2

Raiya

The Hatching Ceremony was tomorrow, and Ashari worked everyone harder than usual to ensure that everything would be perfect. Raiya had found herself part of a team of three other servant girls who were tasked with preparing Lady Khan, commonly called Lady Denali by the others now, for the feast tonight and the one tomorrow. While tonight’s feast would celebrate the tributes and the hope for few casualties, the one for tomorrow would celebrate all the newly Bonded pairs. Many were more excited for tomorrow and Denali was surely no exception. Raiya could tell that she already envisioned herself seated at the great table, speaking triumphantly about her Bonding with the newly hatched Queen.

Thus, when the serving girls arrived at her door to prepare her, they soon found that despite her excitement and assurance, she was extremely hard to please. Within moments of stepping into the room, the servant girls found themselves constantly running around and preparing things to her exact satisfaction. The water in the bath was not hot enough, fetch her more hot water. Suddenly, it was too hot! Quickly, throw in some cold water!

So, they ran back and forth, and Raiya began to feel like it was perfectly fine to dislike this haughty girl who exuded nothing but contempt for those around her. The Khan family, the oldest bloodline in existence, was infamous for being haughty, power-hungry, egomaniacs. Raiya had come to understand that the Khans were not like the other easterners because of this.

After her bath, they were now helping Denali dress for the feast. Raiya was tasked with brushing and styling her thick, black hair while the other three were preparing her garments, doing her makeup, and massaging her feet.

“I want a single, thick braid,” Denali said suddenly. Throughout the evening, no one except for Denali broke the silence and she only did so to issue commands. It was always startling for the serving girls who often fell into a trance as they did their jobs, so Raiya absentmindedly nodded her head. “Did you hear me?” she asked, irritation clear in her voice.

Raiya, upon realizing her mistake, quickly murmured her acknowledgement. Even if Denali might have seen her nod in the mirror that she was currently using to admire herself, it was still rude to not speak when spoken to by the noble.

As Raiya began weaving her wet strands together in a simple tight braid, her eyes moved to the oldest person in the room, a woman named Marigold if Raiya remembered correctly, who was currently trying to figure out all the unknown cosmetic items Denali had brought with her. “I don’t want to look old,” she told the woman and when the woman still continued to stare blankly at the jars of powders and liquids, Denali sighed in exasperation. “Just put some of that gold shimmer powder on my eyes and cheekbones, redden my lips slightly with that ochre, and use that dark kajal to line my eyes like a cat’s.” Denali pointed to each item she stated, and Marigold gratefully acknowledged her instructions, hurriedly laying out the selected products on a small table.

Raiya watched this happen and envied not just Denali but all the other noble girls who could wear cosmetics and use other luxurious goods like sweet-smelling oils and soft creams. Servants would never have that luxury. It wasn’t just a matter of buying the products, but also their station as well. It was frowned upon for a servant to use or wear anything that the middle-to-upper class used and so merchants tended to not sell them to the lower class.

“You are so young and beautiful!” gushed another girl, probably around the same age as Denali, while rubbing her feet. “Do you really need to apply anything to heighten your appearance?”

Raiya inwardly rolled her eyes. She could see Denali’s face in the mirror, her mouth lifting into a smirk as she glanced down at the girl holding her foot.

“Thank you…?” she prompted the girl with the kindest tone Raiya had ever heard from her.

“Gina, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Gina. I am not yet seventeen but am already considered one of the greatest beauties from where I am from. I’m sure you’ve heard much about the beauty of Ioyarians so you should understand what that means. The Khan bloodline has produced many infamous beauties. I’m sure you all know of the most infamous one, Mira Khan. In fact, it is said she was so beautiful that she caused the—ouch!”

Raiya tied the braid neatly, letting it fall over Denali’s shoulder. She might have yanked on the braid unnecessarily when tying it, but honestly it was better than trying to strangle the girl sitting before her with her own braid. The conceited way in which Denali spoke annoyed Raiya greatly.

Denali whipped her head around, nearly getting a streak of black kajal across her face as she glared at the small girl staring back at her with an innocent expression.

“How dare you!” she spat venomously.

Raiya bowed deeply, murmuring apologetically, “I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure it was tight enough so that it didn’t fall apart during the feast. I underestimated my strength.”

Even if that were true, there was no reason Denali would believe that. No, rather, she was the type who once scorned would carry that memory in her heart with a burning vengeance in her mind. Raiya realized then that she had made an enemy tonight, an enemy out of someone who might even be the next Queen flyer and therefore in a great position of power.

“How old are you, girl?” Denali demanded to know. None of the kindness and warmth she had before when talking to Gina was found in her voice now.

“Ten years, my lady.”

“Ten years and making careless mistakes still?” She glanced over the girl’s body, taking note of how it seemed to be going through the physical changes of becoming a woman. “You’ll soon no longer be a child,” she declared, turning back around. “So let me offer you a piece of advice. Those who make careless mistakes do not often survive long enough to see the long-lasting consequences of said mistakes. You can hide behind your age now, but very soon even that innocence will be robbed from you.”

Raiya bowed her head in polite acknowledgement, feeling her face burn from embarrassment at the humiliation she was suffering in front of the other servants. It’s not that she wasn’t used to being reprimanded, but this was different. It wasn’t like Ashari or Sibilla who did it out of love, but someone that had a vendetta to hurt her.

After the girls finished getting Denali ready in tense silence, they were summarily dismissed from her chambers. Filing out in a single line, Raiya as the last person to leave, took one last precursory glance over the woman who was admiring herself in the mirror. Then, she was out, and the door shut behind her. Denali had a bit of time before she had to meet up with the other tributes to walk in together at the feast, but they had no time, hurrying quickly to their next job.

*~*

The kitchen was busy with cooks and other servants bustling around cooking, preparing, and cleaning. Since all the stoves were in use, Raiya felt sweat run down her neck from the heat as her uniform clung to her body. It was so hot that she believed even dragon fire could hold no comparison. She persevered however under the watchful eye of Ashari. Her new job was setting platters and filling pitchers with junara, a popular fermented concoction of fruit and spices that was great both warm and cold. Though she wasn’t allowed to have it yet due to her age, she had snuck in a few sips here and there where she could. It always made her face scrunch up in distaste, wondering why the adults could drink it down so easily. While the first sip was sweet, the lingering bitter tartness and sharpness of the spices made her choke. She also found that it began to dull her senses if she took more than three sips. It seemed more like a punishment than a refreshment.

“Git de fuss plaie out, now!"

There was no mistaking that deep, commanding tone. Raiya quickly picked up the nearest platter that held two pitchers of junara. Ashari, after issuing her command, had moved up the steps to the alcove overlooking the kitchen and proceeded to watch them scramble to fulfill it without bumping into each other, the cooks, or anything else.

The kitchen was connected to the dining hall by a short corridor with two double doors on both sides. Both were open currently, but the kitchen could not see into the dining hall and vice versa. Only the dull chatter of a large crowd could be heard, but even that was muffled by the noises in the kitchen. Raiya and some of the others scurried down the corridor just wide enough to walk in pairs and emerged into the glow of the dining hall. Immediately her ears were assaulted with raucous laughter echoing throughout the room, some people slamming the table amid their glee.

The pairs broke apart, the right row of servants going right and the left going left. The last two would go down the center of the hall and head straight to the table up top where the important people sat. Usually, the more experienced servants were tasked with this position, but somehow Gina and Raiya had ended up as the last two, much to their nervousness. When they arrived at the large table, Gina went right, and Raiya left. Gina would be serving the appetizers and Raiya would be ensuring that the goblets were filled.

As she filled the first goblet, Raiya glanced at the person it belonged to and immediately recognized the boy from before, the flyer of Nymerik. Struggling to keep her mouth from falling open in shock, she stiffly filled his cup. Though she could tell that he recognized her, he did nothing more than smile and nod before resuming his conversation with the older man to his left.

Raiya knew the older man well enough for he had been the one to adopt her alongside Sibilla upon her arrival at the fortress over five years ago. He was the infamous Godrick Wotton, flyer of Nythointan, the General Commander that oversaw the training and flight formations of the squads and former Chief of Dragonspire Fortress.

Godrick should have continued to be the chief, but Nythointan had failed to be present to fly Sibilla’s Queen five years ago and he was snubbed of the position by Ralph Dene. Supporters of Ralph claimed Godrick was too old to be the chief anyhow, but most of the fortress had supported him in his outrage due to his immense experience and successes within the fields of battle and politics. It was said that the fortress had flourished after so long a time under Godrick’s brief leadership.

No one could claim the same for Ralph., heralded as Roderick II. From what Raiya had gathered from overhearing her parents, it was Ralph who was responsible for not enforcing the tithes from the holds and allowing the authority of dragon-flyers to be overruled by the lords of the keeps. Though others were hesitant to accept the support of the other fortresses, Ralph was keen to rely on their generosity despite the steep price Dragonspire would have to pay in the future.

Raiya had never imagined that the towns and keeps would fail to uphold the Accord*, would dare to stand against the fortresses. She wondered what could have possibly emboldened them to behave like this.

After serving the boy and Godrick, and quietly exchanging a few words of greeting with the latter, she moved on to the man in question, the current Chief of Dragonspire, Ralph. He was an impatient man, often fidgeting nervously and eyeing people with suspicion. She had barely managed to prevent the pitcher from spilling the drink onto the table as he snatched up his goblet from underneath, guzzling it down as if he had a thirst that could never be quenched. At the same time, she could feel his eyes burning a hole in her face as he stared at her. She suppressed a shudder of disgust, regretting being in his presence.

He slammed his goblet on the table and gestured for her to pour him another. As she did so, he lazily watched her, a small smile tugging across his face. His beady, brown eyes reminded her of vermin hiding in the dark, waiting to pounce on their unsuspecting prey, waiting for an opportune moment to attack. The image in her head matched perfectly with the Dunarian* man before her, with a swarthy complexion and small frame, he could be aptly described as a rat.

She moved quickly on to the next person, wanting to remove herself from his aggressive gaze. Thankfully, another kind, familiar face was there to greet her.

Sibilla Zaro, the current Chieftess of Dragonspire and flyer of Shegil, had been engaged in conversation with the tall, pale man sitting to her left, but she stopped immediately upon seeing Raiya. Her face broke out into a warm smile, and she fondly grasped the girl’s arm, squeezing gently in greeting.

Much like Godrick, Sibilla had taken the girl under her wing, becoming a strong mother figure for her. Though she was forty, she still retained much of the beauty of her youth. This alongside her immense charm and intellect made her an instant favorite amongst the people who met her, with many respecting her as not just a charismatic chieftess but a respectable herbalist, alchemist, and healer as well. She had led the fortress matters under her authority competently enough for fifteen years since Shegil won the Enthronement against her mother, Shereth. On top of her Chieftess responsibilities, she had personally trained many of the current healers in this generation at not just Dragonspire, but other fortresses as well. What was even more impressive was that she even taught those in the lower class who were interested in the healing arts. The Guild Master of the Healers Guild, Gidian Sumner, approved of his cousin’s decision despite the backlash received from the nobility.

With the new Queen egg hatching tomorrow, Raiya wondered what would happen to Sibilla and Shegil. When the newly hatched Queen came of age, usually after a year, they would have to hold another Enthronement to determine the next chieftess. Shegil, currently titled Empress as the reigning Queen, thanks to Iva’s Queen Rellerth still living in the fortress, would have to win or be retired. At their age, Sibilla and Shegil wouldn’t even be given the option to stay but be forced to retire to the Elysium Isles to spend the rest of their lives in "peace.” Had they been younger, they might have been offered the chance to travel to another fortress like one of the ones abandoned or even stay at Dragonspire with no power, but many of the newer generation felt it was time for those of the older one to slowly relinquish their hold on positions of power.

The same applied to Ralph, almost. If he failed to fly the next Queen when Shegil retired, he would be given the option to join her in the Elysium Isles or join the squads as a Sentinel, a leader of a flight wing since both him and his dragon Mazanth were quite young. It was tradition however for chief and chieftess to retire together for they had most likely forged an inseparable, unique bond full of love, trust, and respect. But everyone knew that Ralph would not join her, and neither would she want him to.

As Raiya moved away from Sibilla, she glanced at both her parents, noticing the covert-filled glances of love and affection the two sent each other. No, because Sibilla’s heart longed for Godrick. Though he had looked for opportunities to have Nythointan mate with Shegil again and again, it had become impossible at this point. Dismayed, the two had remained torn apart in public due to tradition. Only the Chief and Chieftess were allowed to be together for the strength of the mating between their dragons formed a bond so strong and vivid that it bled onto their flyers, linking their emotions to what they were feeling between the four. This strong union was necessary to present a solid, unified front to others who looked upon the fortress for its leadership and guidance. If they could not get along, it would indicate weakness and the fortress would suffer under the neglect that comes from the two that would strike constantly at each other.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

While Sibilla and Godrick were lucky enough to have fallen for each other and been given the opportunity to share in their feelings, when Godrick was snubbed of his position, he also lost the privilege of publicly being with Sibilla. Ralph was now the only one allowed to be with her, but he had shown no interest in the woman nearly twice his age and she would never have allowed him into her bed anyway no matter what passions might have overcome Shegil during her flights. Everyone whispered that if Sibilla did retire, Godrick would follow soon after. Both would finally get to be with each other again, free of the constraints of leadership and tradition.

Raiya approached the tall, pale male while mulling over her thoughts and feelings on the matter of her adopted parents potentially leaving her. She couldn’t resent them for this, but the feeling of abandonment weighed heavily on her chest.

As she reached over to begin pouring, she couldn’t help but take the opportunity to have a closer look at him. Raiya had seen him around quite a few times, either talking with Ralph and Godrick or sitting in the library reading book after book. He always wore the same robe, plain black over white, and was generally met with deference and respect around the fortress. Speaker Julian, a man who had the same gift as her. He probably had all the answers to her questions. Before she could pour, he covered the top with his hand and shook his head with a small smile.

“Do you have any water by chance?” he asked gently. His voice was deep but soft, as if he was not willing to yell but could demand authority if needed.

“No sir,” she answered apologetically, retracting the pitcher slowly.

“Well, if you get a chance, please bring me some water. I don’t normally like to drink fermented liquids.”

Raiya nodded her understanding, opening her mouth to say something else to him, but thought better of it. She’d talk to Sibilla first and see what she said. With that resolution in mind, she moved to the last person seated at the table. The northern woman stared cheerfully out at the dining hall, her crystal blue eyes shining brightly. The woman’s long, blonde hair was braided in a thick plait and her pale, white skin danced with shadows from the flickering candles and torches. This woman was Iva Sumner, the flyer of Rellerth. She had Bonded with her Queen in Kaerndale Fortress but unfortunately, they had lost the Enthronement there and made the decision to relocate, coming to Dragonspire nine years ago. Sibilla had told Raiya that she had been a timid girl during her few times meeting her when she had traveled up north to Annika, hesitant to say or do anything. It was in Bonding with Rellerth that had provided her with strength, courage, and a unique insight on life.

“Thank you,” Iva said as Raiya finished filling her goblet, her voice light and airy. “I do so love the number of tributes we have this year. I expect we’ll have a wonderful new flyer for the next Queen as well!”

“Yes,” Raiya agreed with her, smiling at the young woman’s enthusiasm. “Rellerth will no longer be the youngest. Will you be traveling to another fortress then?”

Iva sighed, swirling the dark purple liquid in her goblet with a finger as she stared off into the distance, presumably talking with Rellerth. After a moment, she said, “We’ll try for the Enthronement again. I very much want to remain in Dragonspire if possible. Rellerth and I will do our best to win this time.” She smiled at the girl who had such bright, inquisitive eyes before turning away, searching for something. “I say, what happened to that other girl? The one serving the appetizers? She hasn’t stopped by me yet.”

Raiya glanced around and noticed that Gina did indeed seem to be missing from the dais. She probably had already returned to the kitchen.

Raiya took her leave too, not wanting to stand around awkwardly near these prestigious people. Right underneath this table was another table on a lower dais. This is where the members of the Council who lived in the fortress sat and they quickly called to her as she tried to move past, asking for refills. Thus, it was a rather lengthy period of time before she could return to the kitchen, bearing a tray with two empty pitches.

As soon as she entered the kitchen, Gina wasted no time ambushing her, yanking her to the side as the empty pitchers wobbled dangerously on her tray.

“Whoa, you’ll topple the pitchers!” Raiya exclaimed, trying to pull her arm free to steady them.

Gina made an impatient noise, steadying the tray and pitchers for her before staring hard at her. “You took so long to serve drinks and I saw you talk with both Speaker Julian and–!”

“Gals!”

The two whirled around, matching guilty looks splayed across both their faces. It was one thing to slack off out of Ashari’s view, another entirely to do so in her presence during a busy time. Ashari stood before them, both hands on her hips though one still clutched a ladle. Her stern dark eyes stared them down, causing them to shrink against each other.

“Do you thank now da time fa talk?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow. They mutely shook their heads no. Everyone had come to learn it was best not to speak when Ashari was riled up. Else wise you were sure to be beaten with a ladle, broom, or anything with a sturdy handle. “Den git back ta wuk an if I see you layin' back 'gin...” She didn’t need to make up a threat, their minds were already churning with all the horrible things she would do to them.

Gina raced off first and Raiya turned to quickly find something to do but Ashari placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder, the heavy hand rooting her in place.

“Yes, Mistress Ashari?”

Raiya couldn’t help but sound meek for she was sure Ashari was either going to lecture her some more or beat her as punishment for dilly dallying again. She glanced at the hand holding her in place, seeing all the scars and burns that covered the brown hand. Ashari was a hard worker, always doing what she could for the fortress. Raiya? Well, Raiya felt like she would never measure up to being like her, no matter how much Ashari trained or lectured her.

“Gina da mo older an wiser, she kno betta dan fa stop duhreen de middle ob duties,” Ashari began, and Raiya scrunched her nose up. Yes, she may be one of the youngest servants in the fortress and yes, she did slack off occasionally, but she felt like she did a lot for her size and age. Why did no one seem to notice this? Here she was getting lectured while Gina, the older girl, skipped away freely even though she was the one who had approached her first. It wasn’t fair! Why was she always considered separately from the older servants? Tears filled her eyes, but she furiously blinked them away. In this moment, she hated the stupid feast. She hated her real parents for selling her into this life. She hated Ashari for treating her more harshly than the other servants. Ashari felt the girl tremble beneath her hand, and, guessing correctly why, changed her next words to better address Raiya’s feelings. “But I kno you too. You a bright and talented chile who got good wits bout yah. I da look fa mo from you den I do from de older gals cuz I hope dat one day you might wan fa tek ova.”

“Mistress?!” Raiya’s astonishment could not be contained, chasing away her anger as she whirled to face her. Did she understand correctly? Her? Take over? She was only ten years old, and Ashari wasn’t that old either, being of similar age to Sibilla.

“Yes, as de Mistress,” Ashari affirmed for her, answering the questioning gasp with a small smile.

Raiya didn’t bother saying the word uttered in surprise hadn’t been a question but a call of shock. Instead, she said, “I’m not worthy, there are many others who have worked here longer. I’m young and there is much for me to learn…” She also didn’t bother mentioning how they coveted Ashari’s position too, rather zealously. Ashari’s spot was one of the highest positions a lower-class person could ever hope to have.

“Ten, fifteen, twenty. It doan matta how long ya been in dis world but what ya kin do. Yeah, de older ones got moe experience, but to have someone wid true talent and experience... Now dat would mek me res' in peace. I believe ya talented, gal, an' Sibilla do too. If ya truly been born to her, well... '” She trailed off, not needing to speak the words both understood clearly. Life would have been better for her if Raiya had indeed been Sibilla’s true born child. She would have had a better education, better opportunities, and even the chance to be a dragon-flyer. Unfortunately, she was only a filthy village child. “But ya a servant,” Ashari continued, steeling her voice resolutely and delivering the next sentence with a touch of coldness. “an' de bes' a servant can eva hope for is to wuk dey way up to de highes' rank in dey division. For ya, dat whar I deah standin' gal,” She jabbed her thumb into her chest, emphasizing her point.

Raiya knew the rules of the fortress very well. She had been forced to when she became a servant. She understood the divisions in the caste system well enough despite being young. But to hear someone acknowledge her in such a way and say that she would possibly amount to nothing more than an over-looker of servants at the same time made her both happy and sad. Happy at the praise, but sad and angry at how unlucky she was to be born to parents living in a village. That didn’t even want her, feared her, had sold her off as if she were nothing more than goods. Though tithes were supposed to be freely given and generally products and food, there were underhanded dealings where people were sold to the fortress. She was one such person, her life worth only a mere twenty dracons*. But better a servant at the fortress than whatever else she might have been outside in the harshness of the world.

Ashari sighed, guiltily patting the girl’s shoulder as she saw the emotions flash across her face. Raiya’s eyes were again naturally drawn to those hands so near her face, always counting all the scars and burns that stood out starkly against her dark skin. Raiya had always loved them, felt safe when they held her close. These large hands that looked terrifying to others were instead warm and comforting to her. If Godrick and Sibilla had taken on parental roles, then Ashari had become like an aunt to her. Since Sibilla and Ashari were good friends, like sisters they would say, it was Ashari who had been there for the girl more often than Sibilla who was busy leading the fortress. She would bathe the girl, brush her hair, put her to bed when her parents were unavailable, and watch over her with a protective eye. Raiya found great comfort indeed in those hands.

Then those hands were gone, and Ashari walked away, barking out orders as she went, never looking back. Raiya was somewhat relieved that she hadn’t because she did not want her to see the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

The feast continued into the early morning and Raiya worked tirelessly. She was exhausted, wanting to go lie down, but every time she would think to sneak out, Ashari would somehow manage to find her and give her a new task. When she wasn’t struggling under heavy trays, she spent her time thinking about the hatching tomorrow, the potential retirement of her adopted parents soon, and Speakers.

She hadn’t forgotten what the boy had said and had grown beyond interested in finding out more. She knew the best person to talk to for this information would be Speaker Julian since he was one himself. She couldn’t ask him during the feast so she would have to find a way to corner the man. Of the servants she had asked, most said the best time to ambush him was when he was at the library, where he didn’t expect to be interrupted.

Occasionally, she would catch Gina trying to catch her eye, but she avoided it underneath the watchful gaze of Ashari. She did not want to welcome further trouble to her doorstep, and she imagined Gina would share whatever information she gave with Denali. The last thing she wanted was Denali knowing anything about her.

As she ran back and forth from the kitchens, she always found her eyes drawn to where the tributes were seated. The tributes from the north, south, and east continents sat near the lower dais where the Council was seated. Those from their own continent, Valeria, could choose to sit amongst the other tributes or sit at their usual spots, a perk for living at Dragonspire. Iva had indeed spoken truthfully about the enormous number of tributes this time around. She hadn’t been around during the last hatching, but she had asked Sibilla and read a few books on the previous Hatching Ceremonies. With small clutches being laid for so long, there wasn’t a need to bring in large pools of tributes like in the old days. But this time, Shegil had laid a large clutch of twenty-two eggs compared to the usual five or ten. So instead of the ten to twenty tributes that usually appeared, there was a staggering thirty-two tributes to twenty-two eggs. There were seven from the north, six from the south, five from the east, and fourteen from the west. Naturally Bellasea and Dragonspire had wanted to offer up the most tributes since the eggs were laid in a western fortress, but the north had made sure to send as much as they could too. Everyone understood that if they could have their tribute Bond with the Queen, more power would be gained for that continent especially with Queens being rare.

As Raiya served their table, she examined these people who could potentially walk away with a dragon tomorrow. They were of varying ages, from eleven to their early twenties. Each spoke animatedly about tomorrow and what to expect. Some boasted it wasn’t their first time participating. Others spoke about the large clutch, wondering if it was a sign for a coming change for dragon-flyers. Raiya tuned into this specifically, eagerly listening in. The person currently speaking had platinum blonde hair and pale skin, a northerner.

“It’s still impressive though, really. Even if a clutch av twenty-two is still lower than those av S'egil’s ancesthrs, it’s a fine amahunt in today’s time,” she was saying while the boy, who looked so much like her that he must be her twin, sat next to her and groaned.

“'ere s'e goes again,” he complained to the tall, dark-haired person seated next to him.

“If you have a problem with what I'm sayeng den speak up 'erbert,” the girl responded, shooting him a dirty look. “I'm fascinated by de biological av a dragon and very much want to figure out why dey suddenly stopped layeng large clutc'es after de Calamity. Dat's been our bloodline's goal since den and I intend to be de wan to solve de mystery!”

The dark-haired boy sitting next to Herbert, spoke up, his whole countenance exuding boredom and disinterest in the topic. “What more is there to figure out? You said it yourself. The Calamity is the reason we don’t have large clutches anymore. Twenty-two isn’t bad. The largest one to ever be recorded was sixty-six, six hundred years ago and right before the Calamity. Two Princes had been lain too, another record as well.”

When he mentioned Princes, Raiya noticed how the table quietly bristled, shooting the boy dark looks and muttering to each other. She caught a few words, “Malstrom…bastards…disgrace…” and realized that he must be a Malstrom, someone descended from Rodrick. Those who were from the Malstrom bloodline often to this day faced criticism, anger, and disgust from others for being apart of a tainted bloodline, even if they lived normal and honest lives.

The girl, however, beamed at him, seizing the moment to further the discussion. “Yes, dat's true! Veramyr's Prince, Cynthrax, and Arun's Prince, Athir, were de last two Princes to be bhrn befhre Nymerik. A shame both were lost to de war. It's almahst like divine punishment dat we are struggleng so much because we didn't take better care av our dragons. Draggeng dem into so many wars and such."”

“You steehl refuse to tell us why you're not goeng to try to Bond wiv le Queen. If Chieftez Layla found oot...” a dark-haired girl sitting on the other side of the one speaking said quietly.

“Oh Erika, it doesn't matter if I Bond with de Queen hr anoder. A dragon is a dragon. Besides, we should all focus on ourselves. Ten av us are eider goeng to die hr walk away without a dragon, maybe even mhre. No time to whrry about what somewan else is doeng.”

The gruesome statement sobered up those nearby and with the sudden lapse in conversation, Raiya’s presence was noticed.

One of the tributes, a male with long, auburn hair braided intricately sneered at her, his green eyes narrowed in contempt. “Fit ye dain' jist standin' there lassie? Away ye go somewhere else,” he said, dismissing her.

Raiya quickly left, not wanting to publicly be accused of exactly what she had been doing, eavesdropping. She had been drawn into the conversation like a moth to a candle flame, her curiosity often getting the best of her. What these tributes had been saying was the talk of the fortress. But while the topic then shifted to who would Bond with the Queen, these tributes spoke more on their potential deaths tomorrow. The girl who spoke the most admitted to not wanting to be one of the female tributes for the Queen! Why? Raiya’s mind raced with more questions. Did she think she didn’t have a chance?

Raiya stopped suddenly in the hallway leading to the dining hall and kitchens. Before the tributes had arrived, there had been an expectation for a Valerian tribute to Bond with the Queen. Ever since the other tributes arrived, however, there had been a change in tune. The female tributes selected specifically for the Queen had seemed disinterested. They did little to make themselves known to the fortress.

All except one.

Since Denali’s arrival, there had been a large growing favoritism for her. She was often seen around the fortress, interacting with the upper-class. Raiya hadn’t noticed then, but now it clicked into place. Denali had slowly begun to be treated as someone who was already a Queen flyer. She already acted as if she had Bonded with the dragon. The whispers in the fortress that had sprung out of nowhere said she was all but assured as the next chieftess. She fed on this, thrived off the attention. Her manner of behavior poised and elegant with a soft smile and eyes that gleamed with a hunger for power and prestige, those eyes glimmered under the glow of the people’s growing love.

The other female tributes had given up. Some had already turned their eyes to the other eggs that had been laid, hoping to claim one of those instead.

But yet why did they all behave like it was an assured thing?

You couldn’t rig the hatching…could you?