A story about Sang, the first ever female to receive the mark of a dragon. Entering a world where males reign supreme, she struggles to prove that a woman has what it takes to be a great rider. Even if the dragon she's paired with is stubborn, moody...
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"Today we will be testing you on your physical endurance," Monroe announced. His aged and haggard face was set calmly, all for the benefit of the crowd no doubt, but I could still see a certain spark in his eyes.
"Separately, you will be graded on skill, courage, and strategy," he continued when I stayed silent. The weight of my weapons was a welcomed comfort as I stared blankly ahead, listening to him prattle on. The Blackbourne team was sitting to the left, packed within a crowd of faces sneering down on me. Henry and Janice were also there, while Wil and Derek sat among a class of wolf shifters. The only thing missing was Gideon, a furious dragon who wasn't allowed to be there.
A dragon who was locked up to keep him from harming an entire arena full of students who were overly-anxious to watch me fail.
"Little One," he rumbled, a bitter wrath present in his voice. He felt confined. Trapped. His talons were out, sinking deep into the dirt ground beneath him. My legs twitched with a desperate need to go to him.
"I'm sorry, Gideon. I didn't have a choice." Monroe forced me to cage him—my own dragon. It was either that, or be exiled from the Academy for failing my test.
"Little One not to blame," he said, his voice strained. I fought against Monroe's wishes, but the moment I spoke a word of protest, he was throwing out the threat of being banished. In the end, Gideon and I both knew that we needed to follow along. For now. "I will be watching. Guiding."
The conversation was over, but that didn't stop me from soothing him through the bond before concentrating back on Monroe. Trying not to allow Gideon's feelings impair my ability to focus, I let councleman's instructions wash over me.
"Your task is to dual with mastering students of each of the main combat techniques. Sword-work, hand to hand combat, and last, magic."
The crowd went completely silent and I couldn't stop myself from looking up in Owen's direction. I was resentful over his earlier behavior, but he was liaison for a reason, and I would follow him as long as I was in his care.
His eyes, the same steel color of many weapons forged in Henry's shop, burned into Monroe with a fury that shocked me. Those eyes then turned on me, and deep in my gut, I knew something wasn't right.
"Magic is normally thrown out from these matches, Ghostbird," a voice that matched the mysterious hooded figure's whispered. My eyes frantically searched the crowd until I found the the same figure up at the top of the stands, covered completely in a cloak. Much like last time, no one heard the words but me. My only feat was being able to decipher that it was a woman, an older one at that.
"Gideon, can you see her?" I needed him to tell me I wasn't going mad, that I wasn't the only one who could see, hear, and feel her presence.
I got a snarl in response as his agitation rose, his wings expanding as he prowled back and forth in his cage. Right as he was about to take off, he realized that taking flight would do him more harm than good. That made him even more agitated.
