A gasp escapes my throat. I start to my feet when Uncle Ivan drags me back down into my seat. It’s clear by the look on his face that he wasn’t expecting this.

He rises and clears his throat. “I am honored by your selection, and I will do all I can to fill my brother’s unparalleled role in serving our village.”

Heat hits my face, prickling my cheeks like a thousand tiny needles. I sit there, trapped within a daze. I feel like I’m trapped in some sort of twisted dream I can’t escape from. But it isn’t a dream.

This is really happening.

I shoot to my feet, outraged. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be!” The elders turn their attention to me, but I give no one else the chance to speak. “I am my father’s only successor. He has trained me my entire life to assume his role as Dragon Master. I am the heir. The title is always to be handed down to the heir. I am my father’s only successor. How could you simply ignore my existence?”

“Stop it,” whispers Ivan as he silently tries to lasso me back into my seat.

But I can’t be silenced. I have lost so much today—I can’t bear to lose the only thing I have left. “Why are you breaking from tradition?” I demand. “Why would you disgrace my father’s wishes this way?”

The chancellor responds slowly, cautiously, “I understand how upset you must be—”

“Answer my question!” I snap. “Why are you doing this?”

The chancellor looks me over, his head tilted back, his eyes low and milky. “You are only a child,” he says.

“I’m twenty!” The sound leaves me dry and comical—almost like a laugh. “This is absolutely ridiculous. My father was four years younger than me when he ascended!”

“Your father was trained,” the chancellor says. “He was ready to step into the role.”

“And I am not?”

Uncle Ivan tugs at my sleeve, urging me to take my seat, but I cannot sit idly by and watch my title—my fate—be taken away from me.

“My father has trained me for this role since before I could walk!” The rage pulls at my lungs, and I find myself heaving in an angry breath as I look around the room. “If any of you are more qualified for the position of Dragon Master, please, do step forward.”

The elders do not move. They simply watch me, a growing pity in their eyes.

Then it really hits me.

I am the only woman.

Not just the only woman in the council room, but the only woman who has ever been trained as a Dragon Master. No woman before me has ever assumed the position before.

“I’m afraid the decision is not yours,” the chancellor says. “The council has selected Ivan.”

Anger slices through me, hot and violent like a blade. I will not sit through this nonsense. I will not.

I turn and stride out of the room, shoving through the large doors and past the mirrors. Footsteps scuttle after me, and the moment I am far beyond the council room, I turn sharply to face Uncle Ivan.

“Arla, I swear—I had no idea. This was not presented to me before the meeting. If I’d known, I…” He trails off, as if he’s waiting for a response from me. But I’m too shaken to speak.

It takes me a long moment to gather myself. To form some semblance of words. Quietly, I say, “But you didn’t stand up for me. You didn’t honor my father’s—your own brother’s—wishes.”

“Please, you must understand,” Uncle Ivan says. “Once the council decides a matter, there is no changing it. That’s that. I wish there was something I could do, but I cannot go against their wishes.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?” I cry out. My voice echoes back at me from the corridor walls. “And even if it were true, you should have stood with me, nonetheless. We are family! You know how this is meant to work. You know I’m meant to become Dragon Master!”

Ivan hesitates, a difficult expression on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.

“Is it because I’m a woman?”

Ivan furrows his brows—a desperate, pleading look. “Why would you say something like that? Haven’t I supported your endeavors? Haven’t I helped train you, along with my brother? Arla, I know what you are worth, and I know what you can do. But you must understand, my hands are tied.”

Tears are singeing at my eyes yet again. But I will not let him see me cry. I shove past Uncle Ivan, starting back toward the council door.

Ivan catches me by the wrist before I can go far. “Don’t do it, Arla,” he warns me. “There are consequences you will not be able to undo if you walk in there. Please. Just take a moment to rest. To grieve. And when you are ready to act, I will do everything I can to help you into your place.”

I look between Uncle Ivan and the door. Every bone in my body yearns to burst through it. To give the council a piece of my mind. But I know Ivan is right. That beyond that door lies a power I can’t contend with.

It frustrates me all the more.

I let out a snarl and rip my wrist from his grip. “I don’t need you or anyone telling me what my place is!” Again, my voice bounds back at me like thunder. I do not wait for a response from my uncle. I turn back, shoving past him and out into the night.

The market square is mostly vacant at such a late hour. The stalls have all closed, and only a few villagers roam the streets, sweeping and readying their stalls for tomorrow. I pass by them in a careless run.

I don’t think of where I’m going—I just move. At least until I realize I’m headed in the direction of the stables. Then I come to a sudden stop.

I doubt I’ll find any comfort there. It’s a ghost of what once was. A promise of something that’s been stripped away from me. And though the dragons are clueless to what’s happening, in a way, it feels as though I’ll lose their respect. Like they’ll realize upon seeing me that I’m not who I thought I was. Who I was supposed to be.

My mind is reeling. Spinning, whirling, dizzy. I don’t know where to go or what to do with myself, but to walk aimlessly.

So I walk aimlessly.

And eventually, I find myself at Darian’s doorstep. If there is one soul in this place who understands what I’ve lost, it will be Darian. I knock on his door, and after a moment of quiet, it opens. He stands there, sleep-mussed and confused by the sight of me. And even in my grief, I’m not lost to his artistry.

His handsome jaw is set tight, his dark eyes warmly tracing the sorrowful look on my face. When he sees my shambled appearance, he pulls me into a hug, his arms bound tightly around me.

He does not embrace me before long before he draws back to get a look at my face. And when I don’t look up to meet his gaze, Darian tilts me by the chin to match it himself. “I suppose…” he says awkwardly, “I should call you Dragon Master now?”

I shake my head, the pain biting down deep into my heart. “They took it from me,” I say, aware how my entire body is trembling. “I will never be Dragon Master.”

And for some reason, hearing that—hearing myself say the words aloud—suddenly makes it all so real. Everything I have been holding in begins to burst at the seams. Darian sees it happening and draws me into his arms just before I break. The moment I hit his chest, I sink into it with a sob.

Darian waits patiently until my weeping softens, then he asks, “What do you mean? What happened?”

I draw away from his chest enough to drink in a breath of air and to speak, tears still streaming down my face. “The council gave the title to my uncle instead.”

For a moment, Darian looks outraged. Then the expression fades into something even more sullen. “I’m sorry, Arla. I know how much this meant to you.” He cranes his head to look me in the eye. “I promise, I’ll help you in any way I can. Maybe if you talk to Ivan?”

“I tried,” I explain, “but he said the council is set in their decisions, and there’s no changing it.”

“So what will you do?” Darian asks. “Where will you go?”

I shake my head with a silent, aching abandon. “I don’t know.”

“It’s late,” Darian says. “Why don’t you just stay here tonight?”

How ironic, I think. Just a day ago, I would have leapt at the opportunity. I would have fumbled over myself at the chance of kissing the very lips that have taunted me for the last several years.

But now…it doesn’t feel right. Not like this.

“No. Thank you, but I need to go home. I need to finally…let this be real.”

“I’ll walk you,” Darian offers.

I shake my head firmly. “No, I want to be alone. Need to, I think. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gives me a sad, small smile and promises once again, “I am here if you need anything, Arla.”

But I won’t take him up on his offer; I can’t stand the pity any longer. I say my goodbyes and head off toward home to face the ghosts I have long been avoiding.

It’s early into the morning, but thankfully, the moon is bright and swollen in the sky tonight. Bright enough to light my path as I cut through the old mill and make my way to the home my father built with his own two hands.

Every step of the way, I dread the feeling that will hit me the moment I’m inside.

I’m only halfway there when I catch a sound that strikes chills up my spine. The steady beating of wings against wind. It’s distant at first, but as the sound grows, I find myself halting in the tall grass.

Suddenly, the beating becomes all too clear.

Through the shadows, a dragon emerges, sharp teeth glinting in the darkness.