Chapter 8
FLORENCE
I was a coward. I knew it. My mother probably knew it, even if she’d never, ever in a million years dream of using the word. Even the fluffin sitting on my feet knew it.
I scratched Neville’s head, and the fluffin purred loudly, his entire little body rumbling with contentment.
For a moment, I envisioned becoming a fluffin, with all the sunbeams, snacks, and naps I could dream of.
But I wasn’t a fluffin. I wasn’t even me anymore.
I was something else now. Something new. A rider.
The word felt frightening, even said silently in my own head. It wasn’t my word. It wasn’t me. Rider was a word that belonged to Medra. To someone brave and bold and daring. Someone who wasn’t afraid of climbing onto a scaled monster who breathed fire.
Books belonged to me. Hot tea belonged to me.
Endless projects and extra-credit assignments belonged to me.
They were what I lived for. I was supposed to be a strategist. Or a healer.
Or preferably both. I’d live my days inside, very safely, in rooms full of books, studying ancient battles or testing new remedies.
Of course, I’d venture out to my garden or greenhouse from time to time.
Plants and books were far safer than a dragon. Anything was safer than a dragon.
I glanced across the room where my mother sat hunched over on a pink-and-green floral sofa, surrounded by a pile of books, nibbling on the tip of a quill. Her cup of tea rested on a small table, still full. Completely cold, of course. I looked at my own cup—also cold, but only half-full.
I had three books open in front of me and a quill in my hand. I was supposed to be writing an essay for Professor Allenvale’s class, extra credit to make up for the fact that I hadn’t actually attended any classes since … since it had happened.
I’d made my mother bring notes to my professors, notes in which I’d lied and said I was ill. It was childish and immature and silly. But knowing that hadn’t stopped me.
Only Professor Rodriguez knew what had really happened. And Kage. Thankfully, my House Leader hadn’t pressed me to come back to the Avari tower; he’d left me alone.
But I knew he would come eventually. I couldn’t stay hidden away in my mother’s suite of rooms forever. I’d have to return to class soon, unless I wanted to flunk out of Bloodwing entirely. And considering the possible consequences, that wasn’t an option.
I leaned forward to ruffle Neville’s fur again, and the fluffin lifted his head, opened one eye, and peered at me. He’d been a faithful companion since the incident in the Dragon Court.
If I were to ever write a murder mystery, that’s what I’d call it, I decided: The Incident in the Dragon Court. It had a nice ring to it. There would be no actual dragons in said book, only murders. Even murders were safer than dragons.
I flinched suddenly as a sensation hit me.
A scent. Fresh fish, filling my nose. I supposed I should be grateful it wasn’t filling my mouth.
I wrinkled my nose, but there was nothing I could do.
I hadn’t been able to block Nyxaris out.
Not completely. He’d reached out to me once.
I’d ignored him. Pretended I couldn’t hear him.
He hadn’t tried again since that first time.
He hadn’t needed to. Because I could feel him there always, sense him even without trying.
Even if he wasn’t trying to speak to me, I knew where he was.
Knew when he was flying over the island, when he was curling up for the night on a ledge on the cliffs above the sea.
I could even sense emotions sometimes. Right now, he was content; the fish were delicious.
I might have simply gone on with my life.
Pretended Nyxaris was something akin to a dog.
But he wasn’t a dog. He wasn’t a mindless beast. He was intelligent.
I knew he wouldn’t wait forever. I pursed my lips stubbornly.
But he’d have to. I wasn’t going to be his rider.
I wasn’t going to be his in any way. I certainly wasn’t going to fly on his back at a dreadfully great height without even a saddle or reins to hang onto. I. Just.Wasn’t.
“I told you Medra came by to see you last night,” my mother murmured absent-mindedly, without looking up from her books. “Didn’t I?”
“This is the third time you’ve mentioned it,” I answered, a little peevishly.
“Oh, is it?” My mother smiled down at her book as if relieved. “Good. I was worried I’d forgotten.” She lifted her head to look at me and sighed. “She misses you, Florence. You know you—”
“I’m in the middle of an essay.” I made my voice chill in a way I hated. “Can we talk about this later?”
Her face fell. “Of course.”
The silence resumed, but it was no longer a comfortable one.
I was being awful. I knew that. Not only to my mother but also to Medra.
But I didn’t know what else to do. No one had asked me if I wanted to be pulled back from the brink of death.
No one had given me any choice about it.
They’d done their ritual and bound me to a dragon, without even thinking about what that would mean for me exactly.
Nyxaris was flying over the island now. I could feel him, practically hear his wings flapping.
Sometimes when I lay in bed at night, the knowledge of where he was and what he was doing would keep me awake, trapped by this creature now in my head—probably forever, sharing my personal space.
After all, if I could sense this much about him, what did he sense about me and my life?
What could he hear? Smell? Taste? A dragon’s senses were probably even better than mine.
I knew I was being unfair, even ridiculous. But when I lay there sleepless, all I could think about was how this had all happened because of Medra. If I hadn’t gone after her to the Dragon Court, if I hadn’t run forward to try to save her life. Which, I suppose, I had done rather successfully.
If she hadn’t tried to save me. If I hadn’t met her.
I snapped my book shut. I hadn’t really been reading it anyway. Neville leaped to his feet and barked loudly.
“Hmm?” My mother looked up. “I supposed it is getting late.”
“I’m going out for a walk,” I announced. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
“But it’s a school night …” She trailed off, then smiled. “Very well. I suppose I don’t know when you go to sleep when you’re back in your own room in the House Avari tower, so I shouldn’t worry so much about when you go to sleep here. You’ve always been very capable of managing your own affairs.”
I took a deep breath, resisting the urge to tell her how wrong she was. “Thank you, Mother. I’ll be back soon.”
“Just …” She bit her lip. “Be careful, Florence. With the new headmistress …”
I nodded, knowing what she meant.
She gathered up her things, dumped out her teacup and left it on the counter in the kitchen, then carried a stack of three books to her bedroom.
When she was gone, I reached for a cloak hanging near the door and quickly left the apartment.
She didn’t need to know that I hadn’t meant a walk in the halls.
What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, I told myself.
For instance, she didn’t know exactly how my life had been saved.
Or if she had, she hadn’t mentioned it, not once.
Not a peep about dragons. I assumed Rodriguez had only told her the bare minimum.
That he had saved me—and that Medra had something to do with it.
Otherwise, maybe she wouldn’t be so grateful to them both.
I closed the door to the suite softly and looked down. Neville had followed me out into the hall.
“Fine, but you’d better be quiet,” I hissed. He lolled his tongue out in response, panting happily.
I followed the pull I was feeling. Down the hall, down another hall, down endless halls.
All full of stone pillars and frost-covered windows.
Through the school towards the door that led out onto the hills.
I caught my breath at the chill in the air.
The sun had set, but the moon was up. It was easy to make my way down the path towards the greenhouse, then past that to a rocky path that led around the edge of the island, where the cliffs rose higher, rocks climbing towards the sky.
Why was I doing this? Why had I come? Because I couldn’t go another minute hiding inside when it felt as if my heart was being dragged out of my body by something vast and terrible. It wasn’t a good reason. It was probably a very bad one. Yet here I was.
My footsteps slowed. Neville was still at my heels; he’d been impressively quiet. Something shifted on the rocks at the edge of the cliffs, and I froze. A silhouette rose up against the stars. Nyxaris.
The dragon pushed himself upwards, perching on the edge of the cliff, stretching out the massive wings that had been furled at his sides. Black scales caught the moonlight, shimmering like obsidian glass. My breath caught in my throat. He looked beautiful. Ancient. Lonely. Regal.
Completely terrifying.
My instincts screamed at me to run, but I stayed where I was, hidden behind a crag, watching the dragon who had saved my life. My heart pounded—and yet it shouldn’t have, because I knew I would never move past this rock. I would never go to him. I would never be enough.
Medra hadn’t even been fully bonded to Nyxaris.
She’d been able to speak to him mind to mind, but she hadn’t been able to sense him, not like I did now.
Even so, she’d spoken to him, flown on him, fought from his back.
But she was fire and fury. And I was … a trembling girl hiding in the dark, wishing she could stay hidden inside a book forever.
Well, I’d had the glimpse I wanted. I’d come closer than I probably ever would again. And I’d gotten away with it. I hadn’t been caught. The fresh air was good for me, too, I reminded myself. I turned to go, my boots moving over the pebbled pathway.