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. "If he thinks his job is on the line –"

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

"But–"

"No," Elio said sharply. His father seemed to rattle him more than what happened to our chamber. Just then, the knight swung open the door, stepping into the hallway.

Cassian stood. "Well?"

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

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 you depart."

Gordo shot to his feet. Elio and I grabbed one of his arms, yanking him back down. We were in enough trouble as it was. Our wrecked chambers was just a warning shot, the precuser 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 criminals, not youthful hijinks."

"Youthful hijinks?" Cassian said, his jaw ticking. "I thought it was the wind."

As Cassian and the knight bickered 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.

"Of course," Bianca said, scowling at him.

And Gordo shot me a murderlous look, as if to say, my nude sculptures did not get beheaded for nothing. You will get me a powerful dragon if it is the last thing you do. "You are staying, Black."  

So I stayed. And as Blood Fest neared, summer faded into autumn. The trees darkened into a dusty red, the nights grew darker and longer, 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 the Divine until Blood Fest, the archery field became my new best friend, eating up all my spare time.

There was probably some correct way to position my crossbow, some proper grip I should be using, 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 harder target the following 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 into my arms? I understand the confusion, though. You probably mistook me for an angel, carrying you up to heaven."

My mouth twitched. After Blacktooth left, my memory faded; everything after crawling out of the bushes was one hazy blur. But on a second glance, there was something vaguely familiar about his strong jaw, windswept hair, and warm brown skin.

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

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

I matched his grin and shook his hand. "Regan Black." It was nice to have a friendly conversation with a stranger. Most pledges shunned me as soon as they saw my tattoo. Suddenly, I dropped his hand, truly hearing his name. "Atlas Steward? You mean you fly for House Steward?"

"No, Duke Steward is my father."

"Another House heir," I said with a stiff smile, trying to mask my annoyance. Just like that, my guard was back up. "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 smiled passively, not saying a word. I didn't know what a Duke's son hoped to accomplish by budding up with me, but it couldn't be anything good. Perhaps goad me into bad-mouthing the Balthasars and stir up more trouble?

"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. It's powerful enough to stun even a hydra."

Then he spoke of how humble he would be if I accepted it, with an air 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 posion and pocket the profit. I narrowed my eyes at Atlas. "So why would you give it to me?"

His answering smile oozed charm, overflowed with it. "Perhaps seeing you perish would be more than I could bear. Perhaps your stormy grey eyes have haunted me since you tossed Tobias Faraway across the mess hall like a rag doll."

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 his flattery came too easily for any real sincerity. "But I have to decline. I don't accept favors when I can't see the strings attached."

Atlas paused, as if he was reconsidering his strategy.

"Well," he hedged. "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 is my friend. If nothing else, helping the raider that robbed House Balthasar and crippled their squad would give my father a good laugh."

I pinched the vial between my fingers, watching the liquid sparkle under the sun. "You don't expect me to kill Edmond, do you?"

"No." A slow grin spread over Atlas' lips. "Of course not."

"I am not going to kill Edmond," I said bluntly.

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

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

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

I frowned, squinting at him. "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 to not see you soon!"