Page 26 of The Dragoneers of Longbourn and Pemberley
Maybe that was from the blood loss. Could she already be dizzy from blood loss? She hadn’t lost all that much blood yet.
Maybe it was both.
The lead dragons in the race were dipping down to the midpoint lake, skimming the surface and popping back up, coming straight back toward her. It would be chaos, as it always was, when the packs going forward and backward clashed.
She tilted Lelantos to the side, taking a slightly longer route to loop around and come at the lake from the other direction. This took them out of the path of all the dragons that were beating them in the race. It was slow, but it was safer. Out of the clash.
Valeraine couldn’t brave the thought of being that close to dragon talons. It was better to stay out of it all.
Lelantos touched the lake without incident, skimming it and then climbing back up high, preparing for his favorite maneuver. His gargantuan wings made it easy to rise in the air, unlocking skies much higher than was practical for the other dragons.
A scuffle broke out between two dragons below and ahead of them. Lelantos passed both of them. Ninth place.
Then eighth place, as another dragon below them flagged.
Then, seventh, sixth as a fight broke out.
She was close enough to see the dragon in the lead: deep red with wicked horns all along its spine. Pemberley, of course. Behind him was Rosings’s white, flying smoothly and calmly.
Rosings manor loomed in the distance, coming nearer with every second.
Lelantos could still win this. They had the elevation, and that could be turned into speed. Their dive to the finish would have to be while they circled the manor, and hope they didn’t hit the building.
“Now! Around the house,” Valeraine shouted.
Lelantos understood, which was just as well because her grip on the reins was becoming looser, her signals to him more erratic and confused, her hands tingling, her head spinning.
He tucked his wings halfway in, and began his dive.
Fifth place.
Coming to the manor house now.
The spectators cheered wildly from below.
A dragon rammed into Rosings’s white — an accident, she thought — and sent them both hitting the house, dust exploding from the crushed stonework.
Third place for her.
Lelantos ducked under the next dragon, securing them second place as their dive took them roughly to the ground in the final field. Dirt sprayed up around them.
Pemberley had beaten her. He had gotten first place.
The derby was over.
They had failed. They hadn’t won.
The fact that they had placed spectacularly well didn’t have any weight, at the moment. There were only two thoughts in Valeraine’s mind: they hadn’t won, and she needed to get out of this disaster and back to Kesley, hiding in the trees.
Valeraine started climbing down off Lelantos, but then realized this was much easier when you had use of both your arms, even when you didn’t have skirts to tangle you. She missed a step on the tack-ladder and fell the last few feet, scraping her shoulder against Lelantos’ side and painting a streak of blood down it. It contrasted splendidly with his green scales.
She should tether him. She should make sure he was secure, and away from the other dragons.
She couldn’t tie those knots with only one hand. It wasn’t going to happen.
Lelantos would be fine, anyhow. He would be well-behaved, probably.
Valeraine walked as fast as she could off the field, the world swaying around her. Lelantos followed at her heel, a small mercy of obedience. He was tired and territorial, she could feel it. And yet he still meekly followed.
