Page 16 of Wild Bond

She lost her husband and her dragon two decades ago in a skirmish against Zevitian forces. It was part of the reason our countries originally went to war.

A mournful note of sympathy trickled through the bond.

I agreed with Skye. I couldn’t even imagine the agony of losing Skye after bonding with her, and our bond was still only in its infancy. Nothing like the several decades the queen had been bonded to her dragon before she lost her, and then to lose a spouse as well.

The death of a bonded dragon was almost always fatal to its rider. If the rider did manage to survive, the severing of the bond was so crushing that it usually drove the rider mad, and many eventually took their own lives rather than live on without the bond. Those riders who did retain their sanity, and decided to continue living, were known as The Hollow Ones, or just Hollow. A title bestowed on them by society, much like a woman or man who lost a spouse was known as a widow or widower.

The queen must have picked up on Skye’s emotions, or maybe she saw something on my face that gave away our line of conversation, because, for a brief instant, her gaze took on a far away, almost lost quality. Her voice lowered, and there was a depth of pain in her next statement that I couldn’t even begin to fathom. “Treasure her,” she counseled softly. “Keep each other safe.”

I swallowed hard.

In the next moment, however, the look of grief was gone, and the shrewd and almost bored mask of the monarch was back in place. In a much louder tone she said, “I will be most intrigued to see what the future holds for you Rin,” her eyes shifted to Skye, “and your famous dragon.”

With a sharp nod and a wave of her hand she moved away, clearly dismissing us. Climbing back up the stairs of the dais, she sat primly back on her throne and accepted a glass of wine from a waiting servant before pounding her cane on the floor. Instantly, the musicians started up again. My fellow trainees moved to rejoin their parents, and I melted back into the crowd, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, though I wasn’t sure I succeeded.

Sometime later—after several hours of being gawked at, sneered at, or just plain ignored by the other guests—the great bell tower of Dessin, located several miles east in another part of the city, tolled the midnight hour. All the guests began making their way outside. A burst of excitement filled me at the familiar sound. The ballroom’s glass doors were opened to the warm night air. I stepped out onto the massive stone balcony that ran alongside the length of the ballroom. Men and women in all their finery, nobles, riders, and servants alike were spreading out across the lawn and gardens below. Some stopped to stand on the stairs, while others found places to sit on the stone benches in the garden, or even on the grass. But all eyes stared expectantly up at the sky. The torches and fairy lights that normally blazed to light the grounds had been doused or dimmed so as not to detract from what was to come.

I knew it would be much the same all throughout the city right now. I could easily picture all the people in the lower city standing out on the darkened streets or peering out of open windows to watch. Every year Master Safan would say the Exodus was the best time to pick pockets, since everyone was distracted and all eyes were on the sky, but I never did. I loved watching the dragons along with the rest of Dessin. The whole thing lasted no longer than five minutes at most, and for that short time each year, I could look up and forget who and what I was, and everything but the beauty before me. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

I made my way to an empty portion of the balcony, slightly apart from any other guests, and placed my hands on the warm stone railing. Skye glided down to perch next to my hand. I could feel her eager excitement as we waited. An almost reverent silence had fallen over the crowd; over the entire world, it seemed. I took a deep breath of the jasmine scented air, feeling the thrum of blood in my veins just as the first dragon flew overhead.

A cry went up at the sight. The dragon’s scales glowed with a soft, shimmering, almost iridescent light, and a faint hum could be heard emanating from it. Then another dragon appeared, and another and another. Soon the sky was filled with dragons of all sizes and colors, wild as well as bonded. Each one glowing with the same gentle light and filling the night with the same melodic, almost mournful hum, known as Dragon Song.

Dragon Song, much like the mysterious, instinctual call that drove wild dragons to seek out their riders each year, was something little understood by the people of Palasia. It was something that only happened once a year during the Exodus, when the young, wild dragons that came for the celebrations, but didn’t find their riders, were escorted home by their bonded brethren. The bonded dragons would fly with the wild dragons until dawn.

No one knew why theysang, or why on this one night their scales emitted that soft glow. I didn’t particularly care why; I just knew it was one of the most spectacularly beautiful things I had ever seen.

I heard a soft hum beside me and glanced down to see Skye staring longingly after the other dragons. Her tiny chest produced a sound not unlike a purr. I could feel her yearning to join them warring with her desire to stay and protect me.

A wave of affection overcame me as she fought her instincts so valiantly for my sake.

I bent slightly, stroking her head until she turned and met my eyes. “Go,” I urged her softly. “I’ll be fine here until you get back.”

Her tiny head swiveled to stare at the other dragons, then back to me. She mewled; indecision clear in her manner.

“Go,” I ordered, more firmly this time. “It’s only for a couple of hours.”

She hesitated only a moment longer, then nuzzled my hand and sent me images through the bond of her returning to me in the morning. I smiled at the sweet reassurance that she would be back and made a shooing motion with my hand. She took off into the sky, transforming as she went until she had grown to her true size.

I noticed several people point her out in the sky as her uniquely colored scales began to radiate the same shimmering light.

I suddenly felt a presence at my side and turned to see Commander Rakim had halted beside me. He stared out at the sight before us, and those impossibly blue eyes seemed to glitter in the dragon light from above.

“There’s nothing quite like it, is there?” he said.

I turned back to stare out at the night, watching Skye’s form gradually get smaller as she disappeared into the distance. “No, there isn’t,” I replied.

Neither of us said anything as we watched the dragons from all over the city begin to fade from view. Another few minutes, and they were just more glowing stars in the night.

“I never thought I would see this again,” I murmured, the words nothing more than a breath on the night air. I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t look at him. My stare remained on the stars overhead. “Two days ago I was starving and freezing to death in a prison cell only a few floors below us, and now . . .” A sardonic smile touched my lips, and I shook my head. “It feels like a dream.”

“Fate can be cruel in one breath and kind in the next,” he mused, surprising me.

“Or the gods are simply having their fun with me,” I ventured.

He raised a dark brow. “I didn’t take you for the religious sort.”

I turned to find him studying me with an intense light, his eyes straying to my hair where it fell around my face.

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