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. 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. To her, any second not studying or training was a second wasted. To most pledges, really.

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

"Today, you will decorate your jackets as tributes to your most beloved family member," Instructor Austin announced. "So when you enter the arena, you will carry your family's legacy on your back — a reminder to either train hard or damn your ancestors to eternal shame."

With that, we all took a seat. As we decorated, the conversation shifted to which dragons we hoped to bond with in the arena. While no one knew the official list up for auction yet, rumors were going around. 

The best of every year's cohort was called the Core Four, and apparently, this year's Cour Four was especially promising. Usually, you'd be lucky if there was one hydra in the arena, and this time, there were four, dubbed Blacktooth, Falkin, Sistertooth, and Greyback. 

Of course, those were just their aliases. No one knew the hydras' true names.

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

"Blacktooth?" Bianca said. "Don't be naive, it's obviously Sistertooth. She is only smaller now because she is young, only a fraction of her full size."

Gordo snorted so forcefully that he blew a swath of fabric off the table. "Doubtful. The female of the species is always smaller."

"Like that's something you have to worry about," the Balthasar sitting to Gordo's right said. "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 for the class I missed."

"Half an hour left," Instructor Austen 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 haven't been close with my parents lately. They're not too fond of my career choices."

"Well why the hell not? You're at Skydescent, aren't you? Competing in the famous Blood Moon Festival?"

Bianca twisted some white lace around her ring finger, 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? Send your parents a letter. 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 have to know how to perform womanly duties." She prodded my untouched sewing kit. "Like knit."

I made a face. "Don't you pay somebody else to do the boring stuff? Isn't that the whole point of being rich?"