Chapter seven- the dining hall
Liora's legs still trembled as she crossed the courtyard, each step a reminder of how many times she had slipped, stumbled, or nearly fallen during training.
Her thighs burned from gripping Ashwing's saddle, her arms ached from trying to steady herself, and her palms were raw where the leather had rubbed her skin.
But the physical exhaustion was nothing compared to the storm inside her chest. She had failed.
Again. Ashwing walked beside her, his silver scales catching the last light of the setting sun.
He moved slowly, matching her pace, his tail brushing her leg every few steps as if to steady her.
His presence should have comforted her. It usually did.
But tonight, even his warmth couldn't quiet the voice in her head telling her she still couldn't fly, that she was going to fail the Trial, that she was going to disappoint him.
Ashwing chirped softly and lowered his head to nudge her shoulder. Liora forced a small smile and stroked the ridge above his eye.
"I'm okay," she whispered.
It was a lie, and Ashwing knew it. His pupils narrowed, and he let out a low, worried rumble.
They reached the entrance to the dining hall—a pair of tall wooden doors carved with swirling patterns.
The doorway was wide enough for two people to walk through side by side, but nowhere near large enough for a dragon.
Ashwing stopped abruptly, claws scraping the stone as he tried to follow her.
"Hey," Liora murmured, turning back to him. "You can't come in."
Ashwing lowered his massive head until his snout nearly touched her chest. His breath warmed her skin. Students passing by slowed to stare—some in awe, some in fear, some with thinly veiled annoyance at the dragon blocking the entrance. Liora placed both hands on Ashwing's jaw.
"I'll be quick. I promise."
He let out a soft, mournful sound that made her chest tighten. His silver eyes followed her every movement as she stepped backward toward the doors.
"I'll come right back," she whispered.
Ashwing's wings twitched, and he pressed his forehead gently against her shoulder one last time before sitting back on his haunches, watching her with an intensity that made her throat ache.
Liora took a breath and stepped inside. The doors closed behind her with a heavy thud, cutting her off from the only creature who made her feel safe.
Heat washed over her immediately, thick with the scent of roasted meats glazed in honey, spiced vegetables, and freshly baked bread.
The dining hall was enormous—larger than any building she had ever seen—with vaulted ceilings carved from pale stone and chandeliers dripping with golden light.
Long tables stretched across the room, each one overflowing with silver platters piled high with food.
Students filled every corner, their voices rising in a chaotic symphony of laughter, chatter, and clattering plates.
The air buzzed with energy, warmth, and familiarity. Liora felt none of it.
She stood frozen near the entrance, her heart pounding. Her clothes were still dusty from training, her hair tangled from the wind, her hands raw and red. She felt small. Out of place. Wrong. She forced herself to move, but as she walked between the tables, whispers followed her like shadows.
"That's her."
"The wild girl."
"She looks like she hasn't bathed."
"She's the one with the silver dragon."
"She doesn't belong here."
Liora kept her gaze fixed on the floor, her throat tight.
She scanned the tables for an empty seat, but every time she approached one, students shifted away or pretended not to see her.
Her exhaustion made everything worse. Her legs felt heavy, her arms weak, her mind foggy.
She could still feel the moment she had slipped off Ashwing's back, the panic that had surged through her as the ground rushed up to meet her—only for Aiden to catch her arm at the last second.
"You're gripping too hard," he had said gently. "You're fighting him instead of moving with him."
She had tried. Gods, she had tried. But every time Ashwing crouched to launch into the air, her heart seized. Her breath caught. Her body locked up. She wasn't ready. She wasn't good enough. And the Trial was coming.
She swallowed hard and approached a table near the center where a group of first?years were laughing loudly. They looked friendly enough—young, relaxed, smiling.
"Hi," she said softly. "Is this seat—"
A girl with perfect curls looked up, her expression twisting instantly. "Oh," she said, voice dripping with disdain. "It's you."
Liora blinked. "I just wanted to know if—"
"This table is for Riders," the girl snapped. "Not stable girls."
Liora's stomach dropped. "I'm not—"
Another girl leaned forward, smirking. "Are you sure? Because you look like you slept in the stables."
Laughter erupted around the table. Heat rushed to Liora's cheeks. She stepped back, gripping the strap of her bag.
"I didn't mean to—"
"We don't care what you meant," the first girl said sharply. "Go sit somewhere else."
Liora nodded quickly, blinking hard. She turned away, her vision blurring. She tried another table. And another. And another. Everywhere she went, she heard the same things:
"She's filthy."
"She's not one of us."
"She's going to embarrass the Academy."
"She should go back to wherever she came from."
Her chest tightened painfully. She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing Ashwing were here. Wishing she could run back to him. Wishing she had never stepped inside this hall.
She was about to leave when a voice cut through the noise.
"Liora?"
She froze. Aiden stood near the entrance, a tray in his hands, his hazel eyes warm and concerned.
His uniform was immaculate, his hair slightly tousled from training, and he looked—gods—he looked like he belonged here.
Like he was born for this place. He walked toward her, weaving through the tables with easy confidence.
"What happened?" he asked softly.
Liora shook her head. "Nothing. I just... I can't find a place to sit."
Aiden's jaw tightened. He glanced around the hall, taking in the stares, the whispers, the way students shifted away from her. Then he set his tray down on the nearest empty table and turned back to her.
"Sit with me."
Liora blinked. "What?"
Aiden smiled gently. "Sit with me."
"But—"
"No buts," he said, voice firm but warm. "You're with me."
He guided her to the table, pulling out a chair for her. The hall grew quieter as students noticed. Heads turned. Whispers rose.
"Is he serious?"
"He's sitting with her?"
"But he's—"
"He's royalty."
"He's choosing her?"
Liora's heart pounded. She sat down slowly, her hands trembling. Aiden took the seat beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his arm. He placed a piece of bread on her plate.
"You need to eat. Training takes a lot out of you."
Liora stared at the food, overwhelmed. "Aiden... you don't have to do this."
"I know," he said softly. "I want to."
Her breath caught. Around them, the hall buzzed with shock. Students stared openly now, some whispering urgently, others glaring. A few nobles looked furious. But Aiden ignored them all, focusing only on her.
"Try the roasted chicken," he said, nudging the platter toward her. "It's the best thing they make."
Liora hesitated, then took a small piece. The flavor exploded on her tongue—rich, savory, unlike anything she had ever tasted.
Aiden grinned. "Good, right?"
She nodded, unable to speak.
They ate together in a bubble of warmth and quiet conversation.
Aiden asked about her morning, about Ashwing, about how she was feeling.
He listened—really listened—his eyes soft and attentive.
And that was when the fear hit her again.
The fear of flying. The fear of failing. The fear of disappointing Ashwing.
"I still can't fly," she whispered.
Aiden's expression softened. "You will."
"What if I don't?" she asked. "What if I fall? What if I fail the Trial? What if Ashwing gets taken away because of me?"
Aiden reached out and gently touched her wrist. "Liora... you're stronger than you think."
She shook her head. "I'm terrified."
"I know," he said. "Everyone is, their first time."
"Even you?"
Aiden smiled faintly. "Especially me."
Liora stared at him, surprised.
"Fear doesn't mean you're weak," he said. "It means you understand the risk. And that makes you a better rider than half the people in this room."
Her chest tightened.
They finished their meal together, Aiden talking and laughing, Liora slowly relaxing, the hall buzzing with disbelief. But she could feel it—a presence, cold and sharp, watching. She looked up.
Kael stood at the far end of the hall, his storm?gray eyes fixed on her. He didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't look away. He simply watched. Aiden followed her gaze and sighed.
"Ignore him."
But Liora couldn't. Kael's stare was unreadable—anger, curiosity, calculation, something darker she couldn't name.
He stood there like a shadow carved from stone, silent and still, yet somehow more dangerous than the entire hall combined.
Eventually, Kael turned away, disappearing into the crowd.
But the memory of his gaze lingered like a cold hand on her spine.
Outside, the night air was cool against her skin.
The doors closed behind them, muffling the noise of the hall.
Ashwing was waiting. The moment he saw her, he surged forward, lowering his head until his snout pressed against her chest. Liora buried her hands in his warm scales, relief flooding through her.
Aiden watched them with a soft smile. "He really cares about you."
Liora nodded, her throat tight. "I don't deserve him."
"Yes," Aiden said quietly. "You do."
Ashwing lifted his head, his gold eyes flicking between Liora and Aiden. He huffed, as if assessing him.
Aiden laughed. "I think he's judging me."
"He judges everyone," Liora said, smiling for the first time that day.
Aiden stepped closer. "Liora... if you ever feel alone in there—"
She looked up at him.
"You're not," he said softly.
Her heart fluttered. Ashwing nudged her again, protective and possessive. Aiden stepped back, hands raised.
"Alright, alright. I'll let you two get some rest."
He gave her one last warm smile before turning toward the dormitories. Liora watched him go, her chest full and aching. Ashwing lowered himself so she could climb onto his back. She leaned against his warm scales, exhaustion washing over her.
As they walked back to the roosts, she whispered, "I'll try again tomorrow. I promise."
Ashwing rumbled softly, as if he already knew.