Please note: this is a third-draft story but is not revised. More than a century ago, dragons and the blue-eyed Shaderi flew together. Then they were brought down by jealous men who feared their power. Now blue eyes are a curse and dragons are a laughingstock, neither seen outside of slavery. Born a slave, her fair features mark her as a witch who is worth less than even the right to a name. He is a dragon who was raised in the arena, a life that left him unable either to fly or to breathe fire. Thrown together by an ambitious showman, they are united by a bond as old as the legends. Together, they have a hope for something more than the lives to which they were born, if only they can learn to trust each other. The words of a mysterious minstrel point them west, where rumors say their people live in freedom. The road there is hard, and at the end of it they find themselves a world embroiled in a secret war. This new world is ruled by a king who values tradition above all else. At every turn their new friendship is tested, and they are forced to decide how much they are willing to pay for a place to call home. He wants to help her learn the truth of where she came from, and she wants to give him what every dragon deserves: a chance to soar.

"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.