Chapter 19
“Ineed some quiet,” I announced to Vanya the next evening as I attempted to read a book on my assigned monarch.
A pack of boys was playing a rowdy game of cards over by the couches, and one of the second years had his violin out and was practicing a song by the window.
Vanya flipped her book closed, the latest romance by the popular author Vivienne Arnaud.
“I’ll come,” she said, standing.
“I think I might have to stay all night for this one,” I said, hoping it was a decent excuse. I wanted to look for more books on dragonfire.
“It’s not due for another week, Ar.” But at my expression, she added, “Okay, I’m coming.” She smiled and followed me from the common room, clearly misreading my flat expression as a plea for company.
Keeping the truth from Vanya was painful, but Fairfax had warned me not to reveal my hand too soon.
I couldn’t help what Covington knew, but I at least would give Myth his greatest chance and not tell anyone else.
There were so many things that I hadn't really considered when I’d decided, in a wave of emotion, to come to Cardan Lott.
There had been joy, excitement, ambition, and not much else.
Keeping a wild dragon was one thing. Training it to be a racer, to fly in close proximity to other dragons, was another thing entirely.
Dragons used their flame for dominance as much as defense, and I wasn’t sure I could simply train that out of him.
His sparks would turn to real flames soon enough.
When we got to the library, it was mostly empty, save for a few second years clacking away at typewriters, clearly chasing a deadline.
The sound was oddly soothing, keeping the library from being eerily quiet.
In one corner, I spotted Covington slouched over a desk, tapping his pen lightly on the wood.
He glanced up at me as I walked through the double doors and slid into a seat at a table on the opposite end of the room.
The fact that he was here drew my mind back to my dragon, but I opened my history book and tried to focus on the words. An hour later, my eyes kept bouncing off the words on the page.
Shep had sauntered in a half hour ago with a pair of third years, and it had killed my concentration, my eyes drifting to him entirely too often.
At one point, Shep looked up and caught me staring.
My cheeks flamed. He closed his book and pushed back from the table, dismissing himself from his friends with a quiet wave.
Shep tapped the table as he walked past us, drawing our attention from our papers.
“Get some sleep, ladies,” he whispered, his eyes lingering on me as he slowly turned toward the library doors.
When he was gone, Vanya’s lips pinched back a smile. “Keep it up, and he’ll ask you to the spring ball.”
“The what?” I said, my voice rising a little too loud. A few other faces glanced up at me, including Covington’s. I lowered my voice so I was barely audible and leaned against the table. “What ball?”
Vanya tilted her head. “Oh, really, Ari, how can you not have heard of it?” She blinked at my silence. “It’s all the girls are talking about.”
I lifted my hand. “You’re my only friend, Van. In case you hadn’t noticed.”
She scoffed and waved my comment away. “They don’t know how magnificent you are yet. But they will”—she leaned forward, matching my posture—“when they see you dancing with Shep at the ball.”
My head shook slightly, partly dismissing her words and partly trying to shake the flip of excitement in my stomach at the thought of dancing with Shep. “He’s just a friend.”
“The ball is held every year at the start of racing season. An old tradition here.”
I frowned. “That’s months from now.” Racing season officially began at the start of spring.
“Give yourself some credit.” She reached out and tapped the side of my head with her pen.
Instinctively, I reached up to see if any ink had smeared on my face.
“He didn’t ask me what I was doing this afternoon, and he bowed to you at the train station.
Plus, he’s here, isn’t he? After you told him you’d be here tonight. ”
“This is the library. Everyone comes here.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’ll ask you, and you will say yes.” She nodded, waiting for confirmation.
I nodded back. “Okay, sure.”
She wiggled her fingers in glee. “Ari, he’s the third-year champion! Going with him would make them all look at you differently.”
I sat back in my chair so fast it clunked a little, drawing more scowls from those around me. “I don’t want my value as a person to come from who I’m courting. I mean, we’re not courting. I don’t…” I huffed and stopped talking, staring in dismay at my half-filled paper.
Vanya studied me, waving her pen back and forth in her long fingers. She was striking, even late at night with her dark hair tied back and the shine of a long day touching her skin. Even if she weren’t royal, she would turn heads.
“You don’t get it,” I mumbled, trying to focus on the words in front of me, which were starting to blur together.
“Actually, my dear, I do get it.” She waited to say more until I was staring at her.
“People are fearful beings, and they often won’t form an opinion of their own without some encouragement in one direction or another.
They’re afraid to think on their own, so they let the world shape their ideas, their opinions.
Few are brave enough to think against the current around them.
With a little encouragement, however, a person’s mind can be changed. ”
A weak smile tugged at my lips. “You liked me without any encouragement.”
“I don’t need someone else to think for me.” Her words came out light, but there was a heaviness to them that touched her eyes. She closed her books and rose, and I was struck by how very different we were; even her movements were regal. “Don’t forget to sleep, Ari.”
After another quarter hour of unfruitful work, I glanced up at Covington. He was staring at me from across the library. He jerked his head toward the doors, and I was standing before I knew what I was doing.
Outside the library, my heart beat like I was stealing something as I walked down the hall toward Covington’s retreating form. Around a corner, he paused, back against the wall.
“What?” I hissed, voice low.
“Have you told anyone? Does Vanya know? Does Shep?”
I shook my head violently. “No.” I straightened. “What happened?”
He sighed. “Nothing.”
“You can’t drag me out into the hall, worried to death something has happened, and then say nothing.” I crossed my arms.
“Did you learn all there is to know about training a dragon with its flame?” he asked, nodding back toward the library.
My shoulders fell a little. “No. There isn’t anything in there about—”
He cut me off. “I know, Miro.” His voice was sharp. “You can’t keep checking out all the books about dragonfire that exist in the library. Or about wild dragons. It’s too obvious. I thought you knew to be discreet about this.”
I scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll just consult my family compendium of infinite dragon-training knowledge.”
He turned aside, one hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose.
Before he could reply, I blazed on, fueled by mounting anger. “What would you do if something were ever difficult for you?”
He whirled on me, his eyes wild. “You have no idea what difficult even is.”
“How dare you talk like you know what I’ve gone through.”
We held each other’s gazes, our breaths the only sounds.
“My room was searched,” he finally said, voice barely above a whisper.
My brows rose in surprise. “Did they find your journal?”
A quick head shake was his answer, and, strangely, I felt a surge of relief. “I don’t keep it in my room anymore. Sorry, but I didn’t trust you.”
“Don’t blame me for this,” I hissed at him.
He leaned back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. “The next night race was canceled. Looks like someone turned in the date to the authorities, and Vaughan has warned all the upperclassmen to stop the races.”
“There won’t be any more?” I asked, disappointed.
“No, there will be more. This happens almost every year. They just need to plot a new course.” He glanced down the hall, as if he’d heard something. “The next one was postponed. End-of-semester thing now.”
“So, we can’t do your little test, then?”
He snorted. “There are a few more things I can try here. Tomorrow night. Unless you and Shep have plans?”
A quick, embarrassed laugh burst out. “No.”
“Good.” He crammed his hands in his pockets as he strolled away.
A fine layer of frost crunched under my feet as I hurried up the path to the lair one morning in the eerie pre-dawn stillness.
My breath fogged in front of me, and my stomach growled from hunger.
All the running and strength training we were doing had increased my appetite tenfold.
For the past few weeks, nights in the lair with Covington had reduced to a once-a-week thing as the weight of end-of-term essays and projects had piled on.
With someone clearly watching Covington, we had to vary the times we met, and the days.
The Hunt, at least, had moved on, finally declaring the school grounds safe from wild dragons.
Myth was curled up on the ledge in his den when I arrived. I spoke softly to him as I approached, not wanting to alarm him. But his golden eyes were already open.
“I know, it’s too early for this. I don’t want to be here, either,” I said to him, noting his deliberate stillness.
He snorted, sending a pair of sparks into the air. Inside his den, the temperature was much warmer, the stone walls holding in the heat radiating off of him. Overhead, his skylight was shut against the cold.
“You mean you don’t love our little rendezvous?”
I whirled around, startled by how silently Covington had approached. He looked as if he hadn’t slept at all, hair falling from its usual perfection, eyes puffy and dim.
“You look awful,” I said.