Page 36 of The Infirmary for Dragon Burns and Midair Mishaps

“Does he know that that dragon isn’t a pet? Has someone told him how dangerous it will be to even attempt to tame it?”

Trystan shot me a wry grin. “When you grow up being told dragon blood runs in your veins, I don’t think you care much what people say. The Dragon King wants the biggest dragon of them all.” Trystan held his arms out in a grand fashion. “So the kingsguard has been ordered to deliver him such a dragon.”

Unease ran through me at his words. If I’d learned anything after all these years wrangling, it was that a bond could not be forced. Dragons were too intelligent for that. If they wanted to bond with a rider and live among humans, they would. And if they didn’t… They would fight, and that was always a messy affair.

Without a mutual respect between rider and dragon, I didn’t know how the king expected to sit upon the Wretch, never mind actually ride the thing. “Well, it’s not far now,” I murmured. “You can already hear the roars on the wind.”

“How long do you think we have?” Trystan asked. “A few days still?”

I shrugged. “Maybe less.” I studied his expression. He’d shed his armor, but he still carried his sword at his waist. A sword that was nothing more than a twig to a dragon like the one they were attempting to capture. I thought of our days as children together, to memories of throwing ourselves on the backs of wild horses and getting tossed. I remembered jumping right back up with a smile, only to do it all over again. There would be no jumping back up against a dragon like this, and my concern for him grew. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

His expression softened, a teasing smile curling his lips. “You don’t have to worry about me, little sister. If I recall, I’ve always been the one to bail you out of trouble.”

“This isn’t a little trouble in a capital pub,” I said seriously. “The mountains aren’t the same as the palace grounds. And this is no ordinary dragon.”

“I realize that.”

“No, Trystan. I don’t think any of you do. Listen, some dragons aren’t meant to be ridden,” I said. “It’s just a plain fact. And they’re certainly not meant to be caught.”

If Trystan was any more concerned by my words, he didn’t let it show. But I knew a healthy dose of fear lived beneath his breastbone. For no amount of metal, no sigil of the king, was going to halt the Wretch’s fire. And as handsome and good-natured as Trystan was, he was no fool.

“The goal is to capture it from a distance.” He reached out to squeeze my hand. To assuage my fears. “If all goes well⁠—”

“If,” I said. “I hate that word.”

Even if they managed to capture the thing, they still had to somehow subdue it long enough to make the journey back to the capital, where the palace dragon tamers could work with the creature. A lot of things in that equation had to go exactly right for no one to get hurt.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder, forcing a bright smile. “All will be well. Besides, I’m supposed to be the one worrying about you. When did you grow so risk-averse? The Vaela I know would have been chomping at the bit to get a front row seat to the capturing of the Wretch. Stars, you’d be in there yourself if the kingsguard would allow it.”

I sighed. That girl he was talking about had learned that the older you get, the harder you fall. And with each injury, it was more difficult to stitch yourself back together. I flexed my hand, feeling the puncture wound in my palm. The skin was tight, already trying to knot itself back together thanks to Eden’s handiwork. But what if next time there was no stitching me back together? Every year that passed, I realized that became more of a reality.

“Vaela?” He tilted his head. “What happened to the girl who’d jump on the back of wild horses?”

I huffed a laugh and tilted my head, giving him a pointed look. “She broke her leg in multiple places, remember?”

Trystan hummed, thumping his hand against the side of his tankard. He didn’t like talking about the accident. Neither did I, most of the time. It did nothing but stir up painful memories.

“Any other person would have learned their lesson back then,” I said.

“And did you?” he quipped, the corner of his lips twitching.

We both knew the answer to that. I’d never let the injury limit me in any way. I’d gotten out of bed the following week and stumbled right out the door after Trystan, back to the horse yard. It certainly hadn’t stopped me from continuing to put my life on the line for no reason but my own stupidity.

It was all a bit of fun, I used to think. All a bit of a rush.

Because if the worst was to happen, it’s not like there’d be a line-up of people left behind to mourn me. Trystan would, for a time. And I’d be sorry to hurt him. But our mother was gone and our father would probably regard that letter with the same stern grimace he always wore when it came to me, right before casting it aside.

There was no one else in my life to worry about hurting. And that had led me to being reckless at times.

My thoughts flashed briefly to Eden with her ear pressed to Min’s chest. To the wonder I’d seen in her eyes earlier as she’d listened to Min’s heart sing. To the genuine sympathy she’d offered when she understood the reality of Min’s situation.

For a beat, I couldn’t shake Eden from my thoughts. It was getting harder with every day that passed. I flexed my hand again, the wound smarting. Perhaps there was more than a rush to worry about now. Perhaps I wanted someone to worry for me. To tell me I was reckless and remind me to be careful and… I squeezed Trystan’s hand again. “Just don’t make me drag your body back to Father. He already thinks so little of me.”

Trystan’s face fell. His mouth dropped open, like he meant to say something to dismiss that sad reality, but we both knew it was true. We tended not to speak of our father past the expected pleasantries: the old man was alive and well, conquering the council with the best of them, eager to sit at the right hand of the king. After a long beat, Trystan said, “He’ll be glad to know that I’ve seen you. That you’re well.”

“He’ll be happier if you return to him.” The golden son. I’d never begrudged him his position. Trystan had always cared for me, supported me. And he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. The weight of Father’s expectations.

I had none of that to weigh me down.