Page 20 of Lightningborn

Remy gazed down at the curled-up dragon. “How long until Storm gets big enough to ride?” he wanted to know.

Bart gave him an amused look. “Ah, you thought you were going to fly off this rock using that creature, eh? Well, I hate to break it to you, boy, but the earliest age a dragon can be ridden safely is about three years. They need that time for their bones, especially their wing bones, to become strong enough to carry a full-grown rider and saddle. Try to ride them sooner, and you might damage their growth.”

“Threeyears?” Remy’s heart sank.

“And training a dragon isn’t something just anyone can do,” Bart went on relentlessly. “You have to start them early, getting them used to the saddle, teaching them all the commands they need to know while flying. Training them to respond to shifts in your body weight, how to wear armor and flight gear, all those things. Professional dragon trainers study for years to learn what they know. How were you planning on teaching your dragon any of this when you don’t know anything yourself?”

“I…don’t know,” Remy admitted. “I thought we would just…figure it out together.”

“Figure it out together.” Bart snorted a laugh. In Remy’s lap, Storm raised his head and growled at the old man, showing his fangs. Bart ignored him. “You don’t know anything about raising a dragon,” he told Remy, “and you have no money to buy the food, gear, and necessities you’ll need to have any hope of success. Still want to keep that dragon? You could turn it over to Jhaeros tomorrow and have enough to buy your way to anywhere you wanted with the reward.”

Remy’s stomach went cold, and he clenched his jaw. “No,” he said, tightening his grip on the hatchling. “I’m not giving Storm to that pirate. We’ll find a way to survive, and when Storm is bigger, we’re going to leave this place and not look back.”

“You’re still set on keeping it,” Bart said in disbelief. “Even though you won’t be able to ride it for several years. Not to mention all the coin you could get for turning it over. Not to mention the trouble you could be in if youdon’tturn it over. You still want to keep it?”

“His name is Storm,” Remy snapped. “He’s not anit;he’sa dragon. And even if I could never ride him, I still wouldn’t hand him over to that pirate. Who knows what Jhaeros would do to him? He’s staying with me. I promised I would keep him safe, and I will. If you don’t want to help us, that’s fine. We’ll figure something out without you.”

Surprisingly, Bart smiled. “Ah, there it is,” the old man sighed. “That undying loyalty to one’s dragon, no matter how dangerous or unreasonable. Funny how they can do that to some.” He chuckled and shook his head, before giving Remy a serious look. “Sorry, lad, but I had to be sure. Raising a dragon from a hatchling is bloody hard workwithoutmurderous pirates breathing down your neck looking for it. I just needed to make sure that you were truly, one hundred percent committed to what we’re about to do. If you had any doubts at all, it wouldn’t be worth it.

“So,” he went on as Remy blinked at him in wary surprise, “first things first. We need to figure out how we’re going to feed this monster.” He gave Storm an affectionately exasperated look. Storm curled a lip at him. “He’s going to want to eat multiple times a day for the first few months. As he gets older, that will start to lessen, but it’s no small task to feed a hatchling dragon. And Cutthroat Wedge isn’t exactly teeming with livestock. Or fish. Or anything but pirates, stray cats, and vermin. And I don’t think a diet of rats and cat guts will be good for a hatchling in the long run. So we’re going to have to get creative,withoutraising suspicion.”

Remy remembered a half-full coin pouch with a rabbit stitched onto the front and frowned. He was fairly certain Bart made enough money at the tavern to buy food, but he also knew all of Bart’s coin went to buying drink for himself. Besides, Storm washisdragon.Heneeded to figure out a way to take care of him.

“The warehouses by the docks sometimes have barrels of salted fish and meat,” he said. “Sometimes they even have whole pigs. I could sneak around there and see if I can find anything.”

“Aye, and those warehouses are also full of smuggled goods and stolen loot.” Bart shook his head. “And pirates are very touchy about their booty, as I keep telling you. You get caught sneaking around there, they’ll string you up by the toes.”

“Then I’ll just have to not get caught.”

“It’s not worth the risk, lad,” Bart told him. “Especially now. Word of Jhaeros’s offer is going to spread. More and more pirates, cutthroats, treasure hunters, mercenaries, and even desperate normal folk are going to be arriving every day to look for that dragon.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Remy asked. “How are we going to get food for Storm?”

Bart sighed. “I’ll take care of it,” the man assured him. Remy crossed his arms and gave him a wary look, and Bart made an exasperated gesture with one hand. “Like I said, boy, lots of people will be arriving at Cutthroat Wedge looking for a dragon. Lots of people will be desperate to find out anything they can about dragons. And I happen to be a dragon expert.”

“You’re going to tell them dragon stories,” Remy guessed.

“I’m going to give them what they want,” Bart corrected, holding up a thin finger. “Which is information about dragons. Where they live. What they eat. What their nesting rituals are. None of which will have anything to do with findingyourdragon, but they will all be willing to pay for such valuable information.” He gave a half smile and rubbed his hands together. “Interest in everything dragon related will be at an all-time high; I intend to capitalize on this opportunity.”

“And you’ll use what you make to buy Storm food?” Remy wanted to know. “And not throw it all away on ale?”

Bart’s face darkened. “My drinking habits are none of your business, boy,” he growled, bushy eyebrows drawing together. “I’ll thank you to keep such opinions to yourself.” He rose and stomped across the room to the door, before turning and pointing at Storm. “You and that hatchling are lucky I decided to help,” he snapped. “I swore a long time ago that I wanted nothing to do with dragons; they’ll only break your heart in the end. You’ll see what I’m talking about in time, boy. Keep caring for that dragon, feed it, raise it, love it, give it everything, and you’ll see what I mean soon enough.”

Remy hugged Storm to him and didn’t answer. Bart scratched the back of his neck and sighed.

“Stay here in the cave, the two of you,” he said, stepping toward the exit again. “Don’t go poking around in my house. If the dragon gets hungry, try to keep it occupied until I come back. If you hear anyone, which you shouldn’t, lock the door to the tunnel and hide the dragon. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

He stepped into the tunnel. Remy listened to the footsteps moving away, heard the door creak shut behind Bart, and he was alone.

Except for Storm. Remy gazed down at the dragon, who stared back with glittering purple eyes.

Keep caring for that dragon, feed it, raise it, love it, give it everything, and you’ll see what I mean soon enough.

“What do you think he meant by that?” Remy asked Storm, who blinked and twitched the end of his tail. “You don’t think Bart ever had a dragon, do you? Well, even if he did, it doesn’t matter. I’ll still take care of you, no matter what. And then, when you do get big enough to ride, we’ll both fly out of here and not look back. What do you think?”

The dragon yawned, showing rows of needle teeth. Squirming from Remy’s arms, he dropped to the blanket, then began tugging and nosing it around until he had made a nest. Curling up once more, he tucked his nose under a wing and closed his eyes. Watching him, Remy wrinkled his nose.

“Hey, you know, that blanket was meant for both of us. Where am I going to sleep?”

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