The Dragon Games

Legacy

 When we entered our second class of the day, Instructor Austen's room had been transformed. Every table was pushed to the middle of the room, forming a long decorating station. 

Large baskets sat between every two chairs, with every fabric, lace, and string imaginable, complete with sowing sets and glittering emblems.

"Arts and crafts?" Bianca said, her brow wrinkling. In her eyes, any second not studying or training was a second wasted.

I shrugged, eager to take anything over another lecture. "Could be a nice change of pace. Take a load of stress off our shoulders."

"You will decorate your jackets as tributes to your most beloved family member," Instructor Austin told the Tudors. "So you enter the arena carrying your family's legacy on your back. Train hard or bring shame upon your ancestors and forever tarnish thy name."

With that, we took our seats. As the Tudors decorated, the conversation shifted to which dragons they hoped to bond with in the arena. While no one knew the official list up for auction yet, rumors were swirling around. 

The best of the best were called the Golden Three, and apparently, this year's Golden Three were especially promising. There were three hydras in the arena, dubbed Blacktooth, Sistertooth – Blacktooth's sister – and Greyback. And of course, those were just aliases, not the hydra's true names.

"Undoubtedly, the crown jewel is Blacktooth," Gordo declared. "Then Greyback, then Sistertooth."

"Has sense abandoned you?" Elanor cried. "Sistertooth is the crown jewel! She is only smaller now because she is young, a mere fraction of her full size."

"Doubtful," Gordo scoffed. "The females of the species are always smaller."

"Like that's something you have to worry about," the Balthasar sitting to Gordo's right said. "Everyone knows the crown jewel of Blood Fest always goes to a Balthasar, and Blacktooth has Edmond Balthasar's name written all over it."

The conversation screeched to a halt. Gordo did a double take. "What the hell? When did a Balthasar spawn at our table?"

"Not by choice," the Balthasar sniffed. "I'm making up the class I missed."

"Half an hour left," Instructor Austin called from her desk.

My jacket was still blank. I glanced at Bianca, who was nearly halfway done with her design, while I had yet to pick up a needle. "Who are you dedicating your jacket to?"

"My aunt," Bianca replied. "I'm not close with my parents as of late. They're not too fond of my career choice."

"Why the hell not? You're at Skydescent, aren't you? The famous Blood Moon Festival?"

Bianca twisted some white lace around her finger like a ring, only to yank it off. "Good daughters don't ride dragons. They marry rich heirs to secure their family's finances."

"A lifetime of pampering and ease?" I said. "Send your parents a letter. Tell them I'll be their good daughter."

"Good daughters don't sleep with rusty shanks under their pillows."

"I can clean my shanks."

"They haven't committed a list of crimes taller than they are."

"I can wear heels."

Bianca's lips twitched. "You've got to know how to do your womanly duties." She prodded my untouched sewing kit. "Like knit."

I made a face. "Don't you make the servants do the boring stuff? Isn't that the whole point of being rich?"