Chapter 23
It’s Starting
Sinta
I’d left Kenya in the care of the healers, Nat at her side.
Nat assured me she’d watch over her, even offered to let me hit her again if she failed.
Since she’d watched me beat that muscle-head to a pulp, I felt her saying that meant a lot.
Kenya had promised to let me know what the healer said, but I hadn’t been able to get my injuries taken care of.
There’d only been one healer on staff, a trainee, and she’d made it clear she wasn’t powerful enough to heal Kenya and me.
My choices had been to wait an hour for the other healer to return, or go about my business.
I didn’t want to be late for my meeting, I felt like it was too important – especially now.
So I’d sucked it up and left them to it.
It didn’t hurt too bad anyway – and it wasn’t the first time I’d had to grin and bear it.
I doubted it would be the last.
Stopping before the secretary’s desk outside Mr Orichalcum’s office, I smiled politely and asked, “Is Mr Orichalcum here yet?”
She gawks at me, her eyes roving my undoubtably messy face. “Y-yes.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
Moving to the office door, I politely knock.
“Enter.”
I step inside and make sure the door is closed behind me.
“I’m a little bit early.” I murmur.
He's bent over the desk again, nothing but a mop of silvery-white hair and wide shoulders to my eyes.
He doesn’t bother to look up, too absorbed in whatever he is writing.
“That’s perfectly fine, I had my afternoon cleared for this meeting.” He answers distractedly, motioning to one of the chairs across from him. “Please, have a seat. I’ll be with you momentarily.”
I gingerly lower myself into the seat on the right, my arm looped over my ribs like that’ll stop them from hurting.
I’m quiet as I wait, my mind somehow managing to drift even with all the chaotic thoughts weighing it down.
I take in his office a bit better now that I have the time, noticing that most of his books are really old.
They’re either falling apart or have crumbling leather binding, the newer books standing out like a sore thumb.
His desk isn’t as cluttered as before, instead covered with rows of neatly piled paperwork.
How busy is he?
How many students does he manage to have to deal with that much paperwork?
Maybe he does other work for the Academy too. I didn’t see why a Counsellor would need so many books and tomes if all he did was look after students.
“I trust that your classes went well today?” He asks, still writing. “You weren’t thinking of dropping your art course?”
“No, I love my art class. The rest were…. Okay, I guess.”
He nods, humming. “Good, I’m glad.”
Finishing whatever he was writing with a flourish, he sits back and goes about sorting the paper into a pile. “I’ve made arrangements for you to have a tutor in Fae culture, I think putting you in the class may be more damaging than helpful. They are also going to help coach you through and teach you about being a Dragon Shifter. I have someone else who will be helping you to shift when it is time, but they are currently—”
Mr Orichalcum barks harsh curses in a language I don’t understand, shooting up from his chair.
“What happened? Who hurt you?” He demands, rushing around his desk.
“I’m fine, I’m okay.” I reassure him, waving off the hand that reaches out to touch my face. “It was just Combat class. It’s actually the reason why I’m here early.”
“Who am I disciplining?” He intones.
“Probably the asshole professor.” I mutter, then blanch. “Ah, I mean, it was mostly the professor and one guy. But I beat him. This,” I gesture to my injuries. “Is actually not nearly as bad as I did to him.”
“And you aren’t healed, why?”
“The healer was busy with my friend, she didn’t have enough power to heal us both, and my friend had a broken arm….” I murmur, cringing at the furious look on his face. “I really am okay. It’s not that bad.”
“You have claw marks on your arm and your face appears to have been trampled. How could you possibly be okay?” He seethes.
I didn’t like such a low tone, especially when he looked so furious.
“I know. Fighting isn’t easy.” I defend.
He lets out a long sigh through his nose, his white eyes glaring into my soul.
I glance away simply because it was unnerving, and not because I felt like he was reading my mind or deciphering my secrets.
“Tell me everything.” He demands.
So I did. Every little detail, no matter how small. What the asshole Combat teacher said and did. What Tremore did to Kenya.
But especially what I did. What we did.
And how quiet my dragon was now. Like she’d gone to sleep in my middle – too exhausted to offer so much as a flutter to acknowledge my attention.
He nods along, his eyes narrowing every time I mention Trevone.
He even gives me a nod of what might be approval when I tell him how I beat Tremore.
Then I tell him about the looks on everyone’s faces, the shock and my own surprise.
His expression grows more serious with every word, a musing tilt to his lips.
“Am I beginning the Shift?” I question, fidgeting with my fingers. “Do we need to get that other person you were talking about?”
“No, you’re not near a shift yet.” He assures me, moving away to pace even as he talks. “You’ve simply experienced a symptom – like we talked about. It’ll become more intense from here; fevers, mood swings, the need to exert Dominance, violence. You will begin to eat more than usual.”
I nod slowly. “How will I know when it’s time? What do I do when it is?”
“It’ll be unmistakable.” He murmurs, continuing his long strides. “A fever like no other, combined with the excruciating pain of every bone in your body beginning to break and reform to bring your Dragon into the world. It’ll feel like your very soul is on fire.”
The absolute terror that raced through my being set off waves of chills down my spine.
“That sounds horrible.” I croak.
He pauses, turning to study me.
I must have looked as scared as I felt since he sighed and moved to sit beside me, his fingers steepling in his lap.
“It is an experience like no other.” He admits softly. “But every shifter Fae experiences it – usually at a younger age, where they can more easily move on from it – but it is a natural transition. Like….. puberty.”
Oddly, his comparison between starting to get my period and beginning to shift was calming. At least a little.
“How long, do you think?” I murmur.
“At least four or so weeks. Maybe two months.” He muses. “I would have originally said longer, but it appears your beast is eager to join us. The timeline will increase now – my estimations may even be off.”
“Four weeks.” I mumble.
That wasn’t a lot of time. Learning what I need to about Fae culture and being a dragon would surely take longer than four weeks. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be stuck between managing a newly emerged alternate form and trying to absorb as much information about my own people as possible.
That sounded like an accident waiting to happen.
“Don’t be scared, Sinta. I’ve gotten the best possible help I can for you. They will do everything they can to prepare you and get you through the Shift.” He promises.
“I hope so.”
“Is there a roommate you trust enough to….. share this with?”
“Why?” I demand.
“Sinta, if you begin to Shift, you won’t be in the right mind to help yourself. You’ll barely be conscious.” He cautions. “If it happens in Rising House, its best that someone knows what is going on. Remember the consequences if we don’t do this right.”
I’ll be dead. The Shift will go wrong and I’ll die.
“I….. Maybe. I might trust a few of them.” Possibly, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure.
I’d barely spent a week with them, had only shared a few meals. That didn’t tell me if I could trust them with my life.
“While you do have a little bit of time to think on that, I wouldn’t leave it too long. Shifting Fever is one of the most unpredictable things in the world.”
I take in his warning with a firm nod.
“Good. I’ve worked out the schedule for your tutoring sessions. Relatively easy to do since we’ve decided on such a light course load, and I think this will work best for you – get you as prepared as you can be.” He hands me a piece of paper from his desk – a weekly schedule.
He'd added Tutoring sessions to Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday, and they only went for an hour or an hour and a half.
I imagine it wasn’t just my schedule he had to fit it into, but my tutor’s as well, so I was happy with the amount of sessions, even if they weren’t very long.
“It looks good.” I tell him, then notice there is nothing on Sunday. “Why not Sunday?”
“Your tutor has commitments on Sundays and cannot avoid them, sadly, so your Sundays will be free for now.”
“Having at least one rest day is nice.” I distractedly comment.
With my old high school schedule, working, and studying, I never had time to take a break.
Eating didn’t count. It was usually a fifteen-minute break where I had been walking somewhere or sitting on a bus headed to work.
I don’t think I’d even know what to do with myself for an entire day.
Read? Take a nap? Draw a little, maybe.
“It’s best that you do have a rest. We don’t want you getting stressed or burning out. It’ll make everything ten times harder for you – we’re trying to avoid that.” He asserts.
“Stress is bad, got it.” I quickly agree.
“Now, the male I’ve arranged to assist with your shift—”
He pauses as someone knocks on the door, tugging his suit sleeve down to reveal a very chunky Rolex. “Ah, that’ll be your tutor. Right on time.”
He stands and moves towards the door, pausing to glance back at me before he opens it. “I thought it best you two be introduced before we started the sessions.”
Opening the door before I could comment, he murmurs a greeting and shifts into a stiff, but surprisingly respectful bow.
The hairs on the back of my neck tingle, rising. My intuition screams at me, and my dragon shifts sluggishly as a leg clad in grey tartan slacks steps into view.
“Good afternoon, Mr Orichalcum.” Imelda greets warmly, the pleasant polite smile absent.
He murmurs the return greeting, and she moves further into the room, her head turning to take it in.
Her warm smile hitches when she sees me, her eyes tracking over my face and form with a flash of surprise.
I would have been offended, but I remembered that I likely still looked like a murder victim, and she’d probably assumed I’d gone straight to the healer after leaving class.
“Mr O.” Yelana drawls cheekily, sauntering inside.
She jerks to a halt when she spots me, her features brightening with delight. “Hah! I fucking knew it.” She crows, elbowing Imelda.
Imelda rolls her eyes and digs into her small purse, handing something back to Yelana.
I swear it looked like a folded $100 bill.
“Did they know I was a dragon shifter beforehand—”
“No, I didn’t tell them your name. I gave no personal information, in case her Highness,” He nods to Imelda. “Was unable to help, and therefore your identity would remain confidential. You were supposed to meet each other officially today.”
He gives me a quizzical look, obviously realising we had met before.
“We share classes. Both Fitness and Combat, plus Art.” I tell him as I stand from my chair with a wince.
Sitting had stiffened my injured ribs and leg, and my arm wasn’t much better.
“Sit down, Sinta, you’re hurt.” Imelda orders, moving over to me. “By the Gods, why aren’t you healed?”
“I thought you took the little one to the healer?” Yelana pipes up, grabbing my arm and forcefully settling me back into the chair.
I give them both an unamused look, but they ignore it.
“She was a trainee, and only had enough power to help Kenya. I can go back later.” I shrug them off and let my sore arm rest back in my lap. “How did you know?” I ask Yelana.
She pulls out the other chair and waits for Imelda to gracefully lower into it, then jumps up to sit on Mr Orichalcum’s desk.
He gives her a look but doesn’t say anything, retaking his own seat behind it.
“Honey, that fight in the Pit was all Dragon rage.” She laughs. “I mean, we should know. It’s not often you see a Dragon Shifter get that wound up, and the roar? If I didn’t spend so much time around Imelda, you could have knocked me on my ass.” She chuckles.
Imelda nods sagely, picking up my schedule. “Yes, it was quite the surprise. You are all the rage, now. Everyone wants to know who you are.”
Everything in me shrieked with panic.
“Don’t worry, we’re sworn to secrecy. First lesson on Dragon Fae – we hold Honour above all else. If we make a vow, we will die to defend it.” Yelana tells me.
“Or slaughter the threat. Whichever works.” Imelda murmurs. “I like the schedule, but I think we should add some Combat classes with Yelana. Trevone may be able to teach the basics, but soon your strength, speed, and abilities will increase. It’s best an experienced fighter help you, if that is alright?”
“You want me to fight you?” I splutter.
She smiles and giggles. “No, Sinta. You’re a good fighter, and I dare say you’ll be a force once you’ve shifted—”
“Fuck yeah, she will. She’ll be more Dominant than me.” Yelana grins.
“But I’m no combat instructor.” She says with a warning look at her friend. “Yelana has trained since infancy and is a master swordsman. She’ll be able to teach you all you need to know.”
“Sure can. We can set up some sessions on…..” Peeking at the sheet, she stares at it for a moment as she thinks.
Her face is so expressive it was like watching cogs moving behind her eyes, her brain visibly working.
“Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays?” She finally suggests. “Early Sunday, ‘cause I have other shit I have to do in the afternoon. We’ll do hour, maybe two-hour sessions so you don’t get overwhelmed.” She adds.
“That,” Clearing my throat, I take a moment to let my mind catch up and try to work through all of it. “Yes, that’s fine. Great, actually, if it’ll help.”
“Oh, it will.” She assures me with an enthusiastic nod.
“My brother Festos is the most Dominant Dragon Shifter currently attending the Academy.” Imelda says, placing the schedule carefully back on the desk where Yelana begins to scribble in the times for her combat tutoring. “But he’s attending family business at the moment. He’ll be back by next week, and it’ll be him that assists you through the Shift – with us on standby, for safety.”
“The Shift is that dangerous?” I question.
“For an infant, no. Their dragon isn’t yet big enough to cause major damage. For you?” She tilts her head back and forth. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“I already have money on you.” Yelana tells me.
“For what?”
“Kicking Festos’s ass, of course. You’re strong, girl. Who knows how much stronger you’ll be once you’ve shifted.” She muses.
“Yes, but first I need to see your scales.” Imelda says.
I stare at her for a moment, wary, and chance a glance at Mr Orichalcum.
“She’s here to help, Sinta.” He reassures me, his expression clam and encouraging. “She’s sworn no harm to you and sworn not to share your private business. You are safe.”
“You aren’t the first lone Dragon we’ve helped – though we’ve never shepherded them through the Fever.” Yelana admits. “But we’ll still do everything we can.”
“But why do you need to see my scales?” I question.
“It’ll help us to prepare for your dragon’s arrival.” Imelda calmly informs me. “For example, think of a pet lizard. They have enclosures, safe spaces, and each species has different needs. Some need extreme heat, some are more tropical, others are fine in a forestry habitat. Some need sand, others need grass and water. Our dragons are much the same; I myself sleep atop my jewellery to satisfy my dragon’s need to sleep on a hoard.”
“What?” I laugh.
“Oh yeah, she has special vault-like compartments built into the bottom of her bed, and she even has chunks of gold and uncut gems in there. We need certain things to regenerate our dragon’s powers.” Yelana explains. “Mine requires a pool of molten metals. I have to take a nap over a fire pit full of liquid gold just to keep my power levels up. It’s easier in Dragon form, I can just set a few gold bars on fire and sleep on them.”
“So my scales will tell you what my dragon needs to be comfortable and powerful?” I recap.
“Exactly.” Imelda nods. “It will also help us narrow down exactly what you need to be taught, instead of trying to teach you about the broad spectrum of dragon breeds. Much easier.”
“Right. But what if I’m not a normal dragon?” I ask.
“Every Dragon Breed that has ever been throughout history is recorded. We have a sort of…. Database, if you want to call it that. If Imelda and I aren’t immediately sure, we can essentially just google it.”
Right.
I glance at my Counsellor again.
He offers an encouraging nod.
Pulling in a deep breath, I watch Imelda’s face as I slowly tug off my loose shirt.
Leaving me in a black sports bra that did nothing at all to hide my Marks.
Her face goes slack, her purse landing on the floor with a thud.
“What,” Yelana gapes. “The fuck.”
I watch the Princess gather herself, breathing deep and visibly forcing herself to put away the shock and, I think, awe?
Clearing her throat, she reaches out and takes a hold of the hand attached to my non-injured arm, giving it a tight comforting squeeze.
“We are going to have to do a lot of research.” She mutters, but there’s a determined glint in her eyes. “Despite that, we will help you, Sinta. You’re a miracle.” She breathes.
“The last Green Dragon.” Yelana mumbles. “That’s more than a miracle. That’s a fucking twist of Fate, right there.”
Despite the pain I was still in, and my anxiety over the entire situation, I breathed easy for the first time in days.
I believed the Princess and her no-nonsense look. And Yelana too.
I was going to be okay.