Page 53 of Veiled Flames
“A dragon will know.”
“How?” She shakes her head. “And why does that matter?”
“Dragons form strong bonds with their riders. It’s difficult to describe the connection once you mount. And…”
“And?” Her expression remains firm.
“Dragons only bond with men. Withstrongmen. Men whom they respect enough to sacrifice some control.”
She frowns. “How many women have tried to make such a bond?”
“That’s not the point.”
“It’sexactlythe point.” She leans away from me. “If no woman hastried, then how can you know they cannot?”
“Rosomon.” I shift toward her.
She stands, frowning at me as I remain on the cot.
“I first bonded with Surath—” I shake my head. “I was a dragon rider before you wereborn.” She must see reason. “And I’ve been a master forten. I know how dragons think. And what it takes to control one.” I clear my throat. “Given my vast experience and knowledge, I can say with certainty, women cannot ride dragons. They lack the strength.” Amongst other things.
Her eyes narrow. “Youcan’tknow that. Not with certainty. Not if no woman has been allowed to try.”
I sigh. This is going nowhere. Rosomon is beyond stubborn, and I suppose, in other circumstances it’s a trait of hers I much admire.
“Even if I accept that it’spossiblefor one of the very smallest dragons to accept a female rider.” I shake my head. “Women lack the required strength to ride, and their bodies are not equipped to survive a mounting.”Not to mention the knotting.“And just as important, they lack the strength and combat skills required to slay the demons that break through the veil.” She has no idea what it means to be a dragon rider.
“Demons?” Her skin noticeably pales. I’ve finally convinced her.
But her chin rises again, determination and stubbornness bubbling palpably in her chest.
“I can well handle weapons,” she says. “Better than most of those boys, I expect.”
I shake my head. She’s grasping at straws now. Lying.
“Ican. I learned with my brothers and easily bested both of them in all forms of combat training. I’m a particularly good archer.”
Every time I try to reason with Rosomon, she comes up with a new argument. It’s time to put my foot down.
“This discussion is over,” I tell her firmly. “You won’t enter camp as a rider candidate. I won’t allow it.”
Her shoulders visibly shift, as if my words struck her, and her eyes fill with despair. She drops to her knees in front of me where I sit on the cot.
“Please, Saxon.Please. At least let metry.”
“No.” I cup her chin. “I have no wish to see you die.”
“I don’t want to die, but every part of me says I was born to ride dragons.”
I shake my head, but she continues.
“I’ve never felt right in the world. Never felt as if I belonged.” She blinks as if her words are surprising her too. “I know that sounds ungrateful. I know how lucky I am to have been born a princess. But I also know that I’m destined for more. I’ve always wanted something else, somethingbigger. And for the first time in my life, I know what that something is. I want to ride dragons. I want to protect the Seven Kingdoms. I want to do all I can to restore peace and stability to the Kingdoms of Light, and to make my father proud.”
Her outburst steals my ability to speak. Rosomon is so certain. So adamant. So determined.
Not only am I struck dumb, I’m filled with regret. Because the things I love most about Rosomon are the things I must now destroy.
I love her bravery. I love her sense of adventure and determination. I love how she expects so much of herself—far too much. But right now, she wants the impossible.
