How Not To Fall For A Dragon
Chapter 54 54- Do Not Play With Anything That Shimmers Suspiciously
LEXI
We have barely made it back to the dance floor when the music suddenly drops to almost nothing. It isn’t gradual. It just… Stops. People who were dancing slow awkwardly, then peel away toward the edges of the courtyard like they’ve been caught doing something illegal. Others freeze mid–step, arms half- raised, bodies locked in place like badly posed statues. The effect is so abrupt it’s almost comical. Then an unnaturally loud voice echoes through the courtyard, flat and monotone, calling for everyone to be quiet and pay attention. Some kind of amplification magic, I guess. Because there is no way that voice should carry that far otherwise. The voice belongs to the Basic Spellcasting professor. The one who looks like he’s approximately a million years old and might crumble into dust if someone sneezed too close to him. I feel a brief stab of guilt when I realise that, for the life of me, I cannot remember his
name.
“Blake… What’s that professor’s name?” I hiss under my breath, leaning closer to him. Blake turns and raises an eyebrow at me. Right. Dumb question. If I didn’t pay enough attention in class to know his name, Blake definitely didn’t. I sigh inwardly and decide that, for now, he’s just going to be the professor and I will simply avoid ever needing to address him directly.
“Attention, students.” The professor drones, his voice perfectly even.
“We hope you are enjoying your evening.” He pauses, as if expecting enthusiasm to magically manifest. It does not.
“Hopefully by now, you have identified your assigned partners for the evening. If you have not, I suggest that you do so quickly, as the game of the night will start shortly.” There’s a faint ripple of nervous laughter through the crowd.
“I know you all want to spend time with your friends, but I promise you will not die if you talk to someone new for a few minutes.” He continues, unimpressed. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“You have five minutes to find your buddy. Then I will explain the rules of the game.” Every word is delivered in the same deadpan tone. I honestly can’t tell if he’s profoundly unenthusiastic… Or just deeply tired of students as a concept.
“Well, at least we already found each other.” I murmur, glancing up at Blake.
“Yes. We did.” Blake replies, his mouth curving into a satisfied smile.
Around us, students begin to move again, pairing off in clusters. Some look excited, others awkward. A few look outright miserable. Almost everyone seems to be standing next to someone they clearly don’t know very well, outfits matching in colour or theme, but expressions wary and uncertain. Blake and I stand out. Not just because of him, but because we’re relaxed. Familiar. It’s strange, realising how unusual that is. Who decided the pairings, anyway? The Academy? Did it put us together deliberately? Because it knew Blake would be furious if it didnt? Or would we have been paired regardless? Before I can spiral too far into that thought, the professor speaks again.
“I hope you have all found your partners for the game. I will now explain the rules.” He says. He gestures vaguely behind him.
“The intent of this game is to have you genuinely take the time to talk to and appreciate someone you ordinarily might not know. Most people seek out friends who are similar to themselves, like–minded, with shared values.” He clears his throat.
“The aim of this exercise is to encourage you to appreciate differences.” He states. I glance around again. Judging by some of the expressions, this lesson may be… Ambitious.
“If you look at the table behind me, you will see a pile of boxes. One for each pair. Make sure to choose the correct box. It should reflect you both “He
continues. That… Sounds ominous.
“All you have to do to win the game is be the first pair to open your box. If you succeed, there will be a prize inside. If not… You will still have an
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Chapter 54 54- Do Not Play With Anything That Shimmers Suspiciously
interesting box.” He shrugs slightly. A pause.
“Do not attempt to break the box using magic or physical force. I spelled each one personally. Destruction of the box results in immediate disqualification.” He states. Blake’s hand tightens almost imperceptibly at my back. I suppress a smile.
“Do not attempt to open the box alone. You will need your partner. Do not attempt to open the box with anyone other than your assigned partner. It will not work.” He continues listing rules as he folds his hands behind his back.
“There is no single correct solution. Even I cannot tell you the answers, because I do not know them.” He adds, then he nods once.
“Good evening. Good luck. I will see you all in class on Monday.” He concludes, and with that, he simply… Drifts away, crossing the courtyard and disappearing back into the Academy as if he was never emotionally invested in this event to begin with.
For a moment, everything is quiet. Then the music swells back into place, filling the courtyard again, and pairs of people begin drifting toward the long table stacked with boxes. Some move eagerly, others hesitantly, like they’re bracing for embarrassment. I exchange a glance with Blake, lift one shoulder in a half–shrug, then tug lightly at his arm, steering us in the same direction. A few people are lingering near the table as we approach, pretending to examine boxes that clearly aren’t theirs. The moment Blake steps closer, they scatter with impressive speed. Suddenly, we have the entire table to ourselves. There are dozens of boxes laid out in neat rows. Different sizes. Different colours. Different finishes. I scan them, excitement bubbling in my chest, and reach for the first one that catches my eye, a dark one. The colour looks promising at first, but the moment I lift it, I realise it’s black. Properly black. Too stark. Too heavy–looking.
“Nope.” I mutter, setting it back down. Blake picks up a white box next. He turns it slowly in his hands, examining it with a critical eye. It’s plain. Matte.
Unadorned.
“That’s not you.” I say immediately. He hums in agreement and places it back on the table. I keep looking, my gaze drawn instinctively toward anything that
gleams. Gold catches my eye next, several boxes with accents or detailing. I pick up the first one and discard it just as quickly. Too ornate. Too loud. It’s just
straight up gaudy. The second one feels wrong too. Then I grab the third. The moment my fingers wrap around it, I know.
“Found it!” I announce, unable to keep the excitement out of my voice as I wave it in Blake’s face. The box is about the size of a tissue box, solid and
weighty. The edges and corners are wrapped in intricate gold filigree, detailed, deliberate, almost indulgent. The rest of the surface is dark blue, marbled
through with pearlescent white that shimmers subtly when it catches the light. It’s not just matching our outfits. It’s us. Blake studies it, his expression
sharpening with interest. I turn it slowly in my hands, feeling the cool, smooth surface beneath my finger
“I wonder what the box is actually made of.” I muse aloud.
“It doesn’t feel like wood, plastic, or metal. And it’s too heavy for ceramic.” I mote as I tilt it slightly.
“Some kind of stone, maybe?” I guess. Blake nods, thoughtful,
“Maybe.” He agrees. I glance around and notice the cluster of students still hovering at a cautious distance, clearly waiting for Blake to move away so they
can safely choose their own boxes without risking proximity,
“We should go find somewhere to work on this. Away from the table.” I say quietly. Blake doesn’t argue. He simply turns and leads me a short distance away I look around, searching for somewhere to sit, but there aren’t many good options, just open stone and scattered standing tables.
“I guess we can sit on the ground?” I suggest. Blake makes a face. Before I can say anything else, he strides over to one of the nearby food tables, grips it firmly, and shoves it aside with ease. A few people nearby jump in surprise. He reaches up, pulls the tablecloth free in one smooth motion, then brings it back over and carefully spreads it across the ground like a makeshift picnic blanket. Then he gestures for me to sit I blink at him. That was. Unexpectedly thoughtful. And ridiculously charming. I lower myself onto the cloth, smoothing my skirts automatically, and have to bite back the sudden urge to lean up and kiss him again. The idea sends a little shiver through me. Later, I tell myself firmly. Right now, we have a puzzle box to solve.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
