Chapter 8 #2
We paraded down the hall behind Luther, silent as we all took in the halls of Cardan Lott for the first time. First stop, the hall for sciences. The chemistry room beckoned with long tables and microscopes.
“Dragons are a little big for microscopes, don’t you think?” said a tall, broad-chested boy with slicked dark hair and a bored smirk.
Luther tapped the doorframe to the open classroom. “Think microscopes are beneath you, Prescott? Hasn’t your brother told you what to expect here? Tell me, what would you put on a dragon whose wing was sliced by a branch?” When no one answered, he huffed. “What would you put on an open wound?”
The blond girl lifted her hand. “I thought dragon scales were too hard to break. Dragons don’t really get open wounds, do they?”
My eyes cut instinctively to Covington. He was standing with hands in his pockets, posture slouched, eyes half-closed in boredom.
Wintercress, I wanted to say, but I held my tongue. If Covington didn’t feel like answering, I wouldn’t either.
“If you think for one moment that any class here is irrelevant, think again. Chemistry might just save your dragon’s life one day, Miss…?”
“Alcott. Scarlett Alcott.”
“Miss Alcott.” Luther shook his head. “You might think you know a lot about dragons, but I assure you, you know nothing in comparison to what you will learn here. Any more questions? Good.”
We marched up a flight of wide wooden stairs as another group of students filed toward the stairs to descend into the hall we’d just left. Luther stepped in front of the group’s leader, a pretty redhead with her hair tied back in a black ribbon.
“Password,” he said, standing a little too close to her.
The girl blushed and lifted her chin. “Out of my way, Luther.” As she stepped around him, she waved her house after her. “Walk on this side, Diamonds; you don’t want to catch what that one has.” She lifted her brows and pranced down the steps, leaving Luther to stare after her.
I bit my lips to hide my smile. I liked that girl, whoever she was. A few of the female students who followed her turned doe eyes at Shep as they passed. One girl pointed at Covington and whispered something in her friend’s ear. The two girls blushed crimson as they hurried by.
As the tour continued, we passed through wide stone hallways lined with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, and occasionally portraits of former students who had gone on to greatness.
Racing champions. Members of parliament.
Great businessmen. At an intersection between the literature and history halls stood a portrait of the former king from his days as a student at Cardan Lott.
Shep paused before the painting and offered a quick bow, then each student in turn, as we passed, offered a quick bow or head nod to the portrait before shuffling on.
It was customary after a sovereign’s death to honor his or her likeness for at least one year.
My eyes lingered on the portrait, the king staring slightly off to the left, looking down the hall where he had once received an education.
After the tour, they took us back to the dorms, where we would receive our roommate assignments.
My attention flicked to each of the four girls walking in our little group, wondering who I’d have to share a room with for an entire year.
I hoped it wasn’t Scarlett, the blond girl who’d mocked me for never having seen a secret passage.
Everything about her screamed wealth, from the shine of her long hair, to the clothes that looked like they’d never been worn, to the gaudy ruby dangling on her right ring finger.
A statement, considering she couldn’t have been sure the dragons would have let her into this house.
The curly-haired girl next to Scarlett seemed to hang on her every step and every word, and I’d seen her looking at me with wide, almost scared eyes, as if the nobleman’s poor fashion sense deeply offended her.
There was Vanya and a tall, thin girl whose name I didn’t yet know.
Her skin was darker than Vanya’s, her eyes a striking green.
Her stare was blank, not vapid but unmoving, as if utterly unimpressed by her surroundings.
Out of the five of them, Vanya was the only one who’d said anything kind to me.
In the hallway outside House Ruby, Luther turned toward us.
“Hatchlings,” he said, lifting his arms wide to prevent us from following.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Covington scratching the back of his neck in a disinterested way.
Luther’s eyes flicked toward him until Covington dropped his hand and lifted his chin.
As much power as the Covington name had, he was still a first year. A smirk curled the edge of my mouth.
“You all have to enter through the outside door,” Luther reminded us, pointing in the direction of the entryway.
Begrudgingly, we traipsed outside and then back into House Ruby from the courtyard.
Inside Ruby’s common room, the upperclassmen lounged on the couches. A tall girl stood up. She had a narrow face and a tight smile.
“Hatchlings,” she snapped, clapping her hands as she marched with prim little steps toward us.
“Girls, I’m the House Lead for you. My name is Camille.
You will follow me to your dormitories. Boys.
” She pointed and flashed a smile at the first years.
Was she blushing as she made eye contact with Covington?
She had to be two or three years older than him, and still he made her blush.
I coughed quietly. “This will be your home for the next three years, assuming you can keep up. I will show you to your dormitories.” Then she flashed a smile and spun on her heels, her curly hair springing out behind her.
We exited the large common room through an arched doorway on the right-hand side of the wall of bookshelves. A stone stairwell curled up and spilled out onto another creaky wooden floor leading down a short hallway. Three wooden doors dotted the hall on each side.
“Those two rooms on this side and that one there on the other side are for the first years,” Camille said, pointing down the hall.
“Your rooms have been assigned, and your things are already waiting for you. Settle in and we will see you in the Great Hall for supper. I will call your names and tell you your room assignments. Alcott.” Scarlett stepped forward. “Room six.”
She descended the short list in alphabetical order.
“Arivelle Miro,” she said, the slight change to my surname grating as it fell from her lips.
I was used to people mispronouncing my family name, and I almost corrected her before remembering Fairfax had altered the spelling not only to hide my true identity but to reflect a name he claimed had ties to nobility in Avencia, where we claimed Myth was from too. “Room six.”
My lips turned down as I eyed Scarlett just pushing into room six at the end of the hall.
Slowly, I stepped down the hallway, shoes clicking on the wood.
Scarlett had left the door open, and I could see her peering down at my trunk as if it might have fleas.
I exhaled slowly and stepped into the room.
Pale walls, two long beds, two desks, and a bare wooden floor met my eyes. A trunk stood at the end of each bed.
The blond girl scoffed as I entered. “They can't be serious.”
From down the hall, I heard Camille say, “You heard me. No changing.”
Scarlett made the most selfish noise I'd ever heard and stomped her foot. A moment later, she blazed from the room, bumping my shoulder as she brushed past me. I pressed my lips together and nodded to myself. This was going to be a long year.
Thankful for the solitude of the empty room, I changed into my school uniform, eager to shed the yellow dress, and stood at the window, staring over the grounds for a long moment.
Mist lay lazily against the slope of Gray Mountain rising behind the school.
The fast-moving clouds had thickened since the morning, and only small slivers of sunlight raced across the grass on the back lawn and disappeared over the forest. A few boys played a game on the lawn, chasing after a ball.
Something moved over the forest, stealing my gaze away from the students. A dragon arced gracefully over the treetops, then dove out of sight. A dragon from the lair out hunting, perhaps. My heart flipped. Myth would be coming here soon. I was actually going to learn to ride a dragon.
A harsh knock sounded at my door.
I hurried to open the door, worried I’d lost track of time gazing out the window and missed some important meeting. It banged open and Vanya stormed inside, followed by Camille.
“Oh, yes, this one. It's perfect,” Vanya said, marching in with her hands clasped beneath her chin. She winked at me and strode between the beds. She didn't stop until her forehead pressed against the window.
Camille stood in the doorway, a frown on her face. Her eyes flicked between me and Scarlett, who’d followed them back inside our room, then back to Vanya. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Your Highness?
Vanya was beaming. She pranced back through the small room, one hand lifted in the air. “You may bring my things in when it is convenient.”
At my confused expression, Camille said with a sigh, “Our resident princess wants this room instead of the single room. Says she must face the sun at dawn or it interferes with her religion or something.”
I glanced at my things. “Do I need to move all this?”
Vanya turned to me. “Oh, no, you’re staying. She’s going.” She pointed at Scarlett’s things.
“Whatever you say, Princess,” Camille huffed, then spun on her heel and departed, followed by Scarlett, who was jabbering about who would move her things.
In the ensuing silence, I stared at Vanya, who once again faced the window with hands on her wide hips. She glanced at me, bright smile replacing the scowl she’d worn a moment ago.
“That was easy,” she said, clapping her hands.
“I will have to complain to Father though. These rooms really are dramatically small.” Vanya must have noticed my crimson blush, because she chuckled, a loud, unrestrained sound so unlike the laughter of the upper-class women I’d heard on the streets or after worship services.
“You look miserable, darling. What in the world is plaguing you?”
I blinked, unsure how to say it. “Should I—Your Highness—do I need to…”
Vanya strode forward, shaking her head, and grabbed my hands. “No, please do not let my position cause you any discomfort.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “While I’m here, forget I’m a princess.”
My lips tugged upward on one side. “Camile won’t be forgetting.”
Vanya nodded firmly and dropped my hands. “As well she shouldn’t. That girl needs a little reminding of what rank really is. But you”—her expression softened—“needn’t worry about it. I couldn’t let that awful Scarlett torture you all year.”
I lifted my chin. “I can handle her.”
The princess flashed me a smile. “I bet you can. But life will be much more fun with me as your room partner, roommate, whatever you call this.” She tossed her long, dark hair.
“Father sent me here to make an impression as much as to learn. So you can bet I won’t be drifting by on the breeze like some puff of dandelion. ”
“Do you even have to face the sun at sunrise?” I asked, testing the waters to see if she truly wanted me to treat her like an equal.
Vanya swatted the air in a dismissive way.
“Camille hasn’t the faintest clue what my religion entails.
I could have told her I needed to bathe in liquid gold to wash away my sins, and she would have believed me.
” Shrugging, she added, “But technically, yes. My people worship the sun, though devotion in my family is more akin to a swear word than a positive trait.”
She squared her shoulders as she pranced out the door, looking once more like the poised princess.
Attempting to hide my smile, I followed her into the hallway, where the curly-haired girl in our year, whose name I’d heard during room assignments was Mabel Davenport, curtsied hastily at Vanya’s appearance.
Vanya blazed on by, not sparing the girl a glance.
A week ago, I’d slept piled up with my sister on a cot; now I was sharing quarters with foreign royalty. Already, my year at Cardan Lott was shaping up to be quite interesting.
Dinner passed in a blur as we ate filet mignon on gilded plates to the hum of violins in the background, apparently a tradition on the first night of the year.
Headmaster Vaughan addressed us with inspiring words about excellence and honor, but the chocolate-covered strawberries stuck in my mind more than his exhortations.
One of the three first-year boys in House Ruby with us was the headmaster’s son, who’d blushed nearly purple when his father had nodded at him during his speech.
In the common room after dinner, cookies rested in a pyramid on the table before the leather couches. Everyone dove for them, and I couldn’t help but smile as I bit into the soft, chocolatey cookie.
“They call them dragon scale cookies,” one of the older girls said as she watched Prescott grab five more. “They serve them every year on the first night.”
The excitement of the day had left me more tired than I’d realized. I fell asleep quickly in my dorm room, still in shock over the fact that I was officially a student at Cardan Lott College. I’d nearly forgotten Luther’s warning from earlier.
Until I woke up in the middle of the night, a blade pressed against my throat.
“Come with us,” said a deep voice.