The light shimmered off Aaraeth as she turned her head from the windows.
Why not?
“Why not what?”
Go after them.
I scoffed. “Go after them? We can’t. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Look around. It’s winter! We’d freeze to death! I have no car, nothing.”
Helplessness filled me, and my gaze settled on a crack in the glossy wood floor.
I’m never stranded. I can fly. She sniffed, seeming to gaze away at a sound I hadn’t heard.
“Yeah? But I can’t…” my voice trailed off as I assessed Aaraeth’s size.
Could I ride you?
Her eyes swirled blue as we considered my question.
“Do people ride their dragons?” I asked, barely frowning.
Her eye ridges raised, and she seemed to shrug. I don’t know. I’ve only known the dragon place where dragons are. People do not go into our world.
I hesitated, the dragon place? I had no time to consider that new piece of information.
Sucking in a breath, I held it for several moments, thinking.
When I came to a decision, I spoke, “Let’s try to be diplomatic first. I need to find the Headmistress’ office and talk to her.” I held my hands out to my dragon as if giving her an opportunity to dive back onto my skin.
The dragon gave me an irritated look before rushing me. I gasped as we merged, her form settling around me like a second skin.
Stumbling backward, I groaned at the mess she’d made. After pushing the desks back into place, I glanced around at what else I would need to fix. Cleaning up after Aaraeth would take too much time, and the thread that bound me to Ashe felt terribly thin and fragile. Setting a book to place it back on the shelf, my hand shook because of the tension. I didn’t have time for this, so I left the rest of the books on the floor along with the plant and its broken pot.
Ashe said it was illegal to keep us apart.
Picking up my backpack, I nearly ran to the Headmistresses office just as the older woman entered. Her knobby fingers slid up and turned on the lights. Pulling me inside, she closed the door behind us.
Angeven continued around to her side of the desk and pulled out her chair. Sitting, she gazed up at me from under her heavy brows. My breath caught in my throat, and I stood there like a fool trying to force it out.
“Well, sit down, child,” she told me, impatient with my silence.
I fell into the chair across from her. “I... Ashe…”
She tilted her head, watching me. “Mr. Carrick has gone, has he?”
Pathetically, my eyes filled, and I nodded, moving to perch on the edge of the seat, my elbows on her desk. “How did you know?”
“Because we spoke last night, and he said he was thinking of leaving.” She pursed her lips, assessing me.
“No,” I whispered. “He wouldn’t have just left. He told me it was illegal to keep us apart.”
Her fragile hands enveloped my own in a warm grasp. “It’s not illegal if you choose it, and he chose to do it for both of you.”
I plucked one of my hands from her strangely tight grasp and pressed it to my chest. “But it hurts. I feel like I’m dying.”
Tears overflowed the rims of my eyes and trailed down my cheeks.
Headmistress Angeven sucked in a breath. “New dragons aren’t supposed to mate so young. You and Aaraeth need time to get used to your own bond before sharing it with others.”
I shook my head, none of this was making any sense. I opened my mouth to protest, but Angeven interjected, “In time, you’ll feel better. However, I can’t allow the two of you to finalize your bond while you’re in my care. You’re so terribly young. It’s simply not done... None of this is usual. There’s going to be a lot to answer for.” She shook her head. “I knew you were too old to have the ritual, and now there are consequences.”
“Consequences?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes. There will be an inquiry. Ashe is most at risk, he’s an adult. He should’ve been able to control Eondian.”
“It’s not his fault... that’s ridiculous,” I spat out.
“A mate-bond is unbreakable. Both Ashe and you need to take some time before agreeing to complete it. I should’ve known better than to have had Ashe Carrick help during the ceremony. Dragon-Bonds run in the Carrick family and yours as well.”
I mopped my tears with the sleeve of my new sweater. “What do you mean?”
“Prime bonds are in your lineage. Your mother was dragon-bonded, and her parents before her, and their parents before them. Dragon-bonds run in Ashe Carrick’s family as well.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have allowed him to be there, but none of us thought... none of us suspected for a moment that…”
“That his dragon would mate with mine?” I said quietly and sucked in a shaky breath.
Her gaze lingered on me for several heartbeats before she answered, “Not at your age. But Eondian knew Aaraeth and felt her in you. If Eondian hadn’t been here, then you probably wouldn’t have become a Prime.”
Her gaze weighed down on me, chills ran the length of my arms. I wasn’t supposed to have a dragon. I was too old, and everyone knew it.
“If I’d been given the ritual at a younger age, would I have gotten Aaraeth?” I asked, my voice small and quiet.
“No one knows, but it’s believed that a person is destined or not destined to a specific dragon or wyvern.” Her eyes darted between my own and the door as it opened.
A woman with unremarkable features and slight build ducked her head before mumbling an apology as she began to slip away again. “I’m so sorry Angeven, I had no idea you were with someone.”
She’s holding something back from you, whispered Aaraeth in my mind.
The headmistress called out to the little mouse of a woman, “No, no. Come in. Miss Miller was just going to class.” She hesitated before her gaze roamed back to me, “Hurry along now. If you hustle, you won’t be late to first period.”
Angeven made a shoeing motion as if I were five years old.
With an irritated expression, I did as she asked. What was she holding back from me?
In my English classroom, most students were already sitting in desks, chatting. Across the room, someone carefully swept up the debris from the broken pot. I spotted the plant now resting in a plastic coffee container on the window sill.
All eyes were on me as I approached the teacher sitting at her desk, reading something on her laptop.
After several ticks of the clock above and she still hadn’t noticed me, I cleared my throat. “Are there assigned seats?”
Glancing up at me, Ms. Popov blinked as if waking from a dream. “Oh, oh,” she stammered, gazing at me through thick glasses. “You must be Sydney, Celine’s daughter. Yes... I mean, no. There are no assigned seats. Please take any open desk.”
Wearily I threaded my way to an open seat in the middle of the class and set my backpack down. It was immediately knocked off by the girl sitting in the next chair.
She sneered up at me. “Don’t sit here, you homewrecker.”
My eyes went wide as I looked at her in surprise. I plucked my bag from the floor as she stared daggers at me.
“Slut!” Came a masculine whisper.
I whirled around to see a dark-haired boy with hooded eyes, a smirk on his lips.
Apparently, I had no allies in this classroom.
What had I done? Was this about Ashe?
Both the boy with the hooded eyes and the girl wore red and white ties... Eton house. Like that of Miss Bryant.
Scanning the room, I searched for an empty desk away from anyone from Eton house.
What a shit show! I thought to myself.
They’re jealous… purred my dragon.
At another empty place, the girl behind pushed a notebook onto the seat.
I raised one eyebrow as if to say, seriously?
She smiled sympathetically and shrugged, mouthing the word sorry.
Puffing out a breath, I made a beeline toward the only other open desk which sat in the front row.
I glared at anyone who dared put me off this seat and tried to relax into the chair.
After tucking my coat beneath my desk, I felt a sharp nudge in my back. This school was getting tiresome.
“I’m not moving,” I growled over my shoulder in low tones.
The middle-aged blond teacher had already started her lecture barely feet in front of me.
I pulled out a notebook and a pencil. She was talking about the book Anna Karenina. A sign of relief flowed through me. I’d seen the movie.
Sitting there ruminating on my situation, I tried to take notes.
Nerves filled me, but so did confidence, or maybe it had been hubris. After all, I took notes almost every day—on our samples on experiments, on what we did.
Shaking my head, I wondered if my dad was right. Was real-life experience better? After all, I’d already watched the movie Anna Karenina with Dr. Emery while we’d been in Alaska last year.
Now that had been interesting… my mind wandered back to the melted permafrost samples.
Then, something hit the back of my head and tangled in my hair. Without turning, I plucked the object and placed it on my desk. Lined notebook paper had been folded into a neat triangle.
Looking up at my English teacher, I tried to follow her words but found myself lost. And just as I’d figured out what Ms. Popov was talking about, something prodded me in the back again.
Whipping around, I glared at the boy behind me and whispered, “Stop it!”
He looked confused and chagrined at the same time. His tanned complexion blushed a bit, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Miss Miller?” Ms. Popov’s heels clicked over to me as she spoke in her Russian accent. “Is there a problem?”
My classmates tittered at me being singled out. Their voices boomeranged back and forth, talking. The slut. The homewrecker.
Something burned inside my chest, and my cheeks heated.
“No. I’m sorry for interrupting.”
She stared at me for several ticks of the clock then at my tormenter, who sat behind me. “Mr. Carrack?”
At Ashe’s last name, I whipped around to look—half expecting my soldier to be in the room. Instead, it was the dark-haired guy who answered.
“It was my fault, I was trying to get more comfortable and accidentally pushed her.” His eyes darted between the teacher and me.
Arms crossed, Mrs. Popov considered his explanation before motioning to him. “Well, apologize to Miss Miller.”
“Uh, I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. There was definitely a family resemblance. Was this Ashe’s brother? I didn’t think so. Cousin? Maybe.
Our teacher grunted a delicate sound before making her way back to the chalkboard. Eyeing us one more time, she pressed a manicured nail to the top word and began lecturing again.
My eyes strayed to the triangle and the writing inside it that sat on my desk.
Ms. Popov continued with her lecture, and I tried to pay attention, mark bullet points, and focus. However, everything about this situation was a distraction.
A brunette girl was huddled over her desk, texting. Another few kids were typing their notes on shiny laptops. And if I glanced at anyone from Eton, I got mouthed a foul word or given the middle finger.
Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes at them. Twats.
A few years ago, I begged... I mean, really begged, with prayer hands and on my knees to go to school. I’d seen all these American television shows about teenagers. And I longed for what I didn’t have. In the end, my dad said no, like he always did. Giving me his standard, “The grass is always greener,” excuse.
My mind wandered back to all the middle school books I read, about the wonder of boarding schools and real magic.
The irony!
That’s how life worked. I’d realized that I’d never quite get what I wanted—it would always come out tainted like a genie’s wish.
So, when did I rub this lamp?
Filled with anger now that I’d worked myself up, I fiddled with the triangle of paper until it came unfolded.
Ready to read some nasty remarks, I steeled myself. But as soon as I spotted Ashe’s name written on the paper, the breath I’d been holding whooshed out.
I’m supposed to look out for you. I know, I suck at it. Ashe is my uncle…
I glanced heavenward and had to stop myself from groaning. Ashe was someone’s uncle? Oh my god! I turned back to the messy masculine script.
Ashe is my uncle, and we’re pretty close. Actually, everyone is pretty close in the Dragonborn community.
He said that you know nothing about us. How is that even possible? Anyway, I was super surprised to see you and even more surprised to see the Eton house being asshats to you—but I kind of get it. Ashe and Lacy have been together for a long time. Everybody loves Lacy, and she’s pretty popular with the professors and the students, so I guess it makes since.
I crinkled my nose at his misspelling and used my pen to correct the “c” to an “s.”
Sense, I whispered.
I began writing where his note ended abruptly.
What’s your name? Ashe is right. I wasn’t raised knowing about all this.
Sucking in a breath, I glanced around the classroom again. The phone girl, still on her phone. Typing kids, still tapping away. Etons being asshats.
Why did he leave? Do you know?
Then I carefully tried to refold the triangle back into shape. And acting like I was adjusting my ponytail, I dropped the note on the desk behind me. I heard rustling as the paper was unfolded.
As for Ms. Popov… I sighed. I wanted to do well in my classes, but I hated reading sad books, and from what I remembered, this was not a happy story.
When Dr. Emery and I watched the movie, she’d said to me, “This is the greatest novel ever written.”
I didn’t agree.
There was cheating and betrayal. Not for me... besides it was depressing, even more, depressing than Wuthering Heights, which I’d actually liked.
I tensed when the triangle hit the side of my neck with a sharp point. Clasping the note, I unfolded it quickly.
I’m Eli—it’s short for Elijah. As for why Ashe left? He had to.
I blew out a breath and scrawled out one word before handing it back.
Why???
This time I didn’t need to wait very long for his response. He hadn’t even bothered to fold up the paper but handed it to me on the side away from Ms. Popov.
OMG!? Why? You’re like what—15? And he’s 23! If they left you two together, you’d do it, and then someone would get in trouble, probably Ashe. He’s a good guy, he’s worked super hard to get to where he is now. He had his life all planned out. He has to be freaking out. I mean, you’re a Lambert—an Orthodox!
Fuck that. I’d leave too.