Golden Prophecy

X V

THE MAN on the field was the coach. He wasn't smiling at them, but Andorra couldn't tell if it was because he didn't want to, or if the scar that ran the length of the right side of his face prevented him from doing so.

It was a crude scar. Jagged, deep, clearly not healed properly. And, it wasn't the only scar. His arms were riddled with them, and she had the feeling they were on his torso as well. Something about him screamed I've died nine times and I've come back to life.

There was a crowd of students. Most were boys. Some were girls. All of them looked like athletes. And Andorra... she was not an athlete.

Her palms were sweaty. She tried to hide them behind her back, but she couldn't stop looking at the wyvern. There were a good bunch of them, all terrifying. But, it was the white one that caught her gaze again and again.

"For the newbies here, this is how you play. You fall off your wyvern, you're out. You knock someone off their wyvern, you get a point for your team. The last players still on their wyvern win."

Andorra's face drained. This wasn't a game. This was a brutal sport of strength. Andorra had been expecting something else... maybe a ball, a net, like basketball on a dragon. Maybe even something akin to quidditch. But this? Knocking people off of their dragons for sport? Her stomach soured. She would bet everything that Anders would go for her first.

"We have a heavy season ahead of us. If you're nervous about the wyvern, this ain't the sport for you. We are the reigning champions, and I heard our rivals just got about four newbies that transferred. Strong newbies." The coach eyed Andorra then, like he knew she was the weakest link.

Andorra tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

The coach swung his arm out towards the wyvern. "Seasoned players will pick their wyvern first. Then, the newbies will grab the leftovers. Got it?"

There was nodding, and Andorra was still trying to figure out how she was even going to get on the back of the dragons. There wasn't a saddle. This wasn't like riding a horse, which was also something she'd never done before. She was way out of her element.

"You're going down," Anders whispered in her ear from behind her. He was crowding her now, his chest pressed into her back, and to any onlooker, it may have looked romantic. His face was dipped down at her ear, his hair brushing her neck, and he placed his hands on her shoulders. A shiver worked its way down her back at the contact. She held her breath, waiting for him to move away. Hoping he would move away. "I know which one you want, and I'm taking him. That white one there is Sir Nohx's prized Wyvern. Rumor has it, Nohx has been personally raising that one since his arrival in Anlithamy. And I caught you staring at it."

Andorra tried and failed to piece together how Anders even figured that out. And why, if that was Noah's personal wyvern, was it here in the first place?

Andorra couldn't ask the questions she wanted to. Anders released her suddenly and was already strolling ahead, everyone else waiting for him. He was the Prince, after all, and it was apparent that everyone here respected that.

Anders put his hand on the wyvern's wing. Once he chose, all the other seasoned players picked their wyvern as well, and Andorra watched as the players one by one stepped onto the wyvern's wing, waiting for the wyvern to lift the players on their backs.

Andorra couldn't even begin to formulate a thought about any of this. It was unbelievable.

As soon as the seasoned players picked their dragon, it was time for Andorra to pick hers. She glanced back at Win and Callum, trying to communicate how much she didn't want to participate, but then she saw Noah.