Chapter 9 #2
I wanted to walk over and touch them, but that would look strange to these people who’d grown up in homes with personal libraries.
So instead, I walked to the nearest table and picked up the book that was standing there.
The Fury of Winter. I’d heard of that one, apparently a great and heartbreaking tale of a young man growing up on Gray Mountain when the city of Treston was little more than a few homesteads.
In it, the hero spends a few blissful years with his dragon, only to lose his dragon early in life.
I’d never checked it out from the library because I liked my heart whole and happy while reading, not broken and left for dead.
I set the book back down. It was then that I noticed the wiry man in the back of the classroom.
The dark professor’s robe swallowed his thin frame, and glasses hung at the end of his nose.
He wore a tidy black beard barely touched with specks of white, and his movements were quick and precise as he walked toward the front of the room.
“I am Almar Siva,” he announced when everyone was seated.
“Graduate of Cardan Lott, then Winchester University, whose illustrious literature program has produced our country’s finest writers, many of whom you will read about in your first-year studies.
” He picked up a copy of The Fury of Winter, a critically acclaimed book I'd never read, and raised it at his side.
“My good friend, Ulmsted, penned this novel during my first year as a doctoral student at Winchester. I had the pleasure of reading an early draft of it, a fact I like to say is one of the reasons the book turned out so well.” He chuckled, but the class remained silent.
“It was truly an honor to participate in the creation of this great book. A fitting place to begin your studies here at Cardan Lott.”
I glanced at Vanya, whose lips were pinched just enough to let me know she felt the same way I did about his glittering introduction.
With a sigh, I grabbed my copy of the book on my desk and flipped it open to the introduction, which Master Siva read in a booming voice.
“To my friend, Almar.” He placed a hand on his chest.
Literature wasn’t going to be as thrilling as I’d hoped, but I tried not to let that dampen my spirits as we trailed out of the room two hours later, ears buzzing with Siva’s literary commentary and constant self-praise.
“That book is awful,” Vanya moaned as we strolled down the wide hall after lunch. The wood floors reflected the bright sunlight, drawing my focus toward the windows. I longed for the fresh air and our first lesson at the lair. “How can we be expected to read all six hundred pages by next week?”
I shrugged, trying not to think about it. “Maybe the book gets better?” I offered.
Vanya shot me a look. “Come on, we have fifteen minutes before chemistry.”
The Great Hall sat adjacent to one of the small courtyards that dotted the grounds.
The sun was shining through a thin veil of white clouds, just enough to create soft shadows on the ground.
Stone statues stood at intervals in the courtyard, spots of lichen marring their faces.
This building had been the home of a duke long before it had become the school and was filled with vestiges of its royal heritage, including these statues that looked hundreds of years old.
I walked toward one of the statues and glanced at the weatherworn face. It was hard to determine if it was a man or woman at this point. I glanced at the ground, looking for a name plate or sign. As I edged around the statue, I bumped into Vanya.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I wanted to know who this was the statue of.”
“Well, that’s not very exciting, is it?”
I shrugged. “He was important enough to have a statue made of him. That’s kind of exciting to me.”
Vanya rolled her eyes. “I’ve had three statues made of me, and I’m not that exciting.”
I smiled at her. “Three, huh?”
“Well, one of them is just a bust, so I guess two and a half? They don’t do me justice; I’ll say that.”
I shook my head at her. “I'm sure they don't.”
She pulled on my arm and dragged me away from the statue. “Have you heard what they’re all talking about?”
“Who?”
“All the girls.”
“No.” The other girls didn’t talk to me.
“Rhett Logan,” she said, looking up at the sky as if I were the silliest person in the world.
“Logan?” I patted my pockets, looking for the list of my classes, but I had left it with my stack of books. “Isn't he the—”
“Yes, the chemistry professor,” she said. She jerked her head to the side. “He’s over there, sitting on one of the benches.”
Beneath the only tree in the courtyard sat a man in a tweed suit, his robe splayed open on the bench beside him.
One ankle rested on his knee, and a book lay open in his lap.
As I stared at him, I became aware of the giggles and the murmurs carrying around the courtyard.
Our science professor was strikingly handsome and surprisingly young.
His chin was smoothly shaven, and tight curls sat on top of his head.
Thin spectacles rested on his nose, and he carried the air of a scholar.
He had an expertly shaped jawline, and even though he was sitting, he looked tall, all angles.
He appeared not to notice the yammering of the girls in the courtyard, despite the small space.
Vanya clasped her hands together. “Oh, this will be fun.”
“He’s a professor,” I said, pinching my brows at her.
“And I’m a princess. I wonder how old he really is,” she said, looking at him again.
“You can’t be serious. What if he’s already married?”
Vanya shook her head. “Do you remember what I said about my family and devotion?”
A small scoff escaped my lips as the chemistry professor uncrossed his legs and stood, closing the book but keeping one finger to hold his place.
“All right,” he announced to the courtyard, “it’s that time.” His robes billowed out behind him as he walked toward the doors leading back inside. The girls shuffled quickly after him.
The day passed in a blur, my mind too full of information to process everything that we had seen and heard and learned. But as we filed outside once more, the day now overcast and windy, my heart rate soared.
It was time for our first official lesson in the lair.