The Dragon Queen's Heir [book one]

3

I WAKE TO THE SOUND OF CHEERING. Groaning, I roll over in bed and put a hand over my forehead. It takes me a moment to remember where I am and what I did the night before, and when I do, my heart rate spikes. Sitting up in bed, I glance out the window of my room and see the final floats of the annual Selecting parade pass by the inn. Every year, to celebrate the coming of new Riders, the citizens of our village make floats and parade up and down the streets. That must be what woke me up.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stretch, my mouth falling open in a yawn. If the parade is ending soon, that means I have limited time to eat and get to the village square to attend the Selecting. If I miss it, that means all the risks I took will be in vain, and I'll have to face my mother's anger for nothing.

Standing, I quickly change into a new pair of clothes and grab an apple from my stash of food, munching on it as I slide my feet into my boots and make sure my disguise is in place. When I'm satisfied, I step into the hallway of the inn and quickly descend the flight of stairs, leaving through the front door before the receptionist can say a word.

Before I can get my bearings, I'm swallowed by the large crowd following the parade and have to fight to keep my balance. At least I don't have to worry about getting lost. And I probably would have been lost without the parade leading me to the village square; this part of town is completely foreign to me, not helped by the cheering and screaming of the people around me.

A headache has built itself behind one of my eyes before I even reach the village square. I wince every time sunlight bounces off a float and into my eye or when someone next to me screams particularly loud. Right as I'm about to burst with frustration, I'm able to separate myself from the parade to go to a sign-up table for this year's participants. There's already a long line stretching from the table, and I have no choice but to join at the end, fingering the stone in my pocket.

I count down the seconds until someone notices me. It isn't long—thirty seconds at most. A boy with dark eyes and light hair comes up to me and scowls, his thick eyebrows down so low they almost hide his eyes. "Hey!" he says roughly, narrowing his eyes. I flinch and turn away, careful to keep my spot in line. "What do you think you're doing here?"

All my courage drains out of me, and I can feel my face burning, my breaths coming in hard and fast. "Same as you," I say softly. "I'm going to the Selecting."

The boy in front of me turns around, his eyes widening in surprise. The original boy forces my attention back to him, saying, "Don't you know what happened to the last girl that became a Rider?" When I don't respond, he takes a step closer. His breath stinks of ale and something moldy, and I take a step back instinctively. "She became a witch," he continues, as if I didn't already know. As if the last female Rider hadn't almost destroyed Nightshorne Dragon Academy and everyone in it. "Scram, little girl. The Riders don't need someone like you."

I want to listen to him, to run as far away as possible, but then I remember my mother and what she would do if I failed. So I straighten and look the boy straight in the eye. "No. I'm not leaving for anything." The boy's jaw tightens, but he turns away and joins the end of the line. I take a deep breath and glance towards the table. I'm the first one in line now, looking like an idiot. The man sitting at the table shouts something, and I rush forward. "Sorry, sir. I, uh, would like to sign up for the Selecting."

The man sighs and meets my eyes. He has big arms and a protruding jaw that reminds me of my father, and his fists tightens around his quill. "Ma'am, you realize a girl hasn't been chosen at the Selecting in six years?"

"Yes, sir, I'm aware." I tighten my fists together and take a deep breath. "I still want to sign up."

The man shrugs and shakes his head. "Okay, whatever. Name?"

I open my mouth and almost give him my birth name, but I stop myself at the last second, realizing I forgot the, arguably, most important part of my disguise. Racking my brain for a name, I let the first one that comes to mind spill out of my mouth. "Ciana," I say. "Ciana, uh, Ashdon." I smile, praying he doesn't find me suspicious and report me, but he simply grunts and writes down my fake name on his parchment. Then he nods, and I hurry off towards the seating area.

The afternoon air is much warmer than the previous night, and I find myself taking off my coat before I sit down. A makeshift stage sits at the forefront of the seating area, an empty chair resting on top, as well as a small round display table. No one seems to notice me, too lost in talking to each other to notice yet another girl waiting to try her luck at the Selecting, a fact I'm grateful for as I grip the stone in my pocket, my heart beating so fast I'm beginning to worry about passing out.

To distract myself, I think of the last girl to become a Rider. No one knows who she was before her Selecting or where she came from, but back then, no one questioned her when she became a Rider. I remember attending her Selecting—ironically, it was the only one I've ever been to—and sending her off to Nightshorne Dragon Academy with the rest of the village.

Back then, it wasn't unordinary for a girl to become a Rider, but something happened to her once she got to the school. She snapped and practically destroyed the Academy, and no one has seen her since—and no female has become a Rider since she escaped. Some people theorize she is the one who killed my father, but I have never been able to come up with a reason she would want to do it.

The man from the table rises, interrupting my thoughts, and I run my fingers over the inscriptions on my mother's stone as he comes to the stage and clears his throat. The crowd immediately quiets, and the man unrolls the scroll to begin the ceremony. "Welcome to the Selecting," he says, looking around the audience. He sounds almost bored. What could make someone this unenthused about perhaps the most important ceremony in Nightshorne? "This year, we have a very special man in attendance to officiate the ceremony. Will you please welcome the headmaster of Nightshorne Dragon Academy, Professor Singh."

My eyes widen as the headmaster walks onstage and takes the scroll from the man, who immediately leaves the stage and disappears into the audience. What reason does he, of all people, have for being here? I wonder has he smiles and claps along with the crowd. "Hello, people of Nightshorne!" he calls. He scans the rows of sixteen-year-olds waiting to try their luck, but when his eyes meet mine, they freeze. 

Uh-oh. What do you think is wrong? Let me know in the comments, and don't forget to vote if you enjoyed this chapter! :3

~ Amber