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Bronze Prideth chose me. I am worthy as any man to fly in a fighting wing! Words she would never say aloud, these thoughts nevertheless rang furiously through Kylara’s head as she slipped into her weyr. Though she loved Prideth and would not have traded him for anything less than a gold dragon, dealing with the other weyrlings was sometimes a trying experience. The more time she spent among the dragonmen, the more she realized they were at least as frustrating as they were appealing.
She had tried to be fair, to remind herself that there was no precedent in all of Pernese history for the role in which she now found herself, a female bronze rider. But as Prideth grew and matured, she found her patience swiftly wore thin. As soon as the day’s work was done and their training was done, and once Prideth was oiled and scratched and sated, Kylara sought out her quarters until the Weyr grew quiet as activity settled for the evening. And then she went in search of the one person who could occasionally be counted on to lend an understanding ear.
Lessa was in her weyr, as if she had been waiting for Kylara for some time. Customarily, Kylara simply assumed this was the case. Lessa’s days were as full as Kylara’s, differing only because her dragon was gold.
As always, Kylara felt a brief flash of resentment as she glimpsed Ramoth reclining within Lessa’s weyr. Her dragon ought to have been gold—
Thoughts of confusion drifted her way from Prideth. It was as if the dragon could sense her discontent even in slumber. She sent soothing thoughts back. After all, a bronze dragon afforded its own sort of power. Bronzes flew queens. And their riders...
Not for the first time, she considered the possibility of a woman bronze rider rising to become Weyrleader rather than merely Weyrwoman. And as always, this was enough to soothe her frustrations and fears for now.
Lessa’s expression was wry. “Weyrlings being insufferable again?”
Kylara knew that look by now. It was the same one Lessa always wore when discussing the other young dragonriders, for R’gul and F’lar kept Lessa away from everyone else. Her training was conducted almost in secret, and nobody but Lessa and Kylara seemed to mind.
“Let’s not talk about them,” Kylara said. She wanted to know how Lessa’s day had gone, and what Lessa had learned. More to the point, she wanted to know anything that might provide her with an advantage as she navigated life in the Weyr. Anything that would help her prepare for what was to come. For even as Prideth grew and matured, so did Lessa's Ramoth.
Kylara did not find Lessa herself particularly attractive, at least not more so than she found anyone else in the Weyr. It was not Lessa's tiny, waif-like figure, but her mind that brought Kylara so regularly to this weyr. The mind so like her own, taken from her Hold and asked to give up her birthright in return for the promise of Impressing a dragon. The mind that had made First Impression with golden Ramoth. But ultimately, the soon-to-be Weyrwoman was a means to an end. She could be nothing else.
Denied the unique power of a queen dragon, Kylara meant to acquire whatever power she could in whatever manner she could. Impressing a bronze dragon bestowed some amount of prestige all on its own. But only the role of Weyrleader brought with it real power. And for that, Kylara needed Lessa, and she needed Ramoth.
Both must be receptive when the mating flight came, or all Kylara’s hopes would be in vain. If Lessa preferred another rider, or Ramoth another bronze… But that hardly merited thinking about. Kylara preferred to make her own success, rather than waiting for success to find her.
Thus, this visit, and endless others like it. For now, and for the foreseeable future.
At least Lessa was not so tedious as many of the other women Kylara had dealt with in the past. Rightful heir to Ruatha Hold, no matter what she had been pressured to agree to, Lessa had hinted at ambitions beyond merely the acquisition of a gold dragon. Kylara was still wary of revealing her own ambitions—not until Prideth was proven and her own place in the Weyr was more secure—but it was reassuring to think Lessa might share some of those ambitions.
So she listened to a thorough recounting of Lessa’s day. And of Lessa’s frustrations and questions. It was nothing exciting, and certainly nothing that might give her or Prideth an edge during a mating flight, but Kylara took a certain amount of pleasure from the knowledge that R’gul and F’lar would not want Lessa telling her any of this. If the personal stakes were not so high, Kylara would have found their attempts at manipulating Lessa to be amusing. That she was attempting much the same thing did not occur to her.
“Now,” Lessa said, having finished her own tale at last, “tell me what’s going on out there.”
She was hungry for news of the outside world, as always. Kylara fed her careful bits and pieces: how training progressed for the rest of the dragonets, which weyrlings seemed most promising so far. She had learned to leave out her opinions of Manora and the others who seemed to serve no purpose in the Weyr but to annoy her, as Lessa did not appreciate such views. She did not mention—yet—that there was so much more to the outside world than just Benden Weyr. The reminder would probably just send Lessa into a sulk over lost Ruatha.
Instead, the report had Lessa looking thoughtful. Even the hue of Ramoth’s eyes shifted in response.
Kylara missed that this was a warning sign.
“And what do they say of Kylara, and of bronze Prideth?” she asked, voice quiet but cutting, when Kylara paused for breath.
She felt suddenly heated, a potent and unfamiliar mix of shame and anger and determination flashing through her. “They say many things,” she said, failing to keep the anger from her voice, daring Lessa to keep pushing.
“I thought so,” Lessa murmured.
Prideth was growing well, and Kylara was devoted to his care. There should be no recriminations on account of her dragon. And yet, because of her unprecedented situation, there were. Worse, they had even reached Lessa in her isolation.
Kylara let her gaze shift to Ramoth’s great golden bulk. Ramoth was growing faster than any of the other dragons; someday soon she would be the largest dragon in the Weyr. No one doubted Ramoth.
But lately it seemed everyone doubted Prideth. Everyone except Kylara.
And that rankled, not just because it was a slight against her dragon, but also because those doubts could impose a limit on Kylara’s ambitions. She had come to the Weyr to escape those who wanted to control her. She had come to the Weyr for power, and for the unrivaled freedom of a dragon all her own.
She would find a way to—
“Kylara?”
“They’ve always been fools about Prideth,” she told Lessa. But today, for the first time, she had heard rumors that Prideth would never be a normal bronze because his rider was female. That Prideth might be incapable of a mating flight, somehow crippled by his rider, was an infuriating idea.
Ramoth made an indignant sound as Kylara conveyed this latest affront. Lessa kept her expression more impassive.
Kylara suddenly wanted to lash out as doubt assailed her. There was no one else she could share this with. She had thought Lessa would take her seriously, and when for a moment it seemed that she would not, Kylara prepared to storm out of her weyr.
But even as she fanned the flames of her own anger, something gave her pause. She could not have said what it was. Perhaps some deeply buried recognition that she could not afford to alienate the rider of Pern’s only queen dragon.
Lessa’s eyes fixed on her, strange and intense.
Under that look, Kylara’s mouth went dry. Her heart beat in a frantic rush, and the feeling of desire soon followed, as it so often did when she was the subject of such focused attention. Belatedly, she realized that some of that desire was coming to her mind from Prideth. His surety was soothing, even as everything else about that moment had her feeling completely off balance.
Lessa waited, intent, for Kylara to say it out loud. She did not approach Kylara as a man might have done, attempting to use proximity or touch to soothe her. Kylara could never be certain Lessa had any interest in her at all, beyond the circumstances that had seen them both Impress dragons.
“Today they said that Prideth won’t fly when Ramoth rises,” Kylara admitted, both indignant and bitterly amused. Prideth would fly with the other bronzes during Ramoth’s mating flight. He was young, but he had to fly. All Kylara’s hopes and dreams relied on it. Prideth would never disappoint her.
And yet she had to admit to a trickle of fear. She knew precious little about dragons, and nearly all of that was learned second-hand and not from her own experience. And on top of that, no bronze had ever been known to have a female rider. There was no telling how, or if, such innovation might affect Prideth at the critical time. She had only her belief in him to rely on, and that terrified her.
Kylara was not used to feeling afraid.
“Prideth will fly,” Lessa murmured. Her voice was quiet, but there was force behind it. Lessa, at least, had no doubts. “When Ramoth rises, Prideth will fly.”
It was Kylara who went to Lessa, then. She often felt that Lessa resisted physical closeness, much less intimacy, though she could not have said why. Certainly, Lessa had never tried to push her away or openly reject her. Nor did she do so now. And when Kylara kissed her, she reacted as always with a gratifying acceptance, leaning into her caress as they at last broke apart.
I want to be Weyrleader, Kylara thought. But what do you want, Lessa?
The woman was a mystery, intriguing and infuriating in equal measure. She allowed Kylara a few tantalizing hints—her connection to Ruatha not least among them—but never enough to risk revealing herself or her own ambitions. All Kylara knew was that she had them.
But if Lessa’s declaration came to pass, if Prideth indeed flew Ramoth, Kylara would have plenty of time to uncover all Lessa’s secrets.
She just might have to add that to her list of ambitions.