““Are you calling me weak?' 'No.' Mira squeezes my hand. 'Just... fragile.' 'That's not any better.' Dragons don't bond fragile women. They incinerate them. 'So she's small.' Mom scans me up and down, taking in the generous fit of the cram belted tunic and pants I selected this morning for my potential execution. I snort. 'Are we just listing my faults now?' 'I never said it was a fault.' Mom turns to my sister. 'Mira, Violet deals with more pain before lunch than you do in an entire week. If any of my children is capable of surviving the Rider's Quadrant, it's her.””
