Chapter sixteen- Borrowed Cloth
Liora woke to the sound of claws scraping stone.
Ashwing was pacing again; she could hear the rhythm of it through the window, steady and anxious, like he had spent the entire night guarding the courtyard.
She sat up slowly, every muscle aching from combat training, every thought heavy from the day before.
The sunlight spilling across her bed felt too bright, too indifferent.
She dressed quietly, trying not to wake Seris, though the girl was already awake, pretending not to watch her.
Liora ignored her and slipped out of the room.
The moment she stepped outside, Ashwing rushed to her, pressing his snout against her stomach with a soft, desperate rumble. His wings twitched, his tail wrapped around her calf, and he breathed her in like he needed proof she was still alive.
"I'm here," she whispered, stroking his scales. "I'm okay."
He didn't believe her, and she didn't blame him.
Mira approached from a distance, careful not to get too close.
She lifted a hand in greeting, her smile warm but her posture stiff — not because of Liora, but because Aiden was walking beside her.
Mira wasn't used to royals, to their presence, their confidence, their effortless authority.
She kept glancing at Aiden, then away, then back again, like she wasn't sure she was allowed to breathe near him.
"Morning," Mira said. "You look... better."
Liora didn't, but she appreciated the attempt.
"You survived yesterday," Aiden said with a lazy grin, hands in his pockets, eyes flicking over her with a warmth that made her stomach twist. "Barely. But still counts."
Liora huffed a weak laugh. "I'm not sure the instructor agrees."
"She doesn't agree with anything," Aiden said. "Except yelling."
"She yells a lot," Mira added quickly. "Yes. Very... loudly."
Aiden raised a brow at her. "You don't have to look like you're afraid to speak around me."
"I—I'm not afraid," Mira stammered. "I just— You're— You're Aiden."
"I've been Aiden for a while now," he said.
"That's not what I meant," Mira muttered, flushing scarlet.
Liora bit back a smile. Mira wasn't shy or timid, but standing next to a royal scrambled her entire personality.
"Relax," Aiden said, softening his voice. "I'm not going to bite."
Ashwing growled, low and warning.
"He might, though," Aiden added under his breath.
"He really doesn't like anyone near you," Mira whispered.
"He's protective," Liora said.
"He's terrifying," Mira corrected.
"Terrifying is good," Aiden said, leaning slightly closer — not too close, because Ashwing was watching. "Means he cares."
Ashwing growled again, louder this time.
"Alright, alright. I'll stop," Aiden said, stepping back.
They started walking toward the main hall, Mira keeping a respectful distance from Ashwing and an even more respectful distance from Aiden.
She didn't speak much — not because she didn't want to, but because she was clearly terrified of saying the wrong thing in front of someone with a royal crest pinned to his collar.
Halfway there, Mira stopped abruptly and dug into her bag, pulling out a folded bundle of dark fabric.
"Oh—Liora, wait," she said. "I almost forgot. You need a rider's uniform for today."
Liora froze. She had forgotten — or maybe she had been trying not to think about it.
The uniforms were expensive, tailored, reinforced, enchanted.
Every first?year was expected to buy one within the first week.
Liora had barely scraped together enough money for her travel here. She had nothing left.
"Hey," Mira said softly, seeing the panic flicker across her face. "Don't worry. I brought my old one."
"Mira, I can't—" Liora began.
"Yes, you can," Mira said firmly. "It's clean, it fits close enough, and I'm not using it anymore. Take it."
Liora hesitated, staring at the folded uniform. It felt like accepting charity. It felt like admitting she didn't belong here. It felt like another reminder of everything she lacked.
"Liora, everyone borrows uniforms their first year," Aiden said, stepping a little closer, his voice gentler. "It's not a big deal."
"It is to me," she whispered.
"Then think of it as a loan," he said. "You'll give it back when you're ready."
"Exactly," Mira said quickly. "And if anyone says anything, I'll—" She stopped herself, glancing at Aiden. "I'll politely correct them."
"That's the gentlest threat I've ever heard," Aiden said.
"It wasn't a threat," Mira protested.
"It barely counted," he said.
Ashwing snapped his jaws in warning.
"Okay! Message received," Aiden said, jumping back.
Liora laughed — a small, fragile sound, but real. She took the uniform slowly, holding it against her chest. The fabric was worn in places, the stitching slightly frayed, but it was still beautiful. Still official. Still something she needed.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Of course," Mira said, smiling with relief.
"It'll look good on you," Aiden added, eyes warm.
Ashwing growled immediately.
"Alright, alright. Compliment withdrawn," Aiden said, lifting his hands.
"He's flirting with you," Mira whispered, leaning closer to Liora.
"He's not," Liora said, nearly tripping.
"I'm right here, you know," Aiden said.
Mira squeaked and looked away.
"And so is he," Aiden added, nodding at Ashwing as the dragon growled again.
Liora couldn't help smiling. For a moment — just a moment — the weight on her chest felt lighter. But the Academy loomed ahead of them, tall and cold and full of eyes that watched her like she was a problem waiting to happen. And Liora knew the day wasn't done testing her yet.
She slipped into her dorm room with the uniform pressed tightly against her chest. Seris wasn't there — thank the gods — and for a moment, the room felt almost peaceful.
She closed the door quietly and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.
The uniform felt heavier than it should.
Not physically — emotionally. Borrowed. Worn. Not hers. But she needed it.
She unfolded it carefully on her bed. The fabric was dark, reinforced with subtle stitching that shimmered faintly under the light.
It was beautiful in its own way — practical, structured, unmistakably official.
She ran her fingers over the seams, tracing the places where Mira had patched it.
Tiny stitches, careful and neat. Mira's hands had done this.
Mira had worn this. Mira had trusted her with it.
Liora swallowed hard and changed quickly, slipping into the uniform piece by piece.
The jacket hugged her shoulders snugly. The trousers fit better than she expected.
The boots were slightly loose, but manageable.
When she finally looked in the mirror, she froze.
She looked like a rider. Not a perfect one. Not a confident one. But a real one.
"Liora? Can we come in?" Mira's voice came through the door.
"Yeah," Liora said, pulling in a breath.
Mira stepped inside and then straightened like a soldier when she noticed Aiden behind her. She clasped her hands in front of her, posture stiff, eyes lowered.
"Oh gods," Mira breathed. "You look... really good."
Aiden leaned casually against the wall, his gaze sweeping over Liora in the uniform — not in a crude way, but in a way that made her heart skip. "It suits you," he said.
"It's Mira's old one," Liora said, heat creeping into her cheeks.
"And?" Aiden said. "You make it look better."
"He's definitely flirting with you," Mira whispered, leaning toward Liora.
"He's not," Liora muttered.
"I'm right here, you know," Aiden said.
Before Liora could answer, the door swung open without warning. Seris stood there, her gaze sweeping over Liora from head to toe — the borrowed uniform, the frayed seams, the patches, the boots that weren't quite the right size. A slow, poisonous smile spread across her face.
"How... precious," Seris said.
Liora stiffened as Seris stepped inside without being invited, circling her like a vulture. "Wearing someone else's uniform? How very... resourceful of you."
"It's perfectly fine," Mira said, hands curling into fists. "Lots of people—"
"Lots of people don't," Seris cut in, eyes never leaving Liora. "But I suppose when you don't have the coin, you make do."
"Seris. Enough," Aiden said, his expression darkening.
She ignored him and reached out as if to touch the sleeve. Liora jerked back instinctively.
"Relax," Seris said. "I'm not going to tear it. Though honestly, it looks like someone already did."
"I said enough," Aiden repeated, stepping between them.
Seris's eyes flicked to the royal crest on his collar, and for a moment her expression cracked. Then she smoothed her hair, lifted her chin, and forced a brittle smile.
"Enjoy your hand?me?downs," she said. "I'm sure they'll look lovely when you're cleaning stables after you fail out."
She turned and left, the door slamming behind her.
"She's awful," Mira said, exhaling shakily.
Liora stared at the door, her chest tight. The uniform suddenly felt heavier again. Too heavy.
"Liora... don't listen to her," Mira said softly.
"She's cruel because she can be," Aiden said. "That's all."
"She's right, though," Liora said. "It's not even mine."
"It doesn't matter whose it was," Aiden said, his gaze softening. "It matters who's wearing it now."
Liora didn't know what to say. But she breathed, and the room steadied, and the uniform didn't feel quite as heavy with Mira and Aiden standing beside her.
She stepped out of the dormitory, the morning air cool against her skin.
The borrowed uniform felt stiff and unfamiliar, as if it belonged to someone steadier, someone who didn't flinch at every shadow of doubt.
Ashwing lifted his head the moment she crossed the barrier.
He froze, golden eyes widening as he took in the sight of her.
Then he approached slowly, sniffing the air around her, wings twitching with uncertainty.
He didn't understand the uniform, but he understood change, and he didn't like anything that made her feel different.
"It's still me," Liora said, placing a hand on his snout.
Ashwing rumbled softly and pressed his forehead against her shoulder, staying close as if trying to memorize this new version of her.
"He's... adjusting," Mira said from behind, keeping a careful distance from the dragon.
"He'll get used to it," Aiden said, hands in his pockets, eyes lingering on Liora a little too long.
Liora wasn't sure she would get used to it herself.
They walked toward the training grounds together — Mira quiet and stiff, Aiden relaxed and annoyingly confident, Ashwing pacing beside Liora like a shadow.
The Academy courtyard buzzed with noise.
First?years gathered in clusters, adjusting their uniforms, tightening straps, whispering anxiously.
Dragons waited outside the aerial ring, some restless, some bored, some watching their riders with predatory interest. Liora swallowed hard.
She didn't belong here. Not in this uniform. Not among these people.
"Don't overthink it," Aiden said, nudging her shoulder lightly.
"I'm not," Liora said.
"You are," he replied, softer. "But it's fine. Everyone does."
"I almost fainted before my first precision drill," Mira blurted.
"You what?" Aiden said, staring at her.
"Nothing," Mira said quickly. "Forget I said anything."
Before he could tease her, Instructor Vale strode into the ring like a storm given human form. Her voice cut through the courtyard like a blade.
"Form up!"
Everyone scrambled into lines. Liora stood between Mira and Aiden, Ashwing waiting outside the ring, tail flicking anxiously.
Vale's eyes swept over the group — sharp, assessing, merciless.
When she reached Liora, she paused. Her gaze flicked to the uniform, to the frayed seams, to the patches, to the boots that didn't quite fit. Heat crawled up Liora's neck.
"Yes, Instructor," Liora said, forcing her voice steady.
Vale moved on, but the damage was done. A few students snickered. Seris smirked openly. Aiden shot Seris a warning look. Mira stared at the ground. Liora stared straight ahead.
"Today we begin Threadline Maneuvers," Vale said, clapping her hands once.
A ripple of dread passed through the group. Threadlines were infamous — low altitude, tight turns, perfect timing. One mistake and you clipped another dragon's wing or crashed.
"If you cannot maintain formation at low altitude," Vale continued, "you will not survive high?altitude combat. Today, we test your precision."
"We're dead," someone whispered.
"Correct," Vale said without looking up.
When Vale ordered them to pair with their dragons, Liora stepped toward Ashwing, but he was already moving toward her, lowering his head, wings tucked tight, posture protective. Vale watched him with a raised brow.
"That one is... attached," Vale said.
"He's just—" Liora started.
"Overprotective," Vale finished. "You'll need to fix that."
Vale moved on before Liora could respond.
The drills began, and chaos erupted. Dragons swooped too low.
Students overcorrected. Wings clipped the air with dangerous force.
Vale barked corrections like a general leading an army of terrified recruits.
Liora tried to follow instructions — tight turns, steady breathing, no hesitation — but the uniform pulled at her shoulders, the boots slipped, and Ashwing kept adjusting his flight to compensate for her imbalance.
"Liora!" Vale shouted. "Your dragon is correcting for you. Stop relying on him!"
"I'm not—" Liora started.
"You are!" Vale snapped.
Ashwing growled at Vale. Vale growled right back. Aiden choked on a laugh. Mira elbowed him, then immediately apologized for elbowing a royal. Liora wanted to sink into the ground.
She tried again. And again. And again.
Ashwing finally matched the Threadline pattern, but only after she whispered something soft and private into his scales, something no one else heard. Vale watched with narrowed eyes.
"Better," Vale said. "Barely."
Liora exhaled shakily — and that was when she felt it. A gaze. Cold. Sharp. Unblinking.
She turned her head slightly and saw Kael standing at the far end of the training grounds, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He wasn't close enough to hear anything. He wasn't close enough to interfere. He wasn't even part of this session. But he was watching her.
He watched the borrowed uniform. He watched her struggle.
He watched Ashwing's protectiveness. He watched everything.
His presence felt like a weight pressing against her ribs, a silent reminder that he saw all of it — her effort, her fear, her failures, and the dragon who refused to leave her side.
Aiden noticed him too; his jaw tightened as he followed Liora's line of sight. Mira glanced up, saw Kael, and immediately looked down at her boots, pretending she hadn't seen anything.
Liora tried to focus on the drill, but her heartbeat stuttered under the intensity of Kael's stare. She didn't understand why he was watching her or what he expected from her, but the knowledge that he was there made her chest tighten with something sharp and confusing.
Kael's eyes flicked to Ashwing for a brief moment, as if measuring the dragon's tension, then returned to Liora with the same cold precision. Without a word, he turned and walked away, disappearing behind the stone archway as silently as he had appeared.
"Unbelievable," Aiden muttered.
Liora didn't answer. Her pulse was still racing, and she didn't know whether it was fear, anger, or something far more complicated.