Chapter 19 Afterthought #2
“And here I thought you were this rebellious princess, different from everyone else,” he said, a thread of sarcasm woven into his tone.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I challenged him, finally turning to face him as I leaned against the glass guardrail.
“You’re annoyingly verbal and incredibly impulsive,” he said, “but you’re also brave and valiant. What you did today proved you deserve Dragontail.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?” I asked, unable to stop the smile that crept onto my face.
Lorik was trying to make me laugh, to pull me, even for a moment, out of what I’d seen and felt and even though I didn’t want to give him credit, it was working.
Laughter and deflection had always been my way out of sadness and fear, and for the first time that night, the weight in my chest eased, just a little.
“If you learn to control your emotions in combat, you’ll improve and you’ll likely pass your trials. But you have to practice,” Lorik said, his expression stripped of any room for humor this time.
“And why would you care?” I challenged him. “You and Rory Rey made it very clear you’d rather see me beaten to death. You showed it to me on this very terrace the way you clenched your fist, practically excited to watch your girlfriend kick my ass.”
“That is not what happened, princess,” he said evenly. “And deep down you know it. I can train you.”
“No, thank you,” I replied with a smile as I stepped away from the guardrail. “Your friend Ugo happens to be an excellent teacher and an actually decent person, which makes it hard to understand how the two of you are friends. So no, I’ll pass and stick with him.”
I could tell he was enjoying the wordplay, enjoying the push and pull I had started, and a small, dangerous part of me liked it too but I wasn’t about to fall prey to whatever game he thought he was playing.
Lorik Draventh was an enemy of my bloodline, even if this conversation momentarily made it easy to forget.
“Good luck with that,” Lorik said, a grin tugging at his mouth. “But I’m still your counselor, not him and you weren’t granted the swap you requested.”
I rolled my eyes because he was right. Professor Hog hadn’t approved the swap when I’d requested it after our unwanted forest encounter, but that hadn’t stopped me from training with Ugo anyway.
A long silence stretched between us. I just glanced at it without sarcasm, without insults, games or jokes, and I asked:
“Why did you ask Ugo not to aim at the dragon?” I asked him, my gaze fixed on him, asking for honesty without words.
Lorik opened his mouth, then closed it.
“I think dragons are slaves of those parasites. They are bound by force; they don’t deserve death,” he finally said, and I knew he meant it.
“Many would disagree with you, Moonveil.”
“What does the rebel princess think about that?” Lorik asked, with an edge of curiosity, as if he deep down knew what I was going to say.
The green eyes of the crimson dragon came to me again. I saw sadness in them, perhaps regret.
“Perhaps they are victims of the wildweavers too,” I admitted after a short silence. “Good night, Moonveil,” I said, walking backward as our gazes locked for a beat too long to be accidental.
“Good night, Princess.”
As soon as I reached my room, I changed into my pajamas and slipped into bed, already knowing that sleep would not come easily tonight, that nightmares would stalk me the moment I let my guard down.
I lay there for a long while after Soehl extinguished the last of the candles, staring at the ceiling, listening to my own breathing until exhaustion finally dragged me under.
And then, one of the vivid dreams I had come to dread, claimed me completely.
I stood on a cliff above the ocean. It was daylight, and cold, far colder, than it should have been, and though I knew I was dreaming, my body shivered as if the chill were real.
I tried to summon my fire magic to warm myself, but nothing answered; the air remained dry and biting, untouched by flame.
Above me, the sky burned in layered hues of blue, violet, and orange as the sun sank toward the horizon, far below, the sea churned in a deep, endless blue.
Something moved at the edge of the sky, distant and small. At first, I thought it was a bird, but it grew larger as it flew closer, its shape sharpening with every heartbeat, until I knew, long before it reached me, that it was far too large to be anything so simple.
The creature moved with ease and grace, and when it came within yards of me, recognition settled with quiet certainty.
A dragon was flying straight toward me. Its scales were bright and flat, its horns short and black, and from its coloring alone I knew it was an ice dragon.
It was smaller than the crimson magma dragon I had seen beyond the Veil.
Perhaps younger, perhaps simply different.
It was not commanded.
Not bound.
Not a wildweaver’s puppet.
It came for me alone.
It flew straight toward the cliff, and still I didn’t move.
My heart stuttered once, then steadied, and I realized with a strange, unsettling clarity that I wasn’t afraid, not truly.
Awe filled the space where terror should have been, a quiet reverence that rooted me in place as I watched it descend.
The dragon landed before me, wings folding neatly against its sides. And then, almost carefully, it stepped back, as if giving me room. Even so, it towered over me.
Its eyes were blue, clear, and ancient, and when they locked onto mine, the world seemed to still.
We remained like that for what felt like minutes, suspended in silence. Then the dragon lowered its head.
I hesitated only a moment before my hand lifted on its own, fingers brushing the cool, clean scales near its horns. The dragon growled but the sound was warm, almost amused, more laughter than warning.
I jerked my hand back.
I gasped awake.
No scream this time.
I was back in my bed, staring at the ceiling, my body rigid, my breath shallow. I didn’t move. I didn’t even blink for a long moment.
I had never dreamed of dragons before, and going beyond the Veil had unlocked something new, something more profound than fear.