The Betrayed Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 2), Dan Michaelson [best books to read all time .txt] 📗

quite the same. It was almost as if this dragon, the one I had connected to first, had bonded to me in a way that was meant to pull upon me differently, more strongly than others. “Do you come here often?”

I hadn’t seen her before, and I came most days.

“Not often. Occasionally I come because I feel compelled to look upon the dragons.” She looked at me and grinned. “I don’t suppose you could understand that. I’ve always felt drawn to them.”

“Really?”

She shook her head. “Not like someone who has the potential to use the dragon power. This is different, though I feel as if it is no less potent. It’s more about a desire to see them. I feel as if we know so little about the dragons.”

There had been a time when I had felt similar to her, a time when I was still living out on the plains, still farming, and perhaps even still dreaming of what it might be like for me to gain an understanding of the dragons.

“I’m Ashan Feranth, by the way.”

She watched me for a moment. It seemed as if a debate waged behind her eyes, as if she didn’t know whether she wanted to tell me who she was. “Natalie,” she said softly.

“I could bring you closer to the dragon if you like.”

She shook her head. “I’m not so sure I should.” She squeezed the bars of the cage for a moment before turning. “I should be going. It was nice to meet you, Ashan.”

She started to move away, and I debated going after her, racing to ask her more questions, to offer to walk with her, to do anything to spend even another moment with her, but I caught sight of Brandel and one of the other students walking toward her.

Rather than dealing with a confrontation, I turned away. I tapped on the bar of the dragon pen, leaning toward the dragon, and whispered, “I really wish I understood how to use your power.”

I made my way along the enormous caged enclosure, dragging my hand over the bars and looking through them as I went, studying the dragons. There was the smaller green scaled one, but there were others here too. Many of them were quite a bit larger, though not nearly as large as the massive black dragon that I had chased through the forest.

I paused for a moment, staring at a dragon with a mixture of red and gold scales curled up on the ground in front of the cage. He looked up, as if knowing I was there, and breathed out heavily.

I tried to open myself to the dragon, but my awareness of the power and my ability to utilize it were separate.

I reached the end of the dragon pen and started to turn back toward the Academy when a figure sitting on a small bench near the end of the pen caught my attention. He was older with gray hair and a thin beard, and slender. He was dressed in the jacket and pants that marked him as an instructor at the Academy, though I had never seen him there before. Strangely, I could feel energy radiating from him, as if he were connecting to the dragons in a way that permitted me to feel just what he was doing.

I found myself drawn to him, watching.

Voices behind me caught my attention, from Brandel and whomever he had with him—I hadn’t stared long enough to know—and I shuffled forward, wanting to be away from them. Hopefully by creeping toward this instructor, I wouldn’t draw nearly as much attention. Brandel could be a pain in the ass, but he didn’t like to antagonize the instructors. It was how he ensured he kept his position within the Academy, such as it was.

I inched closer to the man. As I did, I could still feel the power coming from him. It stretched between him and one of the dragons inside of the dragon pen, though not the nearest, a pale blue dragon that looked as if he rested. This came from a small brown dragon that seemed to sit up on his legs, staring out through the bars, watching.

I could feel the energy coming off of the dragons too. I could feel the heat and the power, and I could feel his connection to them. All of it left me marveling at just how powerful he must be.

He glanced over to me, and I blinked, tempted to pull away, but decided to stay there. If he were an instructor at the Academy, then he would most likely welcome a student.

“Can I help you?” the man snapped.

So much for welcoming.

“I was just noticing your connection to the dragon. Why the brown one?” I asked.

The man sat up slightly and looked at me, frowning for a moment. “The strength of the dragon is not determined by the size of the dragon. Considering your age, you should know that.”

I shrugged. “I think I’ve heard that in some of my classes.” The instructions were not always clear. I always felt as if I were trying to catch up, always a step behind some of the others, and though it didn’t necessarily matter to me, I didn’t remember hearing that the size of the dragon didn’t determine the strength.

“What’s your name?” the man demanded.

I forced a smile. “Ashan Feranth.”

“I’m not familiar with that name. Where are you from?”

There it was. He would likely treat me the same way as everybody else I’d encountered, using my homeland as some sort of measure to determine that I didn’t deserve to be here working with the dragons, understanding their power—as if that mattered. Manuel seemed to think that it didn’t, along with the other instructors who had welcomed me. Maybe he was going to be more like Brandel and some of the other students.

“I’m from a place to the west. A city called Berestal.”

He watched me for a moment, and there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes.