Page 24 of The Dragoneers of Longbourn and Pemberley
The law prohibiting the purchasing of dragon eggs is a wise one, or else we would see dealings like this all the time. Any family with some money couldpretend to the grandeur of being a dragon house and make it reality. Only the crown can be trusted with purchasing eggs and dragons on behalf of the army. Indeed, the W— family should accept their lot, instead of stirring up new trouble. They lost their dragon, and will never be a dragon house again.
I do offer my condolences to the family. The patriarch was recently killed in a street brawl. My informant at the Constabulary said it was likely due to the comprehensive gambling debts that he accumulated in the last year. Perhaps he could have paid them if not for the egg-buying of his son. It is sad the family has fallen so far into complete destitution.
But perhaps that is the fate of all families who lose the status of a dragon house. Without the majestic beasts to prop them up, they collapse into ruin. It is a twisted curse that seems to bite upon the family, poisoning everything.
If only either of these men had accepted his lot with grace and courage, they could have avoided the sting. If they had gone into the army, they could have used their dragoneering experience to assist matters there, and kept the privilege of associating with them — if only the most nest-tetchy and deplorable versions of dragons, as tend to end up in the army.
Chapter twenty-two
Just before the derby was due to start, Valeraine walked onto the field at Rosings, leading Lelantos by the reins. There were at least a dozen dragons crowding the field, packed close to each other.
She checked her mask. It was still secure. She was ready for this.
There was a jerk on the reins that she held. Lelantos had planted his feet and his attention was on the marauding dragons before them. The dragons were behaving as they always did when away from their nests: snapping at each other, barely restrained by their dragoneers. The noise was riotous as they growled and hissed at each other, and occasionally a plume of smoke would foretell of greater danger.
Lelantos let out a growl of his own, menacing and loud. Two dragons on the edge of the mess snapped around to attend his call, their posture matching his: hostile.
Valeraine rushed to move a comforting hand down his neck. As she came in contact with him, his feelings surged into her: anger, annoyance, frustration, the urge to fight, dominate, destroy.
She flinched away, repulsed.
This wasn’t her dragon. Her Lelantos was mild, only sometimes grumpy. He didn’t attack things. He didn’t pick fights with other dragons.
But the Lelantos before her was nest-tetchy, far from home and far from his calm center. The other dragons were calling growls back at him. He would answer them again, and the dominance games would escalate. What could she do? She didn’t have the strength to pull him away, and had no idea how to handle an agitated dragon.
How did the dragoneers do it? She had seen them all her life, commanding their dragons with shouted words, with whips, with prods, with muzzles. The dragons around her were all securely tethered down to rings cemented into the ground, keeping them far enough from each other to not directly attack.
Should she join them?
It seemed Lelantos needed tethering. He could launch into a fight at any moment.
The cold realization sunk into her bones. She didn’t trust him. Didn’t trust her dragon anymore. With a simple journey two days from home, he had been transformed into a monster whom she didn’t recognize. She had never been more aware of his destructive potential than she was in that moment. His emotions were still echoing within her, nasty and hateful. He was spoiling for a fight, feeling challenged and threatened by the other dragons.
Lelantos was afraid, too.
Valeraine took off her glove. She put her hand back to his neck, and felt again the negative passion roiling inside of him. Shefocused on the fear that was in him, and connected with it. She found her own fear, mirroring his.
She breathed deeply, and found her courage. She tried to feel optimistic, centered, peaceful, assured, and give it all to her partner. They were a team. They would race in this derby, and win. It didn’t matter what fights the other dragons wanted to pick, they would soar above them all.
Lelantos was still irritated, still wanting to fight, but his aggression took a step back, replaced by determination.
Valeraine donned her glove again, then climbed up into his saddle, a task much easier without skirts to wrestle with. She tied herself in, the harness knots coming easily to her from practice.
Her mind kept returning to the moment when, in the air over Netherfield, she had been knocked from her saddle for a perilous moment. This time, she was prepared and secure. She would not be falling off her dragon today.
The butterflies in her stomach had not received the update about the sturdy rope.
She urged Lelantos to walk them nearer to the throng, hoping to get close enough to hear any announcements, like where the race course would be. She counted: there were twelve other dragons. Lelantos made an unlucky thirteen. One dragon was noticeably calmer than the rest, not tugging on his tethers or growling at his neighbors: Royce Rosings’s white, slim dragon. He was at his home nest, assured and confident.
There were at least three hundred spectators, socializing with each other and watching the dragons. She saw money changing hands, last minute bets being placed.
The dragon closest to Lelantos was chittering in his direction. It was a horned burgundy dragon, distressingly familiar. The rider was standing nearby, though it seemed Pemberley had not yet noticed the growing tension between their mounts.
Lelantos rumbled a growl in return. Valeraine pulled out a stick of jerky from her pocket, a desperate distraction, and her dragon’s head immediately jerked her way, looking over his shoulder, sniffing for the treat.
“You, of Longbourn,” Pemberley called.
Valeraine straightened, making her posture solid and confident, like Kesley’s. She gave a brisk nod in acknowledgement.
