The Dragon Games

Night Out

A fist pounded on my chamber door, waking me. I groaned, rolling over to cover my head with a pillow. Someone else could let Gordo in. He often stayed out late, claiming to be on wild rendezvous with a whore named Clementia, when in reality he practiced in the sparring room. 

I only discovered this fact after he had returned to our chambers, bloody and armed, and Bianca shrieked so loud she woke the Tudors on the top floor. 

Gordo killed Clementia! Gordo murdered his whore in cold blood!

But to my surprise, Gordo sat up in bed, his hair sticking out in a hundred spikes, and growled, "Who the hell is knocking at this hour?"

Elio and Bianca sat up, too. Then we all turned to the door, the same thought on our minds. Balthasar. Everyone drew a weapon, and Gordo crossed the floor, slowly opening the door — to reveal a Tudor grad.

"Get dressed and meet in the commons in five minutes," he said. "And don't bring any weapons." Before we could ask any questions, the grad slammed the door shut.

"Five minutes?" Bianca said, rooting through her night stand. "That's not enough time to prepare! If we are getting tested, we should have been informed with at least a day's notice."

"What do you need a day for?" Gordo snorted. "To comb all your long, luscious locks?"

Scowling, Bianca whipped around, only to stop short at the sight of him strapping a sword to his back. "The grad said no weapons."

"Try telling that to our resident demon."

Bianca glanced at me and groaned. "Raven, he said no weapons."

I glanced up from the third blade I was tucking my the boot, my brows knitting together in confusion. "Then how am I supposed to stab people?"

"You're not supposed to stab people..."

"Oh. You mean I should choke them?"

"Something small and concealable won't hurt," Elio cut in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "It's better than walking in defenseless. Who knows what we could be facing."

In the commons, the only people outside of their chambers were pledges and the grad who had knocked on our door. Once we were all accounted for, he snuck us through Skydescent's long, empty corridors to reach the gardens, where the other squads' pledges already awaited, nearly all one hundred and twenty eight competitors. 

One grad from ever squad stood at the front of the group, holding a torchlight. None of them were captains.

"Today is your last night of freedom, pledges," the Windsor grad told the crowd. "Tomorrow is the auction, and the day after that, you enter the arena – and for all you know, you may never make it out! That is why we bestow upon you one night of adventure out in the town before your impending doom!"

I glanced around the crowd, just to double check that I wasn't crazy and hearing things. The other pledges looked just as surprised as I did.

"One last night of fun before you become adults!" the Windsor continued. "One last –"

"You guys aren't captains!" a boy shouted from the crowd. "Who gave you permission to bestow anything upon us?"

The Steward made a crude gesture. "Your mother, after I left her bed chambers."

The boy's face turned the color of plums. "This is a farce!" he bellowed.

"Alright!" the Balthasar grad said, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "This is a gift, not a punishment. If you want to enjoy your last night of freedom, follow us! If not, leave. We won't miss you."