by Liz Flanagan
Karys sat on the dry sand at the top of the beach, wiggling her feet deeper into the warm golden grains. She squinted out to sea, where they’d left their boat tethered, dancing on the sparkling blue. How she loved this bay. It would be hard to say goodbye. Not yet, she told herself. Let the dragons heal. Let us heal. Just a little longer.
Aelia and Cato were basking, near the caves. They’d hunt at dusk, when no one could see.
She closed her eyes against the hot sunshine, letting one hand fall slack, while the other rubbed her belly idly. She lifted her shirt, letting the sun fall on the round dome of it. From deep inside, she felt an answering blow against her palm. From inside and outside, both at once: she knew this baby already.
‘Ha! Feel this, Gallus. It’s a strong one, this child. There – put your hand there. Feel it?’
And he did: she saw the incredulous grin spread across his face.
‘I felt her! I did. Karys, that’s amazing. Our daughter is strong.’
‘How do you know? It might be a son!’ she teased him, but she felt he was right. It was a daughter. Dragon daughter. She would call her Kara. She closed her eyes and prayed for the day Kara could return to Arcosi on a dragon of her own.
Milla wished Kara could see this. She was glad she hadn’t had such a crowd for her bonding. Or maybe, in the moment, it wouldn’t have made any difference. She studied the faces of the Potentials: some were calm, some looked terrified, one or two were grinning with pride and waving to family in the crowd.
Cr-r-aa-ck! The first egg broke in two.
A little nose appeared, pushing away the top of the egg. Then the shell fell clean apart, leaving a small damp wriggling creature.
‘Ohhh!’
Hundreds gasped as one.
The children lurched forwards, in spite of their training.
Petra growled, ready to step in, and they drew back. As soon as the ceremony was over, she’d collect the hatchlings under her and keep them warm and safe. The dragonbonded would live near them in the new quarters.
Isak gestured to the children. ‘Come forwards, Potentials. Slowly, calmly. Remember our practice or you will be excluded.’
Milla watched as the young people filed carefully forwards, eyes fixed on the new hatchling. They sat in a perfect circle around the hatching cushions, no one nearer than anyone else, in total equality with each other.
Who would it be? She wondered, looking from one eager face to another, hoping it would be Rosa or Thom.
‘You may call quietly. Or sing. Or whistle. As your heart instructs,’ Isak reminded them. Serious but kind, he was the perfect person to be the first official Dragonguard of Arcosi, training up several apprentices. He and Belara flew together now, but Isak made it clear he never wanted to fight.
The baby dragon stretched and yawned, drawing a long breath. Like Caithas, Luca’s apricot-and-lime dragon, this one had two colours. It had a red back and a yellow underside.
Isak leant in and tossed it a piece of shredded chicken.
The hatchling growled and bit the scrap of meat, shaking it to and fro like a terrier with a rat.
One little girl laughed louder than the others. She looked about eleven years old, with glossy chestnut plaits down her back, a wide dimpling smile and eyes that glittered with mischief.
Let it be her! Milla thought. She reminded Milla of herself, when she had nothing and wanted everything.
The girl pulled a little pipe from the pocket of her dress and played a three-note trill. She stopped, listening.
The dragon raised its little head high and fluted the notes back to her.
And Milla saw their fledgling bond: a ribbon of crimson and yellow fire that danced out from each of them. It met in the air and redoubled, stronger now, passing from one to the other.
No one else seemed to see the dragonbond as Milla did: careful questioning had proved that. She didn’t know what that meant, so she kept it quiet for now.
The girl put her hand out, calling, ‘Charo?’
The dragon trotted clumsily over to her and climbed onto the girl’s lap. She bent her head, whispering to him, tears in her eyes.
The rest of the young people sank back on their heels, disappointed.
‘Don’t give up!’ Isak told them. ‘There are five more today. Be patient and listen to your heart. Soon, there will be another clutch of eggs. Soon the Dragon School will be full again.’
Milla thought of Kara and whispered, ‘You did it. The dragons are back for good.’
Iggie rumbled his approval.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book took almost five years to write and many, many drafts, so there are lots of people to thank.
Thank you to my brilliant editor Rosie Fickling, who has worked very hard with me on this. If you hadn’t loved this book so much and believed in it so deeply, we wouldn’t have reached the finish line.
And everyone at David Fickling Books (in alphabetical order this time): Bronwen Bennie, Cecilia Busby, Jasmine Denholm, Phil Earle, Caro Fickling, David Fickling, Alison Gadsby, Anthony Hinton, Sabina Maharjan, Simon Mason, Carolyn McGlone, Bella Pearson. I count myself so lucky to work with you all.
Thank you to Angelo Rinaldi and Paul Duffield for the stunning artwork that graces the cover and interior of this book. I’m dazzled by your talents.
Thank you to my agent Ben Illis, for years of support.
Huge thanks go to Tara Guha, for arranging the writing retreat where this story began, and for reading dozens of drafts along the way. And my other writing group friends: Sally Ashworth, Brianna Bourne, Sarah Smith – thank you for your insight and encouragement.
Thank you to Sophie Anderson and her daughter Nicky for reading and responding to this when it mattered most, and especially for the wonderful testimonial! Thank you Francesca Chessa for beta reading for me and advising on Italian names: Grazie mille! To my fellow BIA writers, Lu Hersey, Karen Minto and Kirsten Wild: thank you for reading and sending me your thoughtful feedback. And to Tiffany Murray, thank you for reading it way back when: it got there in the end!
Thank you to my colleagues at Newcastle University, especially Ann Coburn and Tara Bergin, with whom it is an honour to co-teach and talk about writing; Dr Lucy Pearson and Dr Aishwarya Subramanian for agreeing to read the ms for me. And to the wonderful and talented Chloe Daykin, thank you for the friendship, support and many sanity-saving emails and phone calls, you are such fine company on this writing journey.
Thank you to all my friends, especially to Angela, Helen, Jennie and Kirsty for years of encouragement and Friday lunchtime chats. Thank you to my beloved family: especially to Molly for painting the island of Arcosi so beautifully; and to Hanna for reading this over and over, for telling me exactly what you thought, and for building me a Minecraft version of the island. Thank you CK for everything, down to imagining the geology of this world – what would I do without you?
Also by Liz Flanagan:
EDEN SUMMER
Copyright
Dragon Daughter
First published in 2018
by David Fickling Books, 31 Beaumont Street, Oxford, OX1 2NP
This ebook edition first published in 2018
All rights reserved
Text © Liz Flanagan, 2018
Cover Illustration © Angelo Rinaldi, 2018
Inside Illustrations © Paul Duffield, 2018
The right of Liz Flanagan to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable i
n law accordingly.
ISBN 978–1–78845–022–5
