Page 69 of The Dragoneers of Longbourn and Pemberley
“I do enjoy some romance,” Valeraine acknowledged. She smiled, thinking of the little romances he had been giving to her. Perhaps this was part of a plan, working up to a proposal after all.
Her clothes bag in hand, Valeraine began walking off the field. She started to pass Rosings’ white dragon. Perhaps she assumed that it would only be nasty at the urging of its spiteful owner, but she did not even think to give it a wider berth. As she walked by, its jaws snaked down to bite her. She flinched away, but the dragon teeth still closed on her skirt, tearing through the faded blue fabric and exposing her petticoats underneath. She gave a yelp as she hopped away, more from shock than any pain.
Lelantos reacted to her yelp as she never would have expected. Lelantos of the Longbourn nest was complacent, slow to move. He would have been precise with his assistance, not urgent. Now, nest-tetchy, he had been waiting for an excuse to attack something.
As Valeraine hit the ground from her tumble, Lelantos leaped and brought his head protectively over her. His tethers were snapped. He roared, so loud that her ears were ringing, so loud that she felt the rumble in her chest and in the ground below her. His anger was a roiling thing, confused and scared for Valeraine, excited at the confrontation, furious with the white dragon.
The white dragon flared its wings open, coming up on its hind legs and brandishing its front claws. It tried to bound forward, but got snapped back by its tethers.
Lelantos answered with smoke curling out of his mouth. He came up on his hind legs, spreading his wings wide. They stretched to fill Valeraine’s whole view, displaying his gargantuan age.
He took a great inhale, and then spewed fire. The fire was shockingly hot, like a forge or a raging inferno. It whooshed over her head, and yet she still felt it vaporizing every bit of moisture from her skin. The snow around them glistened as it began to melt.
The jet of flame hit the white dragon in the face, who recoiled. The whiteness of his scales seemed undamaged, but the harnesses and tack on the dragon — made of leather and ropes — caught flame and merrily burned. The metal rings of the harness were glowing yellow, and warped as the white dragon pulled against his tethers.
Mr. Rosings, hearing the commotion, had come running back into the fray. “Sidton! Get that dragon under control!” He went to a bag behind the saddle (which was singed, but not actively burning) and grabbed out a wicked whip, with rocks braided in it. He flicked it in front of his dragon’s eyes, immediately gaining its attention and stillness.
Valeraine jumped to her feet. Rosings was right about one thing: Lelantos was out of control. She turned to her dragon partner, her other half, and felt the rage in his heart. Lelantos was so irritated, so anxious, so outraged that another dragon would attack his rider.
She spread her arms wide, in a parody of his spread wings. She was trying to say, “Stop, and let me hug you.” She walked forward to his neck, slow step after step, hoping that between Rosings and Lelantos, the white dragon wouldn’t attack herwhen her back was turned. Lelantos settled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and his wings came in around her, making a tent of protection.
Lelantos was much warmer than he typically was, but it wasn’t hot enough to be uncomfortable. It was a blanket around her. She sat there for a minute, feeling the peace tick by around her as the situation deescalated.
She was roused from her meditation by Rosings yelling and arguing with someone.
“— fired on my dragon! You must throw them out.”
She pushed gently on Lelantos’ wing until he moved it so she could walk away from his embrace. It was time to face reality.
Kesley returned, “It was your dragon that attacked Miss Longbourn first, unprovoked.”
Mr. Pemberley, apparently the target of their arguments, stood on the field. He was breathing hard, as if he had run there. He did not look at Valeraine. He said, “Neither racer appeared to encourage this behavior in their dragons, and so I will not ban either.”
“But —”
“No, Royce. You should be content I am not throwing you out for starting this mess. Now get your dragon tethered somewhere else. You can borrow harnesses to replace your burned ones; I’ll tell a servant to help you.”
Rosings left with his dragon, both of them stomping and sputtering.
“Good luck in the air, Mr. Sidton,” Pemberley said, but his eyes were on Valeraine. The last time he had spoken to her, he had uttered her name with such anguish and passion that it still haunted her. Now, he used someone else’s name entirely.
“And to you,” Valeraine answered.
With that, Pemberley turned on his heel and left.
Valeraine watched him go. Should she run after him? She still wanted to pledge she would keep his secret.
Kesley put an arm around her shoulders, supportive and comforting. “Are you all right?”
She nodded.
“You know, you could consider not racing.”
Valeraine stepped away from him and his embrace. “What? Why?”
“Lelantos is already breathing fire at small provocations. Imagine what he might do during the race.”
Valeraine could see the logic to it, but refused to bow. “He’ll be fine.” She trusted her dragon, didn’t she?
