Page 52 of The Dragoneers of Longbourn and Pemberley
Papa tottered on unsteady legs to a storage crate in one of the unused stalls, and began to paw through it. “I think it’s here somewhere,” he muttered. He pulled out a tangle of leather, and Valeraine approached to get a better look.
“This would never fit me anymore,” he laughed, patting his belly, “but I think it will work for you.”
He handed her a set of flying leathers. She laid them out, untangling them. They were older than what she had seen the other riders wearing, worn and of a cut that was fifty years out of date. However, with those movable buckles, it would certainly fit her. It was harness and armor all in one.
Valeraine hugged her father, and he held her back. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Chapter thirty-seven
After the harvest, Lelantos was needed to burn the fields. As the snows began to stick on the ground and November rolled by, there were more free days in his schedule, and Valeraine took him out to train. She took Lelantos to the mountains, and practiced their climbing and diving through the air. They were a fair distance away from their lands, and it was the perfect test of the endurance of her dragon.
She pushed Lelantos as fast as he could fly, forcing him to stretch and grow. He loved the challenge of it. He was getting faster. She could feel it in the powerful wing-beats below her, in the satisfaction emanating from him. He could feel himself growing stronger, too, and was pleased with the change.
As the weather grew colder, the fields were let to rest until spring, and they spent more time together. With each week, their bond strengthened. More and more, she would bring Kesley along, too. He was good with caring for Lelantos, pampering him between bouts and lifting both their spirits withhis encouragement. Lelantos would still snap at Kesley, lashing out whenever he was irritable, but Valeraine was an adept moderator, and nobody got burned or lost any fingers.
One chilly morning in December, when Valeraine came to the nest, she found not only Kesley waiting for her, but Selaide next to him.
Selaide had come prepared for the weather, dressed warmly and practically. That was the only positive thing that could be said about her sudden interest in dragon riding.
“No,” Valeraine said, and went to walk around Selaide.
Selaide stepped in her way. “But Kesley invited me.”
Kesley held up his hands in immediate surrender. “I said you would have to ask Val, but I didn’t have a problem with it.”
Selaide glared daggers at him, as if he was the unreasonable one here.
“No,” Valeraine repeated. She was not taking Selaide with them.
“Come on, Val. Why not?”
Valeraine searched for a reasonable excuse. “I only packed enough food for Kesley and I.” She patted her bag, which had sandwiches and apples gathered from the kitchen.
“I’ll grab my own food, then,” Selaide said, pleased with herself.
Now, time for the true excuse: “I don’t want you there. You’ll only get in the way, and be bored.”
“You are so unfair!” Selaide whined. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be racing or training or anything.”
“No,” Valeraine said, trying to be firm.
“It’s all pointless, anyway. You’ll never win a derby, even with all the training. You should be using your time to catch a husband, not wasting it out here. Who could ever want you, an unnatural dragon rider? You’re practically a man.” With that, Selaide stuck her chin up high and strutted away.
Selaide was so foolish and vain that she couldn’t see Valeraine was doing all this for Longbourn. Selaide wouldn’t be able to catch a dragoneer husband if Lelantos died and left Longbourn with nothing, would she? Valeraine securing an egg for their house was securing their respectability.
In a way, Valeraine was acting like a man, an older brother. She was their racer, their dragoneer, the one defending the family name. She was the one fighting for them, even if she had to do it behind a mask.
It wasn’t that unnatural, was it?
Selaide certainly thought so. And Mr. Pemberley. But others — Kesley, Alyce, Merna — understood. She was just Valeraine, as she always had been, the dragoneer of Longbourn house.
Kesley was waiting for her to enter the nest (probably not wanting to get on Lelantos’ bad side by himself). He smiled at her, reassuring and confident. His strong jaw wore the expression well, the carefree attitude reinforced by his tousled dark hair and light stubble. Here was one person who did not reign in judgement against her, who didn’t tell her what she was doing was wrong.
“Never mind Selaide,” he said. “She’s just disappointed she’s missing all the fun.” He rummaged in his pockets. “I found this watch,” he said triumphantly. “So we can measure your improvements. I stole it from Mr. Longbourn’s study, but judging from the dust on it, it won’t be missed.”
Valeraine appreciated the change in subject. “That’s perfect.”
They fitted the two-person saddle onto Lelantos’ back. Kesley threw a strap over the dragon’s back and she caught it. She pulled a line and he gave her the slack she needed. They worked in perfect harmony, rehearsed with long practice. The familiarity comforted her, reassured her fears. He would always be here, helping her secure saddles and timing her and packing sweets for their outings.
