The Dragon’s Song

Chapter Three Missy

We sat down around the table and said grace. I couldn’t help thinking this might be my last meal at home for some time. Every new trainee had to travel to the capital to study under the elders, learning how best to bond with their new dragon partners.

Of course, thanks to my mother, the squadron leader for our local dragon-and-human forces, I already knew more than most. I’d learned everything from riding techniques to scale care, with help from Bellisama, her mate Solvan, and Solvan’s human family.

“Will Solvan be at the ceremony?” I asked, picturing the massive pewter-scaled dragon who had always felt like a second father to me. Bellisama was like a second mother, and between them and my parents, I’d grown up surrounded by care and wisdom.

How could I miss what may be a monumental day for our families? A deep, earthy voice rumbled in my mind. I turned to the window and there he was—Solvan himself, sitting proudly in our courtyard beside Bellisama. For you to think I’d miss this, I thought we raised you better than that.

“Please forgive me, Papa Sol,” I said quickly, cheeks warming. “I guess I’m just nervous. Are Penny and her family coming here, or meeting us at the schoolhouse?”

Penny was one of Solvan’s human children, only a few months younger than me. We’d been inseparable since birth, as close as sisters. She wasn’t of age yet—she’d have to wait a few more months for her own Choosing—but she promised she’d be there to cheer me on.

They’ll meet us at the schoolhouse, Solvan replied, reaching for the pile of fruit in the courtyard. Both he and Bellisama began eating. Dragons could go days without food if they had to, but when given the chance, they delighted in fruit almost as much as meat. Now finish your breakfast, so we can get going.

The schoolhouse was the largest building in the village. It held lessons in reading, writing, and arithmetic for the children, but it also served as our gathering hall. Every Choosing was held there. Not only would this year’s eligible hopefuls attend, but so would those from previous years who had not yet been chosen—ever holding onto the chance that one day, a dragon’s song might claim them.

Penny’s older brother, Benjamin, was one of them. He had participated three times. The first two years he heard dragon songs, but none of the dragons chose him. Last year had been the hardest—he heard no songs at all. Even so, he persisted, and now he had built a respected life training horses to work around dragons, a skill vital to the kingdom. Soon he would marry. Not everyone destined for the Choosing found a dragon, but many still found their purpose.

As we finished eating, I cleared the dishes. Ma always said a clean house was a happy house, and on Choosing Day, happiness felt important. The road to the schoolhouse would already be lined with craftsmen setting up stalls. The Choosing always had the feel of a festival—a fair full of food, laughter, and hope—even for those who went home unchosen.

My mother, Captain Berkshire, was busy preparing upstairs. She would wear her dress uniform and all her finery; as captain, she presided over today’s ceremony. She was the daughter of a general—my grandfather—and many whispered that she might soon be one herself. A quadrant was made up of several villages and towns, each led by captains who reported to the general. But at the moment, our quadrant had no general. A replacement would be announced soon, and I hoped with all my heart that the king would choose her.

I was drying the last plate when a knock sounded at the front door.

“Missy, can you get that? I’m still getting ready!” my mother called from upstairs.

“Got it!” I answered, hurrying down the hall. Through the window, I spotted a third dragon in our courtyard.

When I opened the door, a man stood there in the king’s colors, an official envelope in his hand.

“I have a message for Captain Berkshire,” he said gruffly. “Is she here?”

“She is, but she’s dressing for the Choosing,” I replied.

“I was told to deliver this to her in person. Fetch her, please.”

I invited him into the foyer—Mama raised me to be polite—then hurried upstairs. She was pinning the last of her hair in place.

“There’s a king’s messenger here,” I told her, handing her the final pin. “He says he’s supposed to deliver a letter to you in person.”

“Must be important,” she said, giving me a grateful smile before stepping out to meet him.

“Captain Berkshire, I presume?” the messenger asked, bowing slightly.

“Yes, I am.” My mother held out her insignia: a polished red dragon scale, engraved with the name of our village. Each captain bore one, and it was impossible to counterfeit. Dragon scales were so hard that only diamonds could carve them—an extravagance only nobles and royals could afford. Generals bore golden scales, engraved the same way.

The messenger nodded, satisfied. “I have a message for you directly from His Majesty, King Ronald.”

He handed her the envelope. She broke the wax seal bearing the king’s insignia. As she opened it, something glittering slipped free and clattered to the floor.

I gasped.

It was a golden scale