The silence in the rookery was thick and heavy, broken only by the prince's soft groans. The four girls who had been clinging to him just moments before now stood frozen, their faces a mixture of horror, embarrassment, and dawning realization. Talia and Eira took a hasty step back from the unconscious prince, their cheeks burning. Lyra, however, knelt beside him, her expression a confusing blend of concern and possessive triumph.
Rina wrung her hands, her practical mind racing. "Oh, dear. We broke the prince. The Queen is going to have our heads for this."
From his perch, Nimbus watched the entire spectacle with the air of a seasoned theater critic. He let out a low, rumbling sigh that smelled of smoke and ancient wisdom.
"Well," he boomed, his voice echoing in the stone chamber. "This is an unexpected development."
All eyes turned to the massive dragon.
The great dragon uncoiled his long neck, his ancient eyes surveying the scene. "The castle is a long walk, and the prince is in no condition to lead. I can carry you all. It will be much faster."
Rina's face lit up with relief. "Yes, please! We need to get him back to the royal physician right away!"
Talia and Eira, still too embarrassed to speak, simply gave hesitant nods. Their desire to escape the awkward situation outweighed their surprise at a dragon offering them a ride.
Lyra looked up from Aiden, her eyes fixed on Nimbus. If this was the fastest way to stay by the prince's side, she would agree. She gave a firm, decisive nod.
Seraphine Noctalis stepped into the dim light, her hood still low. She looked at the unconscious prince, then at the dragon, and gave a single, silent nod of agreement.
Nimbus seemed pleased. "Excellent. A wise choice."
With a delicacy that belied his immense size, he lowered his head. The tip of his massive, scaly tail snaked out and gently coiled around Prince Aiden's waist. He lifted the limp form of the prince as if he weighed nothing and settled him comfortably on his broad, scaly back, right between his wings.
Then, Nimbus turned his great head to look at the five girls.
"Hold on, all five of you," he rumbled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It can get a bit windy up there."
With a powerful downbeat of his wings, Nimbus launched himself into the air. The ascent was steep and shockingly fast. The five girls clung to his scales, their reactions a chaotic symphony of fear and excitement.
"Woah, this is so fast!!" Rina squeaked, her knuckles white as she gripped a spike on Nimbus's back for dear life. Her cheerful demeanor was replaced by pure terror.
"Ahhh, a little slower, please!" Eira pleaded, her usually calm face pale. Her analytical mind was no match for the primal fear of falling from a great height. She closed her eyes, her silver braid whipping wildly in the wind.
In stark contrast, Talia and Seraphine were whooping with delight.
"Again! Add more speed!" Talia yelled, her red hair a fiery stream behind her. A life of riding dragons had made her crave this kind of thrill.
"Faster! This is exhilarating!" Seraphine added, a rare, genuine smile on her face. For a creature of the night, the feeling of the wind and the freedom of the sky was a joy she hadn't experienced in decades.
And then there was Lyra. She wasn't holding on for safety. She was kneeling beside the unconscious prince, her hand gently stroking his hair, completely unfazed by the turbulent flight.
"Ahh, Aiden… your sleeping face is so beautiful," she whispered, her voice full of adoration. The wind snatched her words away, but her intent was clear.
The flight was brief. In a matter of minutes, Nimbus began his descent, gliding smoothly towards the well-lit Grand Guesthouse. He landed with a soft thud in the gardens.
"Alright, my dears. We have arrived at your lodging," Nimbus announced with a surprisingly polite tone.
Rina and Eira practically scrambled off his back, their legs shaking so badly they nearly collapsed onto the grass. They looked at each other, their faces still pale. This flight was definitely going to leave a mark.
Talia and Seraphine dismounted with athletic grace, still buzzing from the adrenaline. Lyra was the last to get off, giving the sleeping Aiden one last, longing look before she too slid to the ground.
Without another word, Nimbus turned and launched himself back into the sky, this time carrying only the unconscious prince.
High above the clouds, the gentle rocking motion and the cool air began to stir Aiden back to consciousness. He groaned, his head pounding. The last thing he remembered was… a lot of screaming, hugging, and a caterpillar.
He blinked his eyes open. Instead of the stone ceiling of the rookery, he saw a vast, dark sky dotted with stars.
"Where… where am I?" he mumbled, trying to sit up. He was on something warm and scaly.
"We are heading home, my lord," Nimbus's calm voice rumbled beneath him.
Home? The word sent a jolt of panic through Aiden, more effective than any caterpillar. He sat bolt upright, his eyes wide with alarm.
"WHAT?! Turn around! Fly the other way!"
"I'm afraid that's not possible, my prince," Nimbus replied, his tone infuriatingly reasonable.
"If I go home, Mother will lecture me for 24 hours straight without stopping! She'll probably make me look at embroidery patterns while she does it! Nimbus, we have to escape!"
"My apologies, Prince Aiden. It seems we are already too late," the dragon said, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
Aiden squinted, and then he saw it. The lights of the royal castle were growing closer. And standing on the main balcony, a small figure could be seen, her hand raised in a wave. Even from this distance, Aiden could feel the malevolent glee radiating from her.
Down on the balcony, Queen Isolde Dravenheart watched the dragon approach, a slow, sinister smile spreading across her face. Her son was coming home. And he had brought the dragon with him.
Her plan was working perfectly.
Nimbus's landing in the main courtyard was as smooth as a whisper. He folded his massive wings and lowered his head, allowing Aiden to slide stiffly to the ground. The prince's legs felt like jelly, a combination of his recent fainting spell and the sheer dread of what was coming.
And there she was. Queen Isolde stood at the top of the grand staircase, her hands on her hips, a smile on her face that was anything but warm. It was the smile of a predator who had finally cornered her prey.
Aiden took a deep, steadying breath and forced a weak, defeated smile. "Ah… hello, Mother."
That was all it took.
The Queen's smile vanished, replaced by a tidal wave of words. "DON'T YOU 'HELLO, MOTHER' ME, AIDEN DRAVENHEART! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA THE WORRY YOU'VE CAUSED? I SPEND THE AFTERNOON DEALING WITH A HUNDRED HYSTERICAL GIRLS, AND MY SON—MY ONLY SON AND HEIR—IS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND! HIDING! I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU WERE HIDING! PROBABLY IN SOME DUSTY LIBRARY OR, WORSE, THE SMOKEY ROOKERY! I TOLD YOUR FATHER, 'HE'S PROBABLY WITH THAT DRAGON,' AND DID YOU LISTEN? NO! YOU NEVER LISTEN!"
She took a breath, but it was only to reload.
"I AM TRYING TO SECURE THIS DYNASTY! I AM TRYING TO FULFILL THE GRANDCHILDREN PROPHECY! AND YOU, YOU UNGRATEFUL BOY, THINK ONLY OF YOURSELF AND YOUR BOOKS! WHAT WILL BOOKS DO WHEN THE KINGDOM FALLS BECAUSE THERE IS NO HEIR?! WILL YOU READ A STORY TO THE INVADING ARMY?!"
King Darius, who had been standing quietly beside his wife, finally saw his opening. He stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "Now, Isolde, my love, he's back. He's safe. Let's not—"
"AND YOU!" she shrieked, rounding on him. "DON'T YOU 'NOW, ISOLDE' ME! YOU'RE JUST AS BAD! 'OH, HE'LL BE BACK WHEN HE'S HUNGRY,' YOU SAID! WELL, HE'S BACK, BUT IS HE HAPPY? IS HE MARRIED? DO WE HAVE A GRANDCHILD?! NO! WE HAVE NOTHING! EXCEPT A SON WHO SMELLS LIKE DRAGON DUNG!"
The King's shoulders slumped. He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. He looked at his son, gave a tiny, helpless shrug, and then sighed. "Well, when you put it like that, he does have a point…" he mumbled, getting swept up in her tirade.
Just as Queen Isolde drew another breath to launch into a fresh wave of scolding, a loud, clear sound echoed from the direction of the Grand Guesthouse.
FANFARE!
The trumpet blast was regal, commanding, and utterly beautiful. It was the signal that the first event of the selection was about to begin.
Queen Isolde froze mid-word. Her head snapped towards the sound, her entire demeanor shifting in an instant from furious mother to event organizer. Her eyes widened with a new purpose.
"Ah! The event! It's time!"
She pointed a dramatic, accusatory finger at Aiden. "You! Go to your chambers and change into something princely! You will preside over the first test! And you will not run away again, do you understand me?!"
Aiden didn't even have to answer. He just gave a slow, weary nod, his heart filled with a profound, soul-deep gratitude for the anonymous trumpeter who had just saved his life.