31. Aurora
AURORA
What happened next happened at dinner that night after I had gone through the line and was about to sit down with Jorn-o, Toady, Bugs, and Leaper as usual. I had just placed the small bowl of Dragon Custard in the middle of the table as I always did when Ryse came over to me.
“Come on,” he said in a low voice. “You’re coming to sit at my table.”
“What? Why?” I looked up at him in confusion. I’d noticed that Chud Larson was no longer at his table, but I hadn’t seen the big bully anywhere else in the Mess Hall either, so I assumed he wasn’t an immediate threat.
“I told Larson he was out of my Wing and he wasn’t happy about it,” he said, frowning. “So you’re coming with me.”
“But I want to sit with my friends,” I protested. (The friends in question were all staring at us silently with wide eyes.)
“Too bad. You can sit with them later. Now come on.”
And then he took my tray right out of my hands and marched back to his table.
I had no choice but to follow him. With a helpless shrug to Jorn-o and the rest, I tagged along and sat awkwardly in the seat beside him, where he put my tray.
The other cadets at the table were all Second-years, of course.
I knew them because I had a class or two with almost every one, but none of them were more than acquaintances.
I was afraid they might feel resentment for me—a lowly First-year sitting at their table—and the looks that were directed at me, let me know I wasn’t wrong.
“What the fuck, Ryse?” one of the cadets asked, frowning at me. “What’s this runt doing at our table? Isn’t it bad enough we have to have him in all of our classes?”
There were some murmurs of agreement that made me want to sink under the table. However, Ryse glared at the cadet.
“This is Auri Lysandra—he’s in our Wing now, so he’s sitting at our table.”
I was in the North Wing? This was news to me! Apparently it was news to the others in Ryse’s Wing too.
“What the fuck, Wing Leader?” One of them demanded. “He doesn’t even have a dragon—how can he fly in our Wing?”
“Auri will ride with me until he bonds with a dragon,” Ryse said firmly.
“But the First-years haven’t even had their Impression Day yet!” Another Second-year protested. “What if he doesn’t get an egg?”
“Yeah—he looks too runty for any dragon to want him,” another muttered.
His words reminded me of what Professor Leesbruck had said and I felt my cheeks get hot with shame.
“You kicked out Larson and this is his replacement?” Another cadet chimed in. “At least Larson had a dragon!”
“Larson was riding a common Green that couldn’t flame further than five feet in front of her,” Ryse growled, glaring at them all.
“Auri is a Lysander. Look at his hair—his eyes. His bloodlines are strong—he won’t Impress less than a Gold-wing.
You’ll just have to be patient a little and let him catch up.
Until then, I take full responsibility for him and if anyone has a problem with that, they can leave North Wing right now. ”
This provoked a lot of muttering and angry looks—mostly directed at me—around the table. But no one got up and left or said they wanted out of the Wing and finally everyone settled down to eating again.
Everyone but me. The tension in the air was too thick and my stomach was tied in knots. I simply couldn’t eat.
Unfortunately, Ryse noticed.
“Lysandra, why aren’t you eating?” he demanded, frowning at my full tray.
“I just…I’m not hungry.” I shook my head. I wanted to say I never asked to be in his Wing, but I couldn’t confront him in front of the other Second-years. I would have to wait until later.
“Eat,” he urged me. “You’re too small and light—you need to gain some weight.”
“I’ve been trying,” I assured him in a low voice. “But tonight, my stomach is upset.”
His expression softened and he took the bowl of Dragon Custard off his own tray and put it in front of me.
“At least eat this. It will help settle your stomach and build you up.”
I wanted to protest but I could see he wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer. Also, I did love the sweet, golden custard and I’d never had more than a spoonful at a time, since I always shared with my friends. Still, I hesitated.
“Don’t you need to eat it?” I asked him. “You’re a dragon rider—I’m not…yet,” I added, though I was becoming more and more sure that I would never have a dragon of my own.
Ryse gave me a frown.
“You need it more than I do. Now eat.”
I picked up my spoon and did as he said, trying not to notice the way the Second-years at the table were looking at me. I must seem like Ryse’s little pet—no wonder they were mad that he’d thrown out a perfectly good rider and replaced him with someone who didn’t even have a dragon.
Also, his declaration that I would bond with nothing less than a Gold-wing made me nervous. What would they say when I failed? Ryse would be blamed—he might even lose his status as Wing Leader. I didn’t want all that to happen on my account.
I didn’t understand why he was being so protective of me, either. He was an upperclassman—a Wing Leader. Why should he care about a runty little First-year cadet?
Maybe his attitude had to do with his dragon’s feelings about me.
But that was strange too—why was a rare Midnight Gold-wing concerned with insignificant me?
Was it my bloodlines? But Professor Leesbruck had said that bloodlines didn’t matter—that every Great House sometimes produced a runt—a genetic throw-back who wasn’t fit to be a rider.
I had no answers to any of my questions and there was nothing I could do but eat the Dragon Custard slowly and wait for the Great Bell to toll in order to make my escape.