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

known that I’d pulled on power throughout the day, reaching for magic, but I’d never known that I could unleash it in that way.

Brandel got to his feet, heat already beginning to build from him. I could tell anything he might do would be unpleasant.

“Look at who figured out how to connect to the dragons,” Brandel sneered, coming toward me. “You might regret that.”

“Listen,” I said. “All I want is to—”

Power slammed into me, coming from Brandel. It poured out of his hands, coming from the dragon. It struck me, throwing me back, driving me toward the dragon pen, pinning me against it.

I grunted, breath pressed out of my lungs.

It was enough that it distracted me from my hold over the dragon. I had to try to find a way to open myself to that power, but even as I tried, I couldn’t feel anything within me that allowed me to open myself the way I needed to.

Brandel stepped closer to me and jabbed at my chest.

“You would do well to know not to attack me. My father—"

“I don’t care about your father.” I stepped forward, pulling myself away from the dragon pen.

I tried to do all the things my instructors had taught, focusing on my breathing, feeling for the heat within me, relaxing and embracing the energy of the dragons in the distance, but it didn’t happen as quickly as I needed it to. I knew that if I were to connect to it in a way that would happen quickly, it would have to become second nature. It would have to become so quick that there would be no choice but to pull upon that power in a way that would release it from me and prevent Brandel from doing anything. As it was, I was slow. I knew I was slow, and as much as I might try to grab for that power quickly, I simply could not.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t willing to do anything.

Brandel was a bully. I had known boys like him my entire life. I hated boys like him.

I shoved him, slamming my fist into his chest, and he staggered back.

He grinned at me, and power exploded.

I felt it and reacted, trying to brace myself, holding on to the connection with the dragon. This time, I wasn’t able to push it out, but a different thought occurred to me in the moment before his power slammed into me.

Why couldn’t I embrace that power the same way I could embrace the power of the dragons? I focused on that energy, letting that power come to me, and it flooded into me.

I wasn’t thrown back by it. I simply absorbed the power he tossed at me.

His eyes widened slightly.

I stormed toward him. I was aware of the power around me—some energy coming off of the dragons, particularly the green dragon. That power flowed into me, as if the dragon wanted me to know that he was there and willing to help.

The energy of it filled me, and I took a step back.

I wasn’t going to attack Brandel with dragon magic.

He glared at me. “You might think you’ve figured something out,” Brandel said, “but you’re still nothing but a boy from the Wilds. The king knows people like you are a joke. You’ll never be a real dragon mage.”

“Leave me alone,” I said.

Brandel looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he turned away, and motioned for Becca and Cara to go with him.

When they left me, I breathed out, focusing on controlling the aspects of my connection to the power. I could still feel the energy of the green dragon, and I had to resist the urge to call that power through me, to unleash it. I had no interest in unloading that power in an uncontrolled fashion. I needed to make sure I was as careful with it as my instructors had always told me to be. The problem was that I didn’t know if I had enough control over it for me to do that.

I’d lost control and lashed out at Brandel, though I may not have meant to.

And he might be right.

I knew Brandel’s father was some noble with ties to the king. That couldn’t be good for my standing in the Academy—or the city.

Still, despite whatever good intentions I might’ve had, I had reached for dragon power when I’d needed it.

I gripped the bars of the dragon pen. It was strange feeling that I had succeeded and failed at the same time.

8

I made a point of getting to the dragon pens earlier in the morning than I had the day before. It was still dark out when I arrived, and the morning was quiet and calm. It was early enough that I saw no one else. Most mornings, at least early mornings, when I had gotten up to take a walk around the Academy grounds, I would encounter others who were out at the same time. I wasn’t the only early riser attending the Academy. Though I wished that I could sleep in, sometimes it was easier to be up and moving before most of the others.

The early morning light glittered off of the silvery metal of the dragon pen, and I could almost see the shapes that were worked into the metal itself, as if they were symbols or letters, though I couldn't quite make them out. Somebody with incredible skill must have formed these bars, somebody more powerful than what I could even imagine.

When I reached the dragon pen, I wandered along the length of it, trailing my hand across the bars. Heat wafted toward me from the dragons, emanating from inside of the pen. Some of it came from stored energy within the iron bars of the pen, but most of it came from the dragons themselves.

I paused in the middle of the dragon pen, looking through the bars at the dragons. Most of them were resting, though that wasn’t altogether surprising. Dragons had different