Page 33 of The Dragoneers of Longbourn and Pemberley
“You ride for Longbourn,” Pemberley asserted.
Previously, Valeraine had heard his voice flatly passionless. She had heard it gently amused. She had heard it dismissive, condescending, nervous, curt, and with indignation.
Now, he was angry.
She wondered if he was about to hurt her. Perhaps he would start with undoing the bandage and stitches he had gifted her.
Pemberley took a step toward her, looming over her. “Do not try to deny it,” he hissed.
There was still nothing for Valeraine to answer, so she stayed silent.
“I do not mean you simply ride Lelantos to and fro, which is a matter of public knowledge,” he said. “I mean that you are the rider in the derby, the masked rider who races for Longbourn house on that old dragon.”
Her continued silence seemed only to enrage him further.
“Are you the rider for Longbourn?” he demanded.
He was demanding so much more than a simple yes from her. He was demanding her honesty, her confidence, her dignity, and the reputation of her house. He was demanding that she surrender to him, answer to him as if he was the judge determining her sentence. He was demanding that she bow tohis authority, accept his statutes. He was demanding everything of her soul.
It was an easy thing to say she was the rider for Longbourn. She was. It was true. She had told Merna earlier today, and it had been no great sacrifice (though it had included some worry at the reaction).
Valeraine could not answer Pemberley. She was not willing to submit to him, even to secure Longbourn. In that moment, she discarded her careful intentions to go along with Pemberley for tonight. She decided to be wild instead, and take herself on the offensive.
“You are odious,” she said.
Pemberley took a step back in shock, no longer close enough to touch her. The move gave her confidence, and she stepped nearer to him, closing the space again.
“You pretend to race with honor, and yet you attack your fellow dragoneers,” Valeraine spat. “You come to the derbies looking for riders to vanquish, and then to the balls looking for families to insult.”
“You ride without honor, scared to even show your face,” Pemberley said. “You are wholly unsuited to dragoneering, both because of who you are and your lack of training.”
“Youare a disgrace to your house. All of us hate you, for your haughty ways and how you refused to dance at Netherfield. We see your pride, your vanity.”
“Perhaps Longbourn was a grand house once,” Pemberley said, “but those days are long over, and what finally killed them was you supposing that you could ever be a noble rider.”
“We have a dragon — more noble than yours — and despite being hundreds of years older than your mount we nearly out-raced you today.”
“To have a woman be so poorly mannered that she supposed she could race a dragon is unthinkable, and I would have saidit impossible, until you proved me wrong. You excel at that, at failure.” Pemberley stopped to take a breath, and that was his mistake.
In that moment of silence, they heard the whooshing of dragon wings, and the growl of a dragon on the hunt.
Valeraine knew immediately where the growl had come from. She had heard it before, and a ringing in her heart confirmed it.
Lelantos landed in the garden, crushing plants that were probably beautiful in the day’s light. He positioned himself behind Valeraine, his front legs bracketing her on either side, his head angling down to point his ire at Pemberley.
She could feel Lelantos’ fury at Pemberley, perfectly mirroring her own. Amplified then by his nest-tetchiness, and his hunger, and his discomfort of not being cared for after the derby. She could feel all of this within him, as he could feel her anger and hurt. Smoke curled from Lelantos’ nose, threatening and barely visible in the night. But any dragoneer knew to watch for it, and it was noticed by both of them.
Pemberley scrambled back three steps. He didn’t retreat farther than that, not one to lose his composure because of a dragon. But then his eyes locked on her. Not on Lelantos, ready to breathe fire in his face. The astonishment of his slack jaw was all for her, the dragoneer who had summoned reinforcements. The undeniable bond between dragon and rider. He didn’t say another word.
Valeraine walked to Lelantos’ side, and he obligingly kneeled to let her climb on. She was finished arguing with Pemberley. He would tell whom he would that she was the masked rider, and all the arguments in the world would never sway him.
Valeraine and Lelantos lifted off.
Pemberley didn’t shout anything after her. He just watched them leave. Whatever he would do next, it would be much worse than what he had been planning to do before she had insultedhim and then threatened him with a dragon — that much Valeraine was certain of.
Chapter twenty-six
Valeraine landed Lelantos in the field for the visiting dragons. There were metal loops to tether a dragon dotted all over, allowing them to spread out safely. She dismounted, grabbing a rope from the saddlebags as she went. Lelantos’ area of the field was a little muddy, pulling at her fine dancing shoes. They would be forever stained from this mess.
