Page 1 of Wild Bond

“Getup,maggots!It’syour lucky day!”

My eyes jerked open at the gravelly cry from the guard. I bit my lip to stifle the moan that tried to escape as I moved to sit up, my aching muscles protesting the movement. For some unknown reason, I had fallen asleep on the cold stone floor of my dingy cell rather than the only slightly more comfortable straw mat in the corner. I rubbed my arms to force some warmth back into them as I tried to ignore the familiar smells of urine, blood, and unwashed bodies that assaulted my nostrils.

I leaned forward and peered through the bars, down the line of cells to where I could see the glowing light of several lanterns bobbing toward me. I could just make out the hulking forms of nearly half a dozen guards in the dim light.

“What’s happening?” another prisoner in the cell adjacent to mine whispered. He was a big brute whose name I had never bothered to learn. He had nearly bludgeoned his cell mate to death on the first day he was brought here a few months back. At least, I was assuming it was a few months . . . I had stopped keeping track of the days a long time ago.

Due to that little incident, the brute was now in a cell all by himself. I also had that privilege, but that was because I was female. Holt, the head dungeon master, might be a sadistic bastard and despise me to the depths of the Dark Realms, but at least he had never made me share a cell with any of my male counterparts. Thank the Nine for small mercies.

None of us responded to the guard’s query, but luckily, he kept speaking, “The queen has chosen you lot to be the petitioners at this year’s Bonding Celebrations.”

Murmurs broke out at this announcement, and a pang of disbelief raced through me. The Bonding Celebrations. It was that time of year again? My mind whirled. That meant I had been a prisoner for two years. Could that be right? Two years of my life spent starving and alone in this dark hole. It felt both unbelievable and not nearly long enough at the same time. After the endless days of nothing, surely it had been an eternity, not just two years.

Thinking of the day I had been captured, my mind immediately went to Lessa. She would be close to her ninth year now. Was she still in Dessin? Was she even alive? I still didn’t know if she had even gotten away that night. I prayed to all the Nine Gods that she had.

Or all this would have been for nothing.

“If it were up to me,” an all too familiar voice hissed, and I glanced up to see Holt standing before my cell, scratching at his gut that sagged below a stained shirt, “I’d let ya rot in this miserable hole for the rest of yer days. Lower city filth like you don’t deserve to see the light of day again.”

“Still bitter about that eye, I see,” I rasped, my voice sounding weak and dry from disuse.

The scar on his eyebrow—the one I had given him from my first misguided escape attempt a few weeks after I was arrested—shone in the lanternlight as he leaned forward and gripped the bars. “Keep your mouth shut, slum rat!” he barked, glaring daggers at me as he began to unlock my cell door. I could see several other guards doing the same for other prisoners.

“Of course, there’s still the chance you’ll be put to death at your hearing. You’re just a petitioner after all. Things could go either way for you.” The twist of his lips said the thought made him extremely happy.

He was right. Every year during the three-day-long festivities of the Bonding Celebrations, wild dragons all over Palasia answered The Call—the instinctual pull dragons felt toward their potential rider—and flocked to certain major cities to find and bond with their riders. No one knew why this was, but every year people gathered in hopes that their children might be one of the lucky few to become one of the kingdom’s elite force of dragon riders.

Though bonding new dragon riders was the main purpose of this holiday, another was the tradition of pardoning, punishing, and sentencing prisoners from the castle dungeons or city prisons. It was done as a sign of goodwill, but many went simply for the entertainment of watching a criminal being sentenced and possibly put to death. I personally had always thought it was just a way to make room for new prisoners. But whatever the reason, it seemed I would now get to be a part of that glorious tradition.

I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. Part of me still didn’t dare believe that I was getting out of this place, but anything was better than spending another minute in my cell.

Holt opened my cell door and yanked me roughly to my feet. I staggered, and my muscles screamed in protest as I tried not to fall forward on my face. He quickly secured cuffs on my wrists as if he thought I would try and resist, but I was simply focused on staying upright.

He pushed me into the hallway and another guard chained my hands in a line with the other prisoners. Luckily, the brute was nowhere near me, having been chained farther down the line. I kept an eye on the men directly in front and behind me, but one just stared blankly ahead, and the other was shorter than even my average height and so scrawny that he looked like a breath of wind could knock him over.

“Move!” Holt barked as he made his way to the front of the line, shoving my fellow captives out of his way as he did.

It was slow going as we began to shuffle forward, working our way past the cells and up the cold stone stairs out of the dungeons. My feet were bare, and if I hadn’t been chained to the others, I probably would have fallen any number of times. At least they hadn’t chained our ankles. As we made it to the next level and passed more cells, I didn’t even look at the other inmates or listen to their haunting cries. I was too busy trying to swallow down my fear and apprehension at what was to come.

I noted the guards all carried crossbows with bolts no doubt tipped with basilisk venom. As a deterrent to escape, it was one of the most effective. Growing up as an orphan in the lower city slums of Dessin, I had seen the agony and eventual death that particular venom could cause. Master Safan had threatened me with it on several occasions when I failed to bring back a certain score he wanted. Thoughts of the slumlord had an all too familiar fury rising in me that I fought to squelch. He was to blame for my being in prison in the first place, at least in part.

He was to blame for so much.

A door opened ahead of us, and the sudden blinding light made me cringe. I let out a pained hiss along with several of those around me. My chains prevented me from covering my face, so I was forced to blink rapidly to clear my suddenly streaming eyes.

It was several minutes before my eyes could adjust, and by then we were already moving through an outdoor courtyard. I hadn’t seen sunlight or the sky in so long. My eyes devoured the jade and azure light of a fresh morning sky. I could hear birds chirping happily in the trees lining the courtyard and the tinkling water of a fountain somewhere. My breath caught in my chest at the beauty of it. I suddenly felt overwhelmed by it all and had tears in my eyes for a different reason. Quickly blinking them away, not wanting to show any emotion to the men around me, I took several calming breaths. The fresh air and warmth of the sun on my skin helped, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the sky.

As we made our way into the cobblestone streets of the upper city, I finally paid closer attention to my surroundings. Dessin was the capital of Baldor and was located at the base of one of the largest mountains in Palasia. Dragon Spear stood like a snow-peaked sentinel overlooking the entire city. Graystone Keep sat at the highest point of the city while the rest spread out into the foothills and valley beneath it. I had grown up in this city, but being from the slums, I’d never had much reason to venture into the upper city, much less Graystone Keep.

The Bonding Celebrations were in full swing, and the city was alive with the sounds of merriment and activity, even at this early morning hour. Due to the holiday, I knew it was spring, but the air was already warm. Or maybe I was just so used to my chilly dungeon cell that anything would feel warm to me now.

The streets were covered in decorations of dark green and pale silver, the Baldorian colors. Banners with the Baldorian coat of arms—a silver tree under a sky filled with silver stars on a dark green backdrop—seemed to hang from every building and surface.

A large shadow passed over us, and I looked up and caught sight of a deep blue dragon as it flew far overhead, the morning sun glinting off its massive batlike wings. I knew I would see many more before the day was out. Dragon riders could choose any major city in Baldor in which to spend the Bonding Celebrations, but most chose to spend it in the capital.

Watching the dragon disappear out of sight, I thought momentarily of the days when I had dreamed of becoming a dragon rider. Those days were long gone now. The riders would never let a convict near one of their precious unbonded dragons. I was too old anyway; bonding usually happened before puberty. I had never heard of a rider bonding who was older than their twelfth or thirteenth year. The only notable exception was the great queen of old, Lethara, who had been the first person to bond with a dragon.

As we passed the upper city market, vendors yelled to passersby while some merchants were still setting up their carts for the day. Many who caught sight of us spat on the ground to ward off evil. Others simply turned away, pretending not to see the line of convicted criminals in their midst. One young child stared openly with mouth agape until he was shuffled away by an older woman.

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