son not getting his way, but Atlas barely even paused. 

"Well," he said, lowering his voice a pitch. "There is also the matter of politics. House Steward and House Balthasar haven't been on the best of terms as of late – or ever, really – and you know what they say. The enemy of my enemy and all." 

His mouth curved, the sun catching the whites of his teeth. "If nothing else, helping the raider that robbed House Balthasar and crippled their squad would give my father a good laugh."

This time, I accepted the vial. "You should have led with that."

"Aw, but it's so impersonal. It makes us seem like pieces on a board, only moved for the sake of politics."

"What else would you be at Court? At least you get some say in how the pieces move." I pinched the vial between my fingers, examining the liquid as it sparkled under the sun. "You don't expect me to kill Edmond, do you?"

"No. Of course not."

I frowned at the amusement in his voice. "I am not going to kill Edmond."

"Of course not," he repeated with a wink. "Nor did you kill those Balthasars on the mountain."

"I am not killing anyone." I don't know how much clearer I could say it. Was this how Cassian felt speaking to me?

"I understand you perfectly. Just like my name is not Atlas Steward."

"You say you understand, but I fear you don't."

Atlas was laughing as he strode away, his dark hair blowing in the wind. "Bad luck at the auction tomorrow, Miss Black! I hope not to see you soon!"