Chapter 18
The bells ring and ring and ring. Each time, I wonder if the rider will blow the walls and reach us. Each time, my heart stutters.
Ava is anxious, her little body trembling near mine, and I take her and Vos and caress their backs, then take a slow breath, reminding myself of the number of guards posted outside. Not only that, Commander Mallor told me not to worry.
It’s me and my brother all over again, when I had to pretend I wasn’t scared.
“It’s fine,” I whisper. “Just some bells.”
And yet they keep ringing. And ringing—for at least an hour—but I wouldn’t be able to say how long. Surprisingly, sleep takes me.
I wake up early and remember last night, my chest tight, hoping not too many people died. While I spent my life getting used to these attacks, it’s different now that I’ve seen the bodies. But there’s nothing I can do.
After kissing the little dragons, I go to my room to pick up new clothes. Nelly and Celine are fine, but Cynthia is crying. Sheila—her best friend—was on watch last night.
My heart feels heavy as I imagine myself in her place, wondering if a friend is alive or not, but I don’t dare try to comfort her, since I don’t know her well. I take my clothes to the washroom, where I wash and scrub off all the scent of Ava and Vos.
When I return to the bedroom, Celine is talking to Cynthia.
“Wait to hear the news,” she tells her.
But the news might be horrible.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “Let’s hope—”
“Leave!” Cynthia roars, and I walk outside.
Celine and Nelly follow, and we descend to the refectory, even if it’s early. As we’re going down the stairs, Nelly mutters, “She didn’t need to be so rude.”
“She’s upset,” I say.
“Sure.” Nelly shrugs. “But it’s not our fault. And this is the Sky Academy. People die.”
Celine clicks her tongue. “Perhaps we were bothering her, trying to cheer her up. I’d be sad too, if one of you…” She swallows.
“You mean me, right?” Nelly points at herself. “Mayara here has her royal protection.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. It’s true that it’s unfair, but I don’t think there’s anything I can say to make her feel better. I’d just annoy her more if I told her I’d love to fly.
“Don’t be sorry.” Celine shakes her head and gives me a smile. “One less person for me to worry about.” She turns to Nelly. “You’re still in the first year, and will be out of danger for at least some six, eight months.”
“Oh, yes. Such a looooong time.” Nelly snorts. “But I’ll make it count. So, star nectar party tonight?”
Celine wriggles her hands. “Yes, but I think I’ll stay with Cynthia.”
She’s right not to go, and I don’t think Nelly and I should attend either, since it’s a second-year celebration.
Nelly’s disappointment is clear on her face.
“But you don’t know how long we’ll live,” she says as we arrive at the refectory.
“Imagine if one of us dies, and then you’ll remember all the occasions we didn’t get to enjoy together.
Also, Cynthia wanted to be left alone. The least you can do is respect her wishes. ”
Celine pauses. “That’s true. But we also have Cardiana’s ball soon.” I shudder, thinking of Mallor’s deadline, but the girls don’t notice. “It’s not like we won’t have time—”
“It’s not the same, and we don’t know how long we’ll live.” Nelly manages to sound like my brother when he was little, whining that he wanted something. “Please, please.”
“Fine. We’ll go.” Celine smiles at her.
We eat, then head to Dragon Knowledge class. At least today the class is more useful, as Instructor Katrine is talking about fire breathing.
“We don’t know how they produce their fire.” She shows a large diagram of a dragon. “The theory used to be that they had a special organ producing a flammable gas, near the lungs, except that we never found it in any of the bodies we dissected.”
Because it’s magic. The thought springs in my mind—where it will probably remain until eternity.
Katrine continues, “Another theory is that their stomach produces a flammable liquid, but there’s nothing unusual in their digestive system, nothing that makes them unlike other animals. So the answer, for now, is that we don’t know. One day, maybe, we’ll find out.”
Celine smiles, likely imagining making a breakthrough discovery.
The instructor walks back and forth, as if excited by the subject.
“What we need to know is how to deal with their fire. Now, we have extensive experience and accounts coming from the Sky Guard, who faces these dreadful creatures on a consistent basis. Can anyone guess how we can stop a dragon from launching fire?”
A few people raise their hands, and the instructor hears their answers. “Stuffing their mouths,” “Hurting their throat,” “Piercing their stomach,” people say behind me.
Katrine nods, appreciating the participation. “There’s only one way to stop a dragon from burning you. You need to kill it.”
She looks at each of us for a moment, as if checking if we realized the gravity of her words, then, seeming satisfied, continues, “Now, while we can’t stop a living dragon from torching us, there are a few things we know that can help you when you’re up in the air, facing those monsters.
First, there’s a delay. This is the most important point.
From the moment they open their mouths and you see the spark on the back of their throat until the moment they launch a blast of fire, there could be anywhere between three and eight seconds. ”
“Wow, an eternity,” Nelly whispers.
I chuckle silently, then think back to the dragon who healed me, think back to the moment when I saw his mouth open and that flame within his throat. Was he about to burn me and changed his mind? But why?
Katrine then says, “Older, bigger dragons take longer. Not that much longer, mind you. Auranius does not take a year to launch his fire, like some recruit always suggests whenever I teach this class. It’s eight seconds or so.”
I recall all the times I saw our giant dragon flying above us and realize I never saw him breathing fire.
She continues, “If you’re a good flier, four seconds can be enough for an evasive maneuver, and that’s why you spend so long learning to fly. It will help you stay alive.”
In my years of watching gliders, I never saw them make a sharp movement that could evade a fire blast, but maybe I’ve never seen great fliers. Even then, dragons can hit us with their tails, heads, and paws, and they’re much faster than gliders.
Katrine looks at each of us. “A few seconds might also be enough for one of our ballista operators to get them. So there’s always hope.
Also, we didn’t get to the good part yet; the recovery.
A dragon can’t just keep launching fire all the time.
The blast lasts at most five to ten seconds, and then they have to pause.
The time varies between twenty seconds and one minute and depends on how long their last fire blast was and how much fire they have been launching.
Regardless, they’ll always give you a break.
So, after a fire blast, they won’t be breathing fire for a few seconds. It’s a good time to attack them.”
She points at the cabinet with the books. “Each table, take a book. You’ll be reading chapter seven.”
Celine promptly gets up, brings the book, and recites the text. It’s mostly the same thing the instructor told us, and quite boring, but she reads with so much enthusiasm that she manages to make me appreciate the dreary writing—or at least tolerate it.
I wonder then when dragons start to breathe fire, thinking about little Ava and Vos, but the book obviously has no answer for that. Like most of my questions, it remains unanswered.
I stare at the cup with hot tea in my hand and take a deep breath, trying to gather enough courage to drink the most disgusting thing in the world.
I’m in the infirmary with Nelly and Celine, extremely thankful for my second-year friend, who told me I could get bitter tea here, as I was considering going to the restaurant and asking Laristella for some.
But they have it at the academy. Now Nelly and I are both holding our dreadful drinks.
Golden oil is effective, but on its own, might not be enough. At least it’s what Laristella told me. To make things worse, Alayel forgot to pull out a few times, and now I definitely don’t trust the oil to prevent me from getting pregnant.
I place the cup on my lips, shut my eyes, and take a sip. Bitter, bitter, bitter. The worst thing ever. Nelly takes a sip of hers and grimaces.
Celine laughs at us. “You know, I heard Cardiana made the tea bitter on purpose, so we think twice before sleeping with someone. It has to be so good that it makes up for the taste.”
Nelly shakes her head. “It’s not like we do them at the same time, Celine, or like we’re thinking about tea when… you know.”
Celine crosses her arms, but keeps her tone playful. “I don’t know, actually. I have no idea with whom you’ve been doing activities that require bitter tea.”
“No one important.” She lowers her voice. “It’s not like Mayara here, with her royal cock.” My cheeks turn red, and Nelly adds, “I’m joking.”
I want to change the subject, and I’m also annoyed at having to drink this tea, even annoyed at Alayel, who hasn’t been careful.
“The thing that pisses me off is that only we, women, have to choose wisely, consider if it’s worth it, only we have to drink this horrible thing, as if we were being punished for something that men also do. ”
Nelly gives a half shrug. “We’re the ones who can get pregnant.”
“And they can just walk away, careless and free.” It’s my father who comes to mind, that man whose face I don’t even remember.
Celine nods. “It’s unfair, yes. And yet when some of them don’t walk away, it can be terrible too.”
I wonder if she has some trauma, some wound, but I don't want to upset her by poking it. One day, maybe, she’ll open up—when she’s ready.