Page 87 of The Dragoneers of Longbourn and Pemberley
The burned mask had been left behind.
She was displayed before all the crowd as Miss Valeraine Longbourn, dragoneer.
Chapter fifty-seven
Valeraine was ruined.
She was attracting stares from the dragoneers and their supporters on the ground. People were already pointing, exclaiming to their neighbors.
A woman! A woman had been riding that dragon.
She would be identified in moments. In a matter of weeks, all of Kinella would have heard of the feminine rider of Longbourn.
She would be a social pariah, a stain on her house.
She quickly slid down to the ground, free without a tether to unclasp. Her pounding heart told her to hide, but it wouldn’t do any good. Her face had been clearly seen, and Lelantos’ registration number had been dutifully written down by a race official. The proof of Longbourn’s degradation was out in the world.
Valeraine numbly led Lelantos to a hook in the ground, tethering him loosely. He wouldn’t cause any trouble now. He was exhausted, but she felt a glow of pride. It had been anextraordinary race, and they both knew it — however they had placed. She tried to keep the encroaching doubts of her own heart from touching his. At least one of them should enjoy this.
They might have won the Royal derby, and still lost dignity for Longbourn in one fell swoop.
She needed to know if they had come in first, and accept the prize egg if so. It had been too close for her to tell, and she would have to rely on the derby’s officials to announce it.
Now was not the time for hiding, but for hoping. Hoping Lelantos’ dive had taken them to the ground fast enough, and hoping the derby’s officials would give over the grand prize to a woman.
A stage had been set and decorated before the derby, and Valeraine made her way to it, along with a crowd of dragoneers and spectators. A man in an immaculate suit stood on the stage, watching the sky with a pleased air as more dragons landed in the field, assistants scurrying about to record their registration numbers.
“Once the top twenty dragons are tallied, we will give the announcement of the winners,” the master of ceremonies called.
Nobody cared about the dragons still in the air now — the ones that had been slowed by the plethora of fights. The brawls were entertaining, but not to be praised on the stage. They were the heart of the sport, but they were covered over by the more attractive scales and wings of the winners.
Valeraine pushed to the front of the crowd, being jostled along the way. Nobody was paying attention to her, nobody noticed one more push in the rowdy crowd. They would notice her soon, the woman in trousers, the woman daring to claim a prize.
Sitting right before the stage was a man dressed in finery, surrounded by other important-looking men and servants. It must be the Prince Regent, here to honor the winners. Valeraine had only ever seen his face on coins.
Uncle Haupter was also at the front of the crowd, studiously taking notes with other Press, in their stylish clothes and with notebooks ready. He hadn’t seen her yet. Valeraine wondered if he would be kind, or if he would disavow her with his typical honesty inThe Dragoneer’s Journal.
A clerk, brandishing a paper above his head, ran through the crowd. The crowd parted around him, quieting as they realized this was the moment. The paper was handed to the master of ceremonies, who said, “Places twenty through four will be posted momentarily, and we congratulate those riders. But, we are here to celebrate and honor the best dragoneers in Kinella! So, in third place, and with a prize of 1,000 pounds, is the dragon Quillest, ridden by Mr. Erncis of Newmount house.”
The dragoneer came out of the crowd to cheering, and accepted his prize onstage.
“In second place and with a prize of 3,000 pounds is the dragon Amaranth, ridden by Mr. Bennington of Pemberley house.” The crowd applauded, and Pemberley was helped up onto the stage. He limped across it with the support of a crutch, and was handed a bundle of banknotes.
“And in first place, the fastest dragon in Kinella, with a prize of 5,000 pounds and an egg bred in the Kinellan Crown Nest, is Lelantos, ridden by Mr. Yaeksley of Sidton house.”
Valeraine stood paralyzed.
They had really won. Lelantos and his old bones had out-raced all the dragons of Kinella. She had never been so proud of her dragon.
And the credit was going to Kesley and his house.
Kesley materialized from the crowd and sprang up to the stage, bowing roguishly to a round of applause. He looked the picture of a successful rider: poised, but rumpled as if from a rough race (Valeraine took satisfaction that the true reason for the dirt on his clothes was her and Lelantos).
Valeraine’s next move would change everything, whatever she did. People had seen her on the winning dragon, unmistakable with his long wrinkly wings. However, here was Kesley, taking the credit, muddying the truth. That might be enough to confuse the rumors and let her escape with her reputation intact. There would always be whispers that she had been the rider, but without any proof. The press were scribbling in their notebooks even now that Sidton house had won.
She could let Kesley take the credit and the egg for his house, and escape the disastrous consequences of her actions. It would be like she hadn’t flown in the Royal derby at all.
Longbourn would wither away with Lelantos, and she would be forgotten as a spinster.
