The Dragon Games

Tudor's Manor

When we arrived, Duke Tudor was away on business – the gentleman's way of saying he got drunk and passed out in another brothel. His maid let us into the manor, casting a wary look at me and my neck tattoo, but keeping her mouth shut. I tried to ask Cassian what happened to the other pledges, but he waved me off and locked himself in the master study to send ravens to the duke and his closets allies.

In the mean time, I wandered through Duke Tudor's armory until I found a couple of blades to defend myself with until my divine recovered. Then I dressed my wounds and grabbed a loose shirt and britches from Duke Tudor's closet. I wound a belt tight to make his waist band fit my hips – not too tight, though. I planned to eat half my body weight in the kitchen.

"Pledges aren't allowed to bring food into the arena anymore?" the maid asked, giving me the stink eye as she brought me my third plate of food.

"We are," I replied between spoonfuls of stew. I'd have to stop soon, lest I make myself sick and toss everything back up. "But my group lost our supplies in a pond on the first day."

The maid squinted at me. "Why on earth would you go swimming?"

"I don't know, the water called to us, I suppose."

The door rang, its iron handle clanging against the heavy wood frame. The maid turned for the door, but I held up a hand, stopping her in her tracks. Something in my expression made her pale. She turned even lighter when I unsheathed my dagger.

"Hey," she hissed. "There is no fighting in the duke's halls!"

"The fight is already upon us," I said.

"But–"

"Go."

She froze. Then she turned on her heel and ran out the back exit, her long skirts billowing behind her. I light-footed my way to the door, making sure I made no noise, then peered through the eye hole. Through the small gap, I could just make out a strong jaw, windswept hair, and warm brown skin.

I opened the door to find Atlas Windsor standing on Duke Tudor's front steps. When he saw me, his eyes brightened, and a crooked grin broke across his face. "Raven Black," he said, his eyes dancing. "I knew I had a good feeling about you."

—-----

I thought I ate an obscene amount of food, but Atlas put my appetite to shame within minutes of entering the kitchen. He wolfed down plate after plate, his fork never at rest for longer than a second, like he had ten stomachs, which each had ten more stomachs. I sipped some water, stalling. It took me the full glass to work up the nerve to ask my question, and the whole time, Bianca's face was burned into my mind.

"So," I said. "Any news on the other pledges?"

"Well –" Atlas grimaced, swallowing another fork full. "After the wyvern killed Blacktooth, that only left three hydras left, and you'll never guess who Sistertooth bonded with."

"You?"

Atlas snorted, shaking his head. "Gordo. I got Falkin."

"Gordo!" I burst out, so surprised that I didn't even comment on Atlas getting the second strongest dragon in the arena. "You're having me on."

"I wish," he said, barley restraining a laugh. "As for the others, Grace Midlands had not managed to bond with any dragon, but luckily – her captain's words, not mine – her poor performance caused her grandsire's heart to collapse, and his will bequeathed her a fierce fey. Should she survive her injures, that is. Apparently, a tree did a number on her. Anyway, I bonded with Falkin, then Edmund bonded with Greyback – the worst hydra, even before losing an eye." Atlas grinned wide, raising his brows at me. "Nice shot, by the way."