Pryce had never seen so much food in one place. The breakfast spread before him in the Dragonkin palace's dining hall would have fed half of Crystal Shores. Golden pastries stuffed with exotic fruits. Smoked fish arranged in elaborate patterns. Steaming porridge dotted with berries and drizzled with honey.

He lifted a spoonful of the porridge to his mouth. It was perfect—and somehow that made it worse. His mother's porridge always had little lumps, places where the oats hadn't quite softened. He used to complain about those lumps. Now he found himself missing them with an intensity that surprised him.

"Is the food not to your liking?" Aurix asked from across the table.

"No, it's amazing," Pryce said, forcing himself to take another bite. "Just different from home."

A hush fell over the dining hall. Pryce looked up to see Princess Seren gliding between the tables, her white dress immaculate as always. Other young trainees scrambled to bow their heads, but she passed them without a glance, stopping beside Pryce.

"Ready for your first real day of training?" She smiled, resting a hand on the back of his chair. "Master Kestrel has great expectations for you."

Before Pryce could respond, a shadow fell across the table. A young man stood there, perhaps a few years older than Pryce, with features that seemed carved from stone. Dark scales traced patterns across his temples, and his eyes held a coldness that made Pryce's throat go dry.

"So," the newcomer said with disdain, "this is the prodigy everyone's talking about?"

"Thane Zharan," Seren said. "I didn't expect you back from patrol so soon."

Zharan? Pryce remembered his father telling stories of the brutal Dragonkin captain who nearly killed him during the war, and who'd sworn revenge on the Shorlings who'd defeated him. Captain Zharan, known for his ruthless combat and tactical mind, made him one of the most feared Dragonkin commanders. Thane had to be related to him.

Thane ignored Seren entirely. "Tell me, boy." His voice carrying the same cultured accent that seemed common among the Dragonkin nobility. "How does a simple Shorling come to ride a storm dragon?" The way he said 'Shorling' made it sound like something he'd scraped off his boot.

Pryce's hand instinctively went to the dragon pendant beneath his shirt. "Just got lucky, I guess."

"Luck? Is that what they're calling it now?" He leaned forward, placing both hands on the table. Up close, Pryce could see that his scales weren't just dark—they were scarlet, like war paint slashed across his skin. "I find it interesting that a fisherman's son suddenly appears with such . . . natural talents."

"Leave him be, Thane," Seren said. "He's here at my invitation."

Master Kestrel approached before Thane could respond. "If you're quite finished with breakfast, we have work to do."

Pryce scrambled to his feet, grateful for the interruption. As he followed Kestrel from the dining hall, he felt Thane staring at him.

"I trust you've checked on your dragon this morning?" Kestrel asked as they walked through the soaring corridors.

"I was about to—"

"No need. She's been fed and exercised. Your . . . pets as well." Kestrel's dismissive tone made it clear that the Dragonkin viewed pets the way most people viewed vermin. "We have more important matters to attend to."

They emerged onto a vast training ground carved into the very face of the cliff. Other dragons and their riders were already there, practicing aerial maneuvers that made Pryce dizzy just watching them.

"First, we assess your current capabilities." Kestrel gestured to where Stormwing was being led out by an attendant. "Show me your mounting technique."

Pryce approached his dragon, who greeted him with a gentle headbutt that nearly knocked him over. He heard Thane snort from somewhere behind him.

"Hey, girl." Pryce scratched her under her chin. "Ready to show them what we can do?"

What happened next seemed to surprise everyone except Pryce and Stormwing. Instead of using the formal mounting procedure—a complex series of steps involving specific hand and foot positions—Pryce simply stepped back, locked eyes with Stormwing, and nodded. The dragon immediately lowered her shoulder, allowing him to swing up smoothly onto her back.

"Interesting," Kestrel said. "Unorthodox, but effective. Your bond is . . . unusually strong."

"Strong enough to overcome proper training?" Thane called out. "Or perhaps to bypass it entirely?"

Kestrel held up a hand for silence. "Today, we focus on combat basics. A dragon rider must be able to defend himself and his mount." He drew a practice sword from a nearby rack. "You'll need this."

Pryce caught the thrown weapon awkwardly. The sword felt wrong in his hands—he was more comfortable with his bow. Above, dark clouds were gathering over the lake, rolling in from the direction of Crystal Shores.

"Focus," Kestrel commanded. "Your enemies won't wait for fair weather or better preparation. Now, show me your guard position."

Pryce raised the practice sword, trying to mimic Kestrel's stance. The weapon felt heavy, unwieldy.

"Wrong," Kestrel said, tapping Pryce's elbow with his own practice sword. "Your guard is too low. You're leaving yourself exposed."

Sweat trickled down Pryce's back as he adjusted his stance. Stormwing watched from nearby, occasionally letting out concerned chirps when Pryce took a particularly hard hit.

"Better," Kestrel circled him. "Now, the key to mounted combat is maintaining your balance."

They'd been at it for hours when Thane stepped forward. "Perhaps a demonstration would be more effective?"

"Very well. Thane, you may spar with the boy."

Pryce watched Thane select a practice sword, noting the casual familiarity he handled the weapon. This was no training exercise—this was an excuse to put him in his place.

"Remember," Thane's smiled, "this is just practice. No need to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid," Pryce said, but his voice cracked on the last word. Behind him, Stormwing growled softly.

They circled each other on the training ground. Thane moved like a predator. Pryce tried to remember everything Kestrel had taught him about guard positions and footwork, but his mind went blank when Thane eyes locked onto him.

The first strike came without warning. Pryce barely got his sword up in time to block, the impact jarring his arms. Thane pressed forward, each blow driving Pryce back toward the cliff's edge.

"Come now," Thane taunted, easily deflecting Pryce's clumsy counterattack. "Surely the great dragon prodigy can do better than this?"

Thunder rolled across the lake. Pryce risked a glance toward Crystal Shores, where the storm now raged. The momentary distraction cost him—Thane's practice sword caught him across the ribs, sending him stumbling.

"Focus!" Kestrel shouted. "Your opponent won't wait for you to gather your thoughts!"

Pryce regained his footing, panting. Something in Thane's expression—a flash of cruel satisfaction—reminded him so strongly of the stories about Captain Zharan that his next words slipped out before he could stop them.

"You fight like your father."

Thane froze mid-strike. "What did you say?"

Pryce immediately realized his mistake. "I . . . I just meant—"

"How do you know my father?" Thane's voice was deadly quiet. The practice sword in his hand trembled with barely contained rage.

"That's enough for today," Kestrel stepped between them. "Thane, you're dismissed. Pryce, we need to discuss your departure for Dragon's Fang Island tomorrow."

Pryce watched Thane stalk away with suppressed fury as the storm over Crystal Shores intensified.

"Dragon's Fang Island," Kestrel continued, "is where we conduct our advanced training. You'll learn things there that can't be taught here. Proper combat techniques, advanced dragon-handling, aerial warfare—"

"Actually," Pryce interrupted, "I can't go."

"Can't?" Kestrel's eyebrows rose. "This isn't a request, boy. Your training—"

"I need to return home. My family—"

"Your family will be fine," Kestrel's tone hardened. "This is about your future, about becoming something greater than a simple fisherman's son."

Thunder cracked overhead, closer now. Pryce thought of his mother's cooking, his father's quiet strength, Faye's laughter. He thought of Old Man Finnegan's warnings about the Dragonkin.

"It's not just that. I need time to think."

Kestrel studied him for a long moment. "Very well. You have until morning to 'think.' But remember—opportunities like this don't come twice."

As Kestrel walked away, Pryce stood alone on the training ground. Stormwing pressed her snout against his back, offering silent comfort.

"What have I gotten us into, girl?"

Evening found Pryce in the stables with Stormwing. Ash dozed nearby on a hay bale while Skye perched in the rafters above. The storm continued to rage over Crystal Shores, visible through the stable's wide openings.

"At least they've been taking good care of you all," Pryce said, running his hand along Stormwing's scales. His ribs still ached where Thane's practice sword had struck.

"They're well looked after," Aurix said, appearing in the doorway. "Princess Seren's orders."

Pryce watched as Aurix distributed the fish among the dragons. "Why would Seren care about my pets?"

"The same reason she brought you here," Aurix said, tossing the last fish to a shadow drake. "She sees something in you. But Pryce . . ." he lowered his voice, "Dragon's Fang Island isn't what you think."

"What do you mean?"

"The training there is . . . intense. Especially with Thane involved." Aurix glanced around before continuing. "And after what happened today—"

"I shouldn't have mentioned his father."

"No, you shouldn't have." Aurix set the empty bucket down. "Thane's been trying to restore his family's honor ever since Captain Zharan's defeat. He won't forget what you said."

Thunder boomed overhead.

"I just wanted to learn about dragons," Pryce said. "I never meant to get caught up in . . . whatever this is."

Stormwing nuzzled his shoulder as if sensing his distress. Ash stretched and padded over, rubbing against his legs. Even Skye fluttered down to land on the hay beside him.

"Sometimes the simplest dreams have the most complicated consequences," Aurix said. He started to say more but stopped at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Princess Seren appeared in the doorway. "I hope you're not letting today's . . . difficulties cloud your judgment about Dragon's Fang Island."

"I need to think about it," Pryce said.

"Of course. But remember, Pryce—you have a gift. It would be a shame to waste it."

As she glided away, Pryce turned back to the storm-darkened sky. Somewhere out there, his family was probably watching these same clouds, wondering where he was, if he was safe.

"What would you do?" he asked Aurix.

"I'd listen to my instincts. Dragons do. Maybe that's why they survive."

Pryce nodded, scratching behind Stormwing's ear ridge as another crash of thunder shook the stables. By morning, he would have to decide—continue down this path with the Dragonkin, or return to the simpler life he'd left behind.

But as he watched a shadow drake circling the palace towers like a dark sentinel, Pryce couldn't shake the feeling that his choice had already been made for him.