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General Melgren is at the front, and his angry eyes are only on me. General Sorrengail stalks behind him—Violet's mom. She is staring at Saoghal. The roll-keeper scurries along behind them, looking worried. I don't bother to look at the other's faces.

"Colland," Melgren says, his voice commanding. Saoghal immediately breaks off her argument with Tairn and places herself behind me so I stand between her forelegs. Melgren doesn't even spare her a glance. "Can you tell me how you came across this..." finally, his gaze flicks upward, "dragon?" Saoghal bares her teeth.

"Uh...." I scramble for something that's not the whole truth. I doubt he would believe me if I said I was pushed, even though I am assuredly not in the business of protecting my attempted murderers. "I fell." He raises an eyebrow and I blink. "Into a hole." His eyebrow somehow raises further above his eye. "It was a very large hole."

"Was it?" General Melgren says through gritted teeth. "If you weren't aware, Wisteria Colland, this dragon was forbidden from bonding many years ago."

Saoghal growls low in her throat. "Tell him that I was not forbidden from eating impudent puny rats that call themselves humans."

"I'm not going to say that," I reply.

Saoghal snorts. "Are you utterly useless, then?"

I spin around to face her. "Did you bond me simply for the pleasure of insulting me every chance you get?"

Saoghal stares down at me imperiously. "It is a wonderful benefit, I must admit."

I scoff, and turn back to General Melgren. "My dragon...." I ponder Saoghal's words. "Disagrees."

General Sorrengail lifts her upper lip in disgust. "That dragon," she starts. "Is an abom—" She doesn't get to finish, because both Tairn and Saoghal had snapped their mighty jaws at her a mere two feet away. She slams her mouth shut with a glower.

"It is not up to him what I do," Saoghal. "Nor is it up to anyone but myself. Not even that stuck up Empyrean and their laws can restrain me. They brought this on themselves."

"I don't know what that means," I reply slowly. "But does it mean that you're still my dragon?"

"Well, I wouldn't phrase it that way, but yes, essentially. It means that I have made my decision and they cannot argue with it. After all, they cast me out. Why would I listen to them?"

I frown. "Cast you out?" Saoghal is frustratingly silent. I turn my attention back to General Melgren, trying to erase her words from my head. "She says that it's not up to you."

His eyes narrow. "We'll see about that."

But the roll-keeper steps up timidly. "Um...sir?" she mumbles.

General Melgren's gaze snaps toward her. "What?"

"Well...it's just that...she is already bonded," the roll-keeper says. "With Miss Sorrengail, we had two dragons. One to fall back on if the other was not allowed to bond. But if this dragon is taken away, then she would be unbonded. Not entirely fair, considering that she did, in fact, bond a dragon."

"Finally, someone with sense," Saoghal grumbles.

"That dragon," General Melgren waves a hand at Saoghal, "is a liability. She's dangerous. You know what happened last time, as clearly as anyone else."

I frown again. "Last time?" Saoghal, predictably, does not comply.

"I am aware of the...accident," the roll-keeper says carefully. "And I'll admit, it's unfortunate. But everyone deserves a chance."

General Melgren's gaze flicks from the roll-keeper, to me, to Saoghal, and then back again. After a long moment, he growls, "Fine. Get her name down."

The roll-keeper gives the General a tentative smile, and he walks away. General Sorrengail gives me a withering glance and turns after him. She hadn't once looked at Violet throughout the entirety of the argument. The senior riders all trail after the general like a flock of baby ducks waddling after their mother, and I let out a breath of relief I hadn't realized I'd been holding in.

"Your dragon's name, please?" she gives me an encouraging smile.

"Saoghaleile," I murmur.

"Thank you, dear." She looks at me as if contemplating whether or not to pull me into a hug, concern—and is that pity?--rests in her eyes. She settles for placing a hand on my shoulder. "Good luck."

"Thank you," I say, lifting my chin. With that, she gives me one last sad look, and walks away.

. . .

After such a long day, the moment I get into my newly granted private room, I immediately fall onto the bed. The actual, real bed. I'd gotten so accustomed to sleeping on a cot in the barracks I had forgotten what soft sheets felt like.

Rhiannon and Ridoc had approached me after the excitement had died down, eyeing Saoghal with awe. They had hugged me and told me how beautiful she was. How glad they were that I was alive. I decided against telling them who it was that pushed me into the pit to begin with. It would probably ruin the mood. I hadn't gotten the chance to check out the relic Saoghal had given me, I just knew I felt it somewhere around my chest. I could only imagine what it looked like, considering I sure as hell wasn't about to strip down in front of the whole Rider's Quadrant.

I roll over onto my back and let out a breath. Malek. What a fucking day.

I force myself to sit up and open up my rucksack. I now had a place to fully unpack it all, considering this would be my personal living space for the rest of the year. I unpack my clothes and hang them in the armoire, placing my daggers neatly in one drawer and my poisons in the other. I pause when I reach my art supplies.

I hadn't gotten the chance to even open my sketchbook since I got to the Riders Quadrant. I let my rucksack fall to the floor with a quiet thump after I unpack the rest of my things from home, and stare at the worn leather cover.

My dad had got it custom made for me when I was little and had first shown my passion for art. He had had a cluster of wisteria flowers imprinted in the middle of the leather cover, and my name written in boxy but elegant letters above it. I run my hands over those letters, tracing each one as I had done so many times before.

I finally flip open the cover. It begins with my atrocious eight year-old art from twelve years ago. People with disproportionate features, crooked dragon's faces. A few animals that I can hardly identify. It slowly begins to progress as I age, but the real talent begins at fifteen.

My first drawing that I was truly proud of was of Rylan and Reithe. My trainer and his Red Clubtail stood in front of me while I sketched them for hours. Reithe was the only dragon who would be patient enough to do that.

I had depicted Rylan's wide smile perfectly, and Reithe's bored yet tolerant expression as she rested her head on the earth.

I run my fingers lightly over the image, careful not to smudge the lines.

I flip through the rest of the sketch book before I finally come to an empty page. The last entry was from five months ago, a sketch of Oleander and Belladonna as they practiced archery in secret.

I pick up a charcoal stick and whittle the end down to a sharp point with my dagger hanging from my hip. I move over to the small desk in the corner and light a candle, and begin to sketch.

. . .

Hours later, I lean back and study the work.

It's full of people—Rhiannon, Violet, Ridoc, Liam, Sawyer...I even put Xaden in the corner with his scowly face and the little scar over his eyebrow. But the main focus of the image is Saoghal. She sits in the center of the page, tall and proud, the contempt in her gaze clear.

"I believe you captured me quite well."

I jump at her voice in my head before recovering my wits. "Photographic memory. I've got your resting bitch face down."

"You are certainly a joy to be around."

"I could say the same about you," I reply, smiling slightly.

"I notice that the blond boy appears quite a bit in that drawing," Saoghal says. She doesn't bother trying to hide her judgment.

"What's wrong with Liam?" I protest, my cheeks flushing. I had drawn him in four times—but thats not a lot, is it?

"It is when everyone else is only drawn once," Saoghal counters. I roll my eyes, cooling my cheeks with my cold hands.

I don't bother granting her a response, and simply take one last look at the sketchbook before snapping it shut. Saoghal goes silent as well, and I get up and peer out into the corridor. It's already nightfall, and the candles lining the walls are lit. The hall is filled with flickering light, and I walk out, not bothering with my boots.

My feets are only covered in socks as I walk out onto the balcony and lean against the wall of stone lining it. The cold night autumn air chills me straight down to my core, but I relish the feeling. It's almost cleansing.

I don't realize Liam has approached until he's leaning against the wall next to me. Thankfully, I manage not to jump when I notice his presence, but my stomach jolts. I rub my hand over the back of my neck as my face heats yet again, and I'm thankful for the dark night.

"I heard," Liam says quietly. "About all the excitement today. A white Daggertail, huh?"

I smile slightly. "Yeah. You?"

"Red," he says, smiling back. I start at that, thinking about the Red Swordtail from earlier—Lasair, Saoghal had called him. "Daggertail." I let out a silent breath of relief. "His name is Deigh."

"I bet he's beautiful," I murmur.

"He is," Liam agrees. "Although, I doubt hes anything compared to your dragon. People have been talking about it all day—that, and Violet with her two dragons." he lets out a small laugh and shakes his head. "You two certainly love to put on a show, don't you?"

"Yeah." My smile widens, before dropping off of my face. "Hey, Liam?"

"Yeah?"

"What would you do...if someone tried to kill you?" I ask. "Someone who you didn't really know or trust, but just never really thought them capable of actually trying to kill you?"

Liam gives me a glance before pondering my question for a moment, thankfully not asking any follow-up questions. He shrugs after a moment. "They didn't succeed, did they?"

"Clearly not," I reply.

He smiles. "Well, then I'd show them that you are not someone who's worth killing."

"You mean, make myself as small as possible and hope they don't notice me?" I scoff at that, but Liam just shakes his head.

"No, Wisteria," he murmurs, leaning in close enough that I can feel his breath on my ear. I try to suppress the shiver that threatens to run through my body—and not because of the cold. "You make yourself so big that they wouldn't dare even come close to you." And with that, he pushes off of the stone wall and walks back inside, leaving his breath on my face nothing more than a mere wisp of warmth in a freezing, barren landscape.

. . .

 There's some action in this chapter! Also, more Liam x Wisteria...what do you guys think about their relationship so far? I honestly think they are one of the best couples I've ever written—that's not enemies to lovers ;)

Anyways, that's all for today!! Thanks for reading.