Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 126358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
“That’s an excellent question, Cadet.” Master Yarsmouth abruptly raised his voice, and I saw he was staring right at me with sharp brown eyes.
“Er, thank you, Master,” I said quickly, hoping he wasn’t offended.
“Why don’t you repeat your question for the entire class—I’m not sure everyone heard you,” he said dryly.
Feeling my cheeks get hot for probably the fourth or fifth time that day—I wished my skin wasn’t so fair and didn’t show a blush so easily—I repeated my question in a louder tone.
“What happens if a cadet tries to claim an egg that doesn’t want him?” I asked.
“Well, first of all, it never goes well,” Master Yarsmouth said. “Either the egg won’t hatch or, in the worst-case scenario, it will hatch but it will refuse to bond with the candidate who claimed it. In that case, we have a wild, unbonded dragon on our hands, which can cause a lot of damage as it grows. Without a rider to bond with it, a dragon’s strong emotions will rule it and cause it to become dangerous.”
“What happens to the candidate who chose the egg in that case? I mean, if the drakeling won’t bond with him when it hatches?” one of my classmates asked.
“He’s shunned from the Academy, and he will be responsible for paying for the meat that dragon eats every day for the rest of his life. Do you know how much it costs to feed a growing dragon?” Master Yarsmouth pinned us all with a foreboding stare. “Let me tell you, Cadets—it is not cheap. You could bankrupt a Great House trying to feed a Gold or Silver-wing without the Academy’s help.”
There were some low whistles and murmurs from the boys around me.
“So don’t try to pretend an egg is choosing you if it isn’t.” Master Yarsmouth shook one bony finger at us. “A drakeling that doesn’t want you is impossible to bond with and you’ll just end up paying to feed it the rest of your life. It’s not worth it.”
I wondered how often it happened that a cadet tried to claim an egg that didn’t want him. I supposed it was probably a temptation—it must be hard to be the only one without an egg on Impression Day.
“What about the egg colors—do they tell what kind of dragon is in the egg?” another cadet wanted to know.
Master Yarsmouth frowned and shook his head.
“That’s the most common question we get, and the answer is not at all. The color of the egg does not tell what kind of dragon will hatch from it. Take this one…”
He strode over to a deep purple egg that had a golden sheen to it. He pointed at it, but I noticed that he didn’t touch it.
“You’d think because of the coloring this egg must surely hold a Midnight Gold-wing, wouldn’t you?”
There were some nods and murmurs of agreement.
“Well, it might,” Master Yarsmouth agreed, nodding. “But then again, it might just hold a common Brown. Remember the old saying—‘you can’t tell by the shell.’ Also, a Gold or Silver or Bronze-wing might come from a smaller egg and common Blue or Green might come from a larger one. You simply won’t know what kind of dragon you’re getting until it hatches.”
“So there’s no way at all to predict what you’re going to get?” Bugs asked, frowning.
“I’ll tell you what you’re going to get, boy, if you’re lucky enough to be chosen.” Master Yarsmouth frowned at him. “You’ll get the best friend of your life—a being who loves you more than anything or anyone else in this whole benighted world. Take it from a man who lost his dragon—it’s a love like no other, so you’d better not take it for granted.”
His brown eyes shimmered for a moment, and I realized he was on the verge of tears. My heart clenched in my chest for him. I didn’t really understand the bond between a dragon and its rider, but I’d seen the passionate intensity of emotion my father shared with F’lorn. When both of them chose to die together, I’d understood that they couldn’t bear to be separated, even in death.
How difficult must it be for Master Yarsmouth to be here watching as new riders found their dragons on every Hatching Day, knowing that his own dragon was gone and could never be replaced? Because once bonded to one dragon, a rider could never bond to another. If he lost his dragon that part of him—the part that was able to form a mental and emotional connection with a dragon—was an open wound that could never be healed.
I felt for him deeply as he turned for a moment and sniffed loudly. When he turned back to us, his eyes were dry, but I could see the pain etched on his face. I wished I could do something to distract him from the obviously sad memories he was probably having of his lost dragon, so I raised my hand again.