Page 64 of The Flame King's Queen

As the event progresses, it seems more and more likely that Zenevieve is right, and I start to get excited for Scourge and Zabriel.

Kane moves his dragon into place. Auryn has a hard, focused look in his black eyes, and I feel a moment of trepidation. While the previous events seemed to irritate or confuse him, Auryn can’t wait to breathe fire. When he does, the line of flame travels a great distance—but not far enough. With a roar of annoyance, Auryn takes to the skies.

Half a dozen more dragons compete, with Verdun and Lethis almost outstripping Scourge, but they fall short.

Stesha and Nilak are the last pair, and I feel myself sit up and clench my hands on my skirt. Nilak is luminous and beautiful in the moonlight. Stesha is upright on her back, the wind catching at his flow of white hair.

Hundreds of people are cheering for the dragonmaster and Nilak and waving their white and blue ribbons in the air. I never thought of the dragonmaster as a popular man, but during the Dragon Games, he’s admired like the brightest star in the heavens. He has as many people cheering for him as Zabriel does. I like Stesha. I respect Stesha. But I want my mate to be the favorite and to win.

Two women seated behind us have been exclaiming nonstop throughout the event. I’ve been too focused on Zabriel to pay attention to their words, but suddenly their conversation rings through the air.

“The dragonmaster looks so handsome tonight. He’s going to win the Dragon Games and drive that imposter Alpha out of Lenhale.”

“And take the man’s Omega as his mate,” the second woman finishes excitedly. “I was there the day he brought her to Lenhale. It was like something out of the old tales. I don’t think I’ve stopped swooning.”

I glance at Zenevieve, worried that she might feel hurt by this, but she’s gazing straight ahead across the arena as if she hasn’t heard a thing. She waves no one’s ribbons today, though I was touched to see her holding turquoise and gold for the previous event. Perhaps she’s given up hope that Stesha will look at her differently. As she’s not fated to the Alpha, I suppose it makes sense that her feelings will eventually fade.

There’s a stake in the ground bearing a red and black ribbon that marks the reach of Scourge’s fire, and Nilak fixes her glittering gaze on it as she lowers her head and opens her jaws. My heart leaps into my throat. Fire races across the ground, lighting up the dragongrounds. The liquid golden ripple races toward the stake, hungry to consume it. The dragon opens her jaws wider, her throat ablaze. The river of fire consumes Kane and Auryn’s stake and the crowd cheers, but then it slows, failing to catch up to Scourge and Zabriel.

Nilak’s eyes narrow as she raises her head. The dragonmaster inclines his head to the crowd in thanks for their cheers, and he and Nilak go back to their place. That’s two events that Zabriel has bested him in, a fact that won’t be sitting well on the Alpha’s shoulders, as I know he considers Zabriel his only real competition.

“You’re proud of Zabriel, aren’t you?” Zenevieve asks me with a smile.

I realize I’m sitting up straighter and running Zabriel’s colors through my fingers. “So proud. This win puts him equal first with Sundra.”

When Zabriel returns to me, my mate smells deliciously smoky from all the dragonfire, and his scent is full of fiery victory. He picks me up and holds me one-handed while my arms are wrapped around his neck, and he accepts the congratulations of his fellow dragonriders. He collects his winner’s ribbon, and then he carries me off to bed.

The following morning, we assemble for the day’s event, which I’m excited to hear favors nimble, curious dragons. Part of the dragongrounds has been filled with furniture, wagons, barrels, cut-down trees, bales of straw, heaps of farming equipment, and piles of dirt. The Temple Mothers explain that there will be six rocks hidden in the debris, all spelled to chirp very faintly.

“This event is in memory of those who died in the avalanche in the Bodan Mountains during the reign of King Thenor, the present king’s great-grandfather,” Mother Linnea tells us. “The landslide buried a unit of soldiers beneath ice and snow. Dragons and riders worked quickly to dig them out, and many lives were saved that day. But six soldiers perished, and this event commemorates them.”

I stand with my hand pressed against Esmeral’s neck, and I show her what Mother Linnea told us through a series of pictures. Esmeral’s morale has been dented ever since we withdrew from the Three Howls event, but I feel her interest prick up at the idea of rescuing lost soldiers.

“That’s right, we don’t have to be the biggest or the strongest to be valuable dragonriders,” I whisper to her. “We can tear Auryn’s wing to save fledglings. We can search for missing soldiers. We can be as swift and agile as any wingrunner.”

The competitors withdraw to the far end of the dragongrounds so we don’t see where the chirping rocks are buried. Esmeral and I are two of the last competitors. Stesha seems agitated as he waits for his and Nilak’s names to be called in the arena, and he’s pacing up and down. As I watch, Nilak leans her great head down and nudges his back. Her rider stops moving and embraces her, closing his eyes and pressing his head against her.

I wonder why because this isn’t a particularly dangerous event. Perhaps he’s upset that Zabriel is ahead of him, but I assumed that he’d only become more stoic in the face of adversity.

He and Nilak are called in, and a while later I hear rapturous applause, so they seem to have done well. There’s another competitor, and then a Temple Mother shouts Esmeral’s and my name.

I feel a burst of butterflies in my stomach as I mount Esmeral and we enter the arena, and I see all the watching people. Turquoise and golden ribbons wave through the crowd. A Temple Mother reminds me of the event rules, that we’re allowed to fly, and that we have six rocks to find as quickly as possible, and we can give up at any time by returning to our starting place.

The moment the horn sounds and Esmeral spreads her wings, I can feel her delight. She’s always been a bright, curious dragon, and her attention is pricked forward as she flies low over the debris. As she hunts for the rocks, I forget all about my nerves and help her hunt. We find all six rocks surprisingly quickly.

Stesha is there as we pass out of the arena, his arms folded as he leans against Nilak. “Well done, Queen Isavelle.”

“Thank you, dragonmaster. It was all Esmeral.”

He nods. “She’s a credit to the flare.”

Esmeral bounds over to Zenevieve, chittering excitedly, and she embraces first my dragon and then me. “That was incredible. I think that has earned you and Esmeral a place on the leaderboard.”

I brush a strand of hair out of my face and ask in surprise. “Do you really think so?”

She squeezes my shoulder and grins. “Let’s wait and see.”

The event ends, and the Temple Crone emerges into the arena to announce the winners. “In third place, Aurissa and her rider Corin.”

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