“I can read and write,” Harper replied. Just about. Thanks to Betta.
“Hmm. I don’t know what education is like in Caledan, but for starters, I’m going to wager you haven’t studied philosophy, magic, or the healing arts. Nor can you speak, read, and write Pelenori, and that is what matters here.”
Harper gave him a blank look.
“Then there’s the small matter of your breed.” Brand scrunched up his face. “It’s as crude as the Aerians. If you have the wrong type of blood, well, they simply won’t look at you twice. You can’t be a mere mortal, that’s for sure.”
“So I’m out,” Erika said from behind them with a snort of derision.
“You cannot be another kind of race, either. So that rules myself out,” said Brand.
“And me,” said Ragnar. “Not that I want to ride dragons anyway.”
“Nor can you be a half-breed any less pure than a half-elf. They like to keep the magic pure and strong. Half-elves or stronger are the most able-bodied for combat, and their magic runs strongest to bond with their dragons.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Harper. “But that means there’s a small chance, right? I mean, if I am half-elf, and they do take applicants my age, perhaps I can learn all those other things.”
“Sure,” agreed Brand affably. “Never say never. Few things are truly impossible. But Aedon is right. It isn’t as easy as strolling up to the king’s gates and saying ‘pretty please’.”
Harper sighed.
“Why are you so hung up on it?” Erika asked.
“I’ve dreamed of adventure all my life.” What Harper did not dare admit to was that those dreams had been all that she had to keep her going on the darkest of nights. The promise of better times and the power to change her own fate. “Perhaps it’s not the same here where such adventures are common for you. Besides, I want to know more about the Dragonheart, how it came to me. I don’t know where else to get answers.”
Erika snorted again. “If that’s the case, you have a pretty messed up idea of what’s important. Riding dragons and pratting around like you’re better than everyone else? Pah!” She strode ahead.
Harper glared at Erika indignantly, but no one spoke to excuse her. “You all agree with her?”
“‘Fraid so,” said Brand.
Aedon nodded. “It’s an easy choice for us. Look at what we’re doing. We’re on a mission to save lives. We’ll make a real difference in the world.”
“But so will the Winged Kingsguard, right? They must do such noble deeds far and wide!” Their scrutiny—and self assurance that she was in the wrong—made the back of her neck burn. She angled defensively, eyes darting between them.
Brand chuckled.
Harper narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”
Aedon cast his friend a glance. “I think what Brand’s thinking is that it’s not so clear-cut. When you’re on the orders of the king, you do what you’re told—not what you want to or what you think is right. You may even have to complete tasks you believe are abhorrently wrong because they’re your king-given orders. Would you really be happy to do that?”
“That depends, I suppose. What’s the king like?”
Aedon shrugged. “A king.”
Harper waited for him to elaborate, but Brand spoke up. “Rulers often believe they’re doing the right thing, whether for themselves or for their kingdom. Seldom are those things aligned. A king may often act outside the best interests of his people. A king is but one person, and people are fallible, especially when not held to account.”
“That’s treason,” Ragnar said cheerfully.
“Your point? Join in if you feel like you’re missing out,” Brand retorted.
“Gladly. Kings are asses,” Ragnar said loudly with relish. “Have you ever really thought it fair that gold gets spent on those grand tournaments and parades when folks out in the country are starving on a bad harvest? There’s no way anyone can justify that. And being a member of the Winged Kingsguard will mean you have to stand by and watch that happen, even actively take part in it.”
He continued, “Notice how the king is not rushing to cure this sickness? Why bother? He might not have heard of it, just to give him a fair chance, but if he has, what’s one village to him? Hardly worth the effort, to be sure. Now, if it were his own household, I’m sure things would be different. Why, the Winged Kingsguard themselves would be sent the length and breadth of the kingdom to find a cure and retrieve it by any means necessary. Any price would have been paid to the elves of Tir-na-Alathea for it,” Ragnar scoffed, then muttered unintelligibly to himself.
Harper turned back to Aedon and Brand.
“That pretty much covers it,” said Aedon with a shrug. “It’s hard to join, but if you get in, don’t necessarily think you’ll be off gallivanting on grand and noble quests. More likely, you’ll sit, growing old and fat, until the king sends you out on some selfish behest.”