Becca's alarm woke me around six the next morning. I turned in my covers and watched her silence her phone before slipping her bare feet onto the cold wood floor. After our gazes met awkwardly, I turned over but could still hear the rustling clothing sounds and the cabinet doors being opened.
"I'm taking a shower," she touched the hump that was my shoulder beneath the blanket. "You really should get up."
I answered her with a groan and stayed in bed. She sniffed, but said nothing, leaving me to lie there or not.
Finally, after a few agonizing moments, I pulled myself to my feet and staggered to the wardrobe. The mirror on the door reflected my messy blond hair and the dark circles beneath my eyes.
"I need coffee!" I sighed in a gravelly voice.
Dependency is a sign of weakness. I startled when Aaraeth answered me, her crisp, metallic voice as clear as if she were standing in front of me.
I squeezed my eyes closed at this new reality.
Pulling open the cupboard door before me, I frowned at what Olivia had picked out for me. Spotting a shopping bag I hadn't noticed before, I pulled it off the shelf, the paper rustling in the quiet room. Inside the bag were several silky and cotton underwear pairs along with two satin bras—one white and one black.
I checked the sizes—they should fit. Shivering, I slipped out of my pajama t-shirt before examining the white bra. I unpinned the tag, adjusted the straps, and wrapped it around myself to clasp it in the back. Then, sifting through the black and white underwear, I selected a black pair and slipped those on.
As for the uniform, I opted for a long-sleeve button-down, with a dark V-neck sweater over the top. I completed the look with black wool slacks instead of the plaid skirt Olivia had suggested.
Examining myself in the mirror, I touched the trim that edged my sweater. These were my house colors—blue and green.
Was Drake a good house to be in? I knew nothing about boarding school houses other than what I'd read in Harry Potter. Was I in the Slytherin of Balaur?
The whole situation made me laugh with its absurdity.
Maybe I'd been injured in that car crash myself… and this was all some crazy fever dream.
Only… I knew it wasn't.
This crazy reality, this absolutely ridiculous situation I found myself in was unquestionably, and undeniably, real.
I knew in the depths of my soul that this was happening.
And honestly, for the first time in my life, I felt... normal.
Normal? My dragon asked.
"No," I whispered, feeling foolish about talking to the air.
She peeped up one swirling blue and green eye onto my neck to inspect me in the mirror.
I cleared my throat. "I don't know. I guess…"
You can think to me. You don't have to talk.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head, speaking anyway. "Forget it."
She snorted, and a puff of white smoke rose from my neckline.
I did feel different, though, maybe comfortable in my own skin. I'd always felt a bit out of place but never thought there was an extraordinary reason.
The exact feeling was tough to put a finger on.
As I stood there staring at my reflection in thought, Becca popped back inside the room in a productive flutter.
She sat down at her desk wrapped in a towel, her tan bra straps crisscrossing over her back.
I pursed my lips, questions bubbling up in my mind to ask her about the school. I'd never set foot in a classroom in my entire life.
"What? Why are you staring at me?" She burst out, turning in her seat after she flicked her blow-dryer off.
My eyes went wide, and I looked away. "Sorry... I was thinking... Um… I've never gone to school before."
She laid her brush down. "Seriously?"
I nodded.
Rising from her seat, she sifted through the papers on my desk before going to the closet and pulling out my new backpack. Propping the full bag on the counter, she emptied the contents until she found what she'd been looking for.
It was a Balaur student planner, and inside the first page was a neatly folded schedule and school map.
"Here—look," her pink polished acrylic nail tapped one of the highlighted classrooms. "Someone has even marked all of your classes."
"Oh, wow. That's a lot of classes," I laughed.
She squeezed my arm. "No, it looks normal, and look, you have a study hall and weekly meeting with the school counselor." Her gaze met mine, and she sighed, "Do you need anything else? I don't mind, but you need to ask."
Slipping on my shoes and coat, I shouldered the backpack. Standing in the open doorway, I glanced back at my roommate. "Thanks, I will if I do."
She smiled back at me before applying her mascara. "See you at breakfast. I usually sit at the far-left table near the back—those on the left are Drake tables. You don't have to sit at a Drake table, but, well, most of us do."
I glanced down at the new shoes I wore. They were black Mary-Jane's with a low heel. "I'm not going to breakfast. I don't think I could eat anyway. I'm going to go find all my classes ahead of time."
"Okay, see you later."
When my eyes found Becca again in the mirror, she was curling her bangs with a curling iron.
I closed the door quietly and made my way down the hallway. My stomach turned and rumbled—not from hunger but worry.
Walking the hallways in Drake House, I felt eyes on me, heard a few hellos, but my focus was on getting to the school building, Wyvern Hall.
When I stepped out through the vestibule and into the cold, the frigid air seemed to seize my lungs. The wind, smelling of pine trees and reminding me of Ashe, swirled around me, making my ponytail whip at my face.
I reached out with my mind to feel for my mate the way I had before, but instead of his burning warmth and intensity, I felt nothing.
Aaraeth was quiet, but I still felt her presence. Not like last night when she'd flown into the sky and away from me. The loss of being separated had been uncomfortable.
As I walked, I nodded to myself. My dad would come for me, and when he did, then things would go back to normal.
Stepping out of the shadow of Drake House, the quad was quiet and dark. The sun had risen in the distance but had yet to crest the trees on the horizon.
All my life, I'd been told how stupid school was and how mean kids were, but in my heart, I'd always wanted to go to school—any school. I pictured living in a little house with a mom and my dad. I'd have a mom who would walk me to the bus stop holding her coffee. Then she'd smile and chat with the other parents before waving me away.
Then as I got older, instead of bus rides and a coffee toting mom, I wanted sleepovers and a boyfriend.
I sighed, my breath making a puff of white vapor as it left my mouth.
Dad and I never stayed in one place long enough for me to form any real attachments. I touched my lips and thought of my first kiss. Roman. He'd been a college student doing an internship. We had a brief flirtation that led to stolen kisses in the makeshift lab set up in a field tent.
Then he found out I was only fifteen at the time.
The guy freaked out and treated me like a leper from that point on.
I sniffed and pulled open the door to the Main Hall, thinking of Roman. He'd been nineteen.
The age difference brought me back around to Ashe and his wary expression.
The hesitation and... not quite shame, but maybe it was guilt that I felt from him.
In the eyes of the world, I was still a child. But for most of my life, I'd been treated as an equal and partner by my dad. I took care of him, and he did the same.
And now I'd abandoned him.
I left him in a foreign hospital all alone.
He might die, and I'd be here.
I bit my bottom lip as waves of anger and helplessness washed over me.
I was a terrible person. Here I was thinking about guys and pitying myself while my dad fought for his life thousands of miles away.
There's nothing you can do. I told myself. It's out of your control.
"Is it, though?" I spoke the words aloud and swallowed hard.
Was I genuinely helpless? Did I really, honestly, believe that?
I wasn't in a cage. I wasn't locked up.
I needed to leave, and before I could do that, I needed a plan.
But I couldn't give myself away. I had to at least appear to try to adapt.
But Ashe… My mind seemed to whisper.
I sucked in a shaky breath — one step at a time.
Reaching Wyvern Hall, I yanked on the door, and it opened with a slight creak. Checking the map, I made my way to one of the yellow highlighted classrooms on the first floor. My new shoes made quiet, taps on the worn hardwood floor.
This building was old, but well maintained. The turn of the century architecture and furniture conjured up women in long dresses and men with top hats and canes.
The lights were off, but sparse emergency illuminations guided my way. The sun had crested the trees, shining yellow light into the building with slanted beams that trickled through classroom windows and transoms.
When I arrived at the classroom, I tried the door, but it was locked. Gazing around, I searched for some kind of landmark to remember this specific room by. A paper covered message board hung next to the door and I marked it in my memory.
Checking the map, I searched out another class—literature. It was on the third floor with Ms. Popov. Trudging through the building, I found the English section. All the doors were open, allowing warm puddles of sunshine to spill into the hallway.
I peered inside and was greeted with a typical classroom setting. All the desks faced a large chalkboard that spanned the room. The teacher's desk sat in one of the front corners surrounded by plants, knickknacks, and baskets full of papers.
But my favorite part was the windows that reached all the way to the ceiling giving an unobstructed view of the forest. The tall pines outside beckoned to me, and I set my backpack down on the foot-wide ledge below the glass. The dense green forest began about ten meters from the building.
I laid my hand against the window, and when I pulled it away, my handprint began fading from the surface.
Mixed emotions swirled inside me, and I turned to gaze around the room. On the other side of the room were rows and rows of books. I spotted Of Mice and Men, Pride and Prejudice, and a few others that I didn't recognize.
When I felt like I'd taken the measure of the place, I slid out my cell phone. Opening up my email, I found nothing—again.
The microphone icon sparked an idea. First, I set my VPN to Vietnam and then searched for the hospital my dad was in.
Biting my lip, I dialed the number using the call feature in my email.
I hesitated when the call was answered in Vietnamese.
"Hi, hello. Do you speak English?" I asked breathlessly.
A long pause hung over the line until a new person answered. "Yes. Hello?"
"I'm looking for George Miller. He's an English man, blond hair, blue eyes?" I breathed, trying to speak clearly.
"Ahh, yes."
"…wait! Can I talk to him?" I asked, but the man had already placed me on hold.
"Hello?" A woman's soft voice came onto the line. "You are looking for George Miller?"
"Yes, I'm his daughter. Is he doing better? Can I talk to him?"
"He is still sedated. You may come in and visit."
"I can't. I' m... I… Can I give you my email or my phone number to text me or call me with updates?"
She hummed a reply, and I very carefully gave her my email.
"When will he wake up? Will he wake up?"
"He has swelling in the brain. When the swelling goes away, we will wake him up to check damage…"
I cut her off, "damage?"
She hummed her reply, "Mmmm. Yes. Hopefully, he will be fine, but he had a lot of trauma to his brain. Head injuries can only be assessed when patient wake up."
"But he has brain activity, right?" I breathed.
"Yes. Brain activity is normal."
After getting a promise to contact me with updates, I said goodbye and ended the call.
Worry mixed with guilt washed over me again.
Then outside the window, something caught my attention. Branches of the towering pines swayed in the breeze, and I thought I saw a shimmer of something black.
Aaraeth perked up and slid over my skin. Eondian is nearby.
Searching the trees, I spotted the giant black dragon looming in the shadows below.
I reached out to the beast and to Ashe with my mind. A shiver of fear ran through me at the memory of the dragon from the cave.
You fear Eondian? My own dragon asked.
I'm not sure, I told her.
Hmmm… She murmured.
The large shape below disappeared, and I sat there in silence, staring out into the forest. My back ached, and I stretched, reaching my arms into the air.
Then, a tug seemed to pull at something deep inside me, and I straightened. It felt like something was stretching outward... extending... unfolding. My heart raced, and I let out a gasp... not quite pain but definitely the opposite of pleasure.
Aaraeth slipped my control over her, sliding off my skin to appear beside me. She gazed out the window, her long form pushing the nearby desks out of order and her tail knocking several books off the window sill.
"Aaraeth?" I reached out to run a hand over her beautiful turquoise scales before gasping for breath as the invisible cord tugged painfully at my chest. "Oh my god! Ashe is leaving… isn't he? Aaraeth? Do you feel that?" I stumbled over the words.
Yes. They are leaving. She told me angrily, her claw scratching at the window.
I turned toward her, "What does this mean? Are they leaving for good? For how long? Why?"
Snorting, her breath left a layer of vapor on the window. Sydney, you make me weary. I do not know these human things.
I blew out my own exasperated sigh.
Glancing at my phone, I connected to the wifi and texted the number Ashe gave me.
There was no response, and I paced the small area Aaraeth had cleared with her body and tail, not caring that she was making even more of a mess around us.
Ashe's number kept going directly to voicemail. I tried it again and then twice more, the same.
Finally, after a potted plant fell from its perch, I looked up at my dragon. "Will you knock it off! Get back into your tattoo or whatever! I don't need more problems to clean up!"
As soon as the words slipped out, I regretted my tone.
Fear, pain, and confusion filled me. I was lashing out, and Aaraeth didn't deserve my harsh words.
The dragon stood still, her multifaceted eyes gleaming in the dim light of the morning.
"I'm sorry," I told her, shaking my head and closing the distance between us. Carefully reaching out, my fingers stroked the ridges above her eyes.
Sydney, there is a simple solution. We must go after them.
I bit my lip and sank down into the nearest upright chair, defeat filled me. "We can't.”