the top of his head. He hunched forward slightly with a curved spine, and he had his customary cane in his hand. People speculated that he was arched so because he refused to use his magic. That not using it withered the person from the inside. Kerrigan had no idea if that was true. People would say anything to condemn someone without magic.
By the time Mistress Moran took the stage, Helly still wasn’t in attendance. Kerrigan frowned. She wondered where Helly was. Should she have broken protocol to tell her about the protest being the one from her vision? Unease settled deeper into her bones.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for attending the annual Dragon Blessed ceremony,” Mistress Moran said. “As you know, we at the House of Dragons take great pride in the young souls that we are able to assist within Draco Mountain. The twenty-three bright minds you see before you have lived and worked inside the mountain alongside Society members and dragons. Their training has been extensive, and we’re pleased with the educational advancement of each and every one of our pupils.”
The crowd applauded the introduction. Kerrigan’s heart lessened at the words. They were likely scripted, but from Moran, they were heartfelt. She’d meant everything she said. Even though Kerrigan had been a thorn in her side, she still was proud of her on this day.
“Thousands of years before we stood on Alandrian soil, dragons ruled the island. Our history was fraught. The battles plentiful. Too many Fae and dragons alike died from those ancient battles. But it was one Fae maiden, Irena, who turned the tide of history. She negotiated a compromise, a truce, with the great dragon Ferrinix. And out of that came the first ever dragon bond. Fae and dragon linked until death. Anyone who would take a bond or bow to the supremacy of the dragon-bound society could live in peace. The Irena Bargain still lives today,” Mistress Moran said, quoting their history in hushed, worshipful tones. “And because of Irena’s great bravery, the Society rules all of Alandria. From the western forests of Woodloch to the eastern shores of Viland. To the high northern mountains of Tosin, all the way to the plains of Moran.” Mistress Moran respectfully bowed her head at the mention of her namesake.
“The tribes moved throughout the land, bound to the Dragon Society and its new government. Eventually settled to the twelve that we know and love today. In Woodloch, the warrior tribes, Venatrix, Herasi, and Galanthea. In Viland, the healing tribes, Bryonica, Concha, and Ibarra. In Tosin, the efficiency tribes, Zavala, Sayair, and Erewa. And in Moran, the tribes that resist magic’s call, Elsiande, Aude, and Genoa.”
Each time she called a tribe, the room applauded for their own.
“And because of the tribe system and the supremacy of the Society, we are able to help those who need it most with this bridge between the two—the House of Dragons.”
She swept her arm out to gesture to her students. “They are the bridge. They are the future. Let us celebrate them crossing that divide now.”
The applause was deafening. Moran’s call for their support and their nationalism brought the house down.
Kerrigan beamed with the rest of the crowd. Her feelings of unease dissipated as the ceremony officially commenced. This was what she had been raised for. This was the moment she had been waiting for. Today, she would fulfill her duty to the Society. She would be her own Irena Bargain.
Once the applause died down, Moran continued, “We’ll begin with this end.” She pointed to where Darby stood at the other end of the room. They’d been immediately separated and put into lines. “Darby.”
Darby jolted as if she’d just been struck by lightning. Fear blossomed on her face as she took stuttering steps forward to where Moran stood. Kerrigan didn’t know why she looked so afraid. She knew who was going to be claiming her and for what tribe.
“Darby is training to be a healer,” Moran told the crowd. “She’s dutiful, proficient, and kind. She loves etiquette classes and dancing. Who here has chosen Darby?”
Slowly, a figure materialized out of the crowd. Sonali was dressed in the dark blues of Bryonica. Her gown was regal and beyond reproach. She looked like a princess out of legend.
“I have chosen Darby.” She smiled softly and tipped her chin at Darby. “If you will have me?”
“Yes,” Darby squeaked.
A small titter of laughter came from the crowd. Darby gulped and looked even more