Page 121 of Veiled Flames
As I wait, nerves scramble inside me. What if this plan doesn’t work? What if someone spots me?
I work to control my breathing. I spent years sneaking past the guards at my father’s gate, blending in with merchants and farmers. I can do it again.
I don my riding cap to hide my hair. No one in the group is wearing theirs, but I’m the only one at camp with pink hair.
Egon is leading the group as they approach my hiding place.
“I should be the first,” he belts out, sounding angry. “If the dragon I pick tries to buck me, I’ll wrestle the beast into submission.”
I shake my head. With his clumsy, brutish approach toward life, I’m shocked that Egon even passed the test to touch a dragon and earn his place at camp. I’m far from an expert, but any attempt to force a dragon into submission, to force a dragon to doanything, seems very wrong headed.
Tailing the group, I spot Samyull, pulling a cart loaded with weapons. Bows and quivers of arrows clatter as the cart rolls over rocks in the path.
I sneak out from behind my boulder and fall into place beside him, keeping my eyes ahead. I don’t think he’ll alert the others, but I can’t be certain. Samyull’s a friend, but I misled him too.
“Rosshall?” he says softly. “Are you truly a girl?”
I nod and then flick my gaze toward him.
His eyes are wide with alarm. “Everyone’s looking for you.”
I put my finger to my lips, hoping to silence him, but everyone else is so boisterous, no one has taken notice of the servant walking behind them.
“Here,” he says as we approach the now opened door. “You pull the wagon through the gates. You’ll draw less notice that way.”
Gratitude floods me as I take the long, looped rein from him and place it around my chest to pull. He falls in behind the cart as if making sure nothing falls off.
We pass safely through the gates.
“But I am prepared—today!” Egon shouts.
I can’t see who he’s talking to, and dare not change positions to find out.
“You are here today for a lesson,” Treacher says loudly. “To observe. No one in this group will attempt a mounting today and that isfinal.”
Murmurs roll through the group.
“Today,someof you will walk across the walls. But under no circumstances will you touch a dragon or try to mount.”
“What’s the point of this, sir?” someone asks.
“On the day you attempt a mounting,” Treacher answers, “nerves will mar your balance. Today you’ll gain confidence crossing the walls. You’ll get your first chance to test your balance and learn their surfaces and heights.”
“And we will observe the dragons’ reactions as you pass them,” Saxon adds.
My heart stutters. If Saxon sees me, this is over.
Samyull leans in close. “I’m to take these weapons to the armory,” he says. “What’s your plan? Can I help?”
I smile at him softly, so glad that my lie didn’t destroy our friendship. “I’m not certain,” I tell him. It’s the truth, although not the whole truth. But as generous as he’s being right now, I fear he might do something to stop me, if I tell him I plan to mount a dragon.
“Take this.” He removes his coat. It’s the same one worn by all male servants while outdoors. “If you wear this, no one will notice you.” I hand him the reins for the cart and gratefully accept his coat. It easily slips over and covers my riders’ uniform.
“Thank you.” I wish I was brave enough to hug Samyull. I might have enough courage to mount a dragon, but not enough to do anything that might risk my exposure right now.
“Good luck,” Samyull says, then he dons the rein for his cart and pulls it away. Part of me wants to follow to see where the armory is located, or to grab weapons from his cart, but I don’t want to cause him trouble.
The dragon masters have already taken the lift down to the enclaves, and my compeers, in groups of four, are following behind. If I head down the trail, someone will spot me from below, so I stick to my strategy of blending in.
