LEXI
Okay, that’s worrying. I double–check that my schedule and phone are in my pocket, then shove my notes into my desk in a slightly
chaotic pile. I barely remember to cap my pen. Layla gives me a small nod as I slip out the door. The second I’m in the hallway, I pick up
speed. I don’t fully run, that would draw attention, but it’s a very committed fast–walk that probably looks suspicious anyway. My shoes
slap lightly against the stone floor as I weave through students. Courtyard. Flying basics. Blake. The air shifts the moment I step outside.
The courtyard is loud in a very different way to the corridors, wind, flapping wings, the occasional shout from above. It only takes a few
seconds to find the flying basics class. You can’t really miss it. There are students scattered across the open space in pairs, some already
partially shifted, others stretching wings. And Blake. He spots me immediately. Of course he does. His head turns before I even get close,
eyes locking onto me with that sharp awareness that always makes me feel both safe and slightly scrutinised. He looks confused. And…
Agitated. Is something wrong? Is that why the Academy called me here? I give him a small shrug as I approach. I don’t know what’s going
on either. A sharp clearing of a throat snaps my attention sideways. A middle–aged man is staring at me. I’ve never seen someone who
looks so much like a rat. It’s uncanny. Pinched face. Prominent ears. Tiny, sharp eyes. His nose genuinely looks like it might twitch at any
second. His mouth is pulled into a perpetual thin line of irritation. Professor Harkness, I assume. No wonder Blake hates this class.
“Miss, what are you doing here? You are not a part of this class.” He says, and even his voice fits. High, slightly squeaky, edged with
disdain. Oh gosh. I don’t even try to argue. I pull my schedule from my pocket and hand it to him wordlessly. His eyes narrow as he reads
- it. Then narrow further. Then with a small, irritated huff, he hands it back.
“Very well, Miss Elle. If this is what the Academy thinks is best, you can work with the dragon.” He says in a tone that implies he very
much does not think it’s best.
“I just hope your partner is skilled enough to keep you from falling, since you don’t fly.” He says mockingly. There’s a faint ripple of
laughter from somewhere behind me. I resist the very strong urge to glare.
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“Sure. I’ll go join Blake.” I say evenly. I make sure to say his name. Not ‘the Dragon.‘ Blake’s jaw tightens slightly at the professor’s
phrasing. I head to his side, hyper aware of the way several pairs of eyes follow me.
“Hey.” I say quietly. Blake tilts his head.
“Hi? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you doing here? Don’t you have class?” He asks. I shrug again.
“No clue, Last–minute schedule change. Apparently the school decided I’m needed here. Professor Harkness said I’m your partner and I should hope you don’t let me fall.” I pause,
“Care to fill me in?” I ask. The blood drains from Blake’s face so quickly it’s almost dramatic. He opens his mouth to answer, but Professor Harkness‘ voice cuts across the courtyard.
“Well, now that everyone has a WILLING partner.” He announces, loud and sharp, his eyes flick to me. Annoyed. Pointed. I roll my eyes before I can stop myself.
“It is time for everyone to practise flying with passengers.” He continues.
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“You will take turns in your pairs. One person shifted, one human. You are expected to spend the next hour and fifteen minutes mastering
the skill.” He instructs. My stomach dips. Passengers.
“As this is a controlled environment, your partners should all be capable of flying should they fall.” He pauses.
“With one exception.” He adds. Every head turns. Every single one. His eyes land on me again. Heat crawls up my neck. Whatever. It’s fine. All I have to do is let Blake carry me around and not fall off. And… Wait. Does that mean I finally get to see what he looks like as a dragon? The thought sparks through me like lightning. He’s been stubborn about not showing me for weeks. Dodging the topic. Changing
the subject. Claiming it’s ‘impractical indoors. Well. We’re outdoors now.
“Okay, get on with it, class. Try not to break anything.” He tells them rudely. Professor Harkness moves into a shady corner where a chair is already waiting for him. He sits. Just… Sits. Arms folded. Watching. Seriously? He’s just going to observe? I hate him even more. Shouldn’t he be… Teaching? Offering guidance? Correcting technique? I sigh and turn back to Blake.
“Well… Shall we?” I say, trying to sound far more confident than I feel.
Blake still looks concerned.
“But you don’t fly.” He says, but it comes out firmer this time. Not panicked. Just… Controlled. Like he’s stating a logistical problem, not a
fear. I shrug.
“So? You won’t drop me. Besides, if this wasn’t a good idea, the Academy wouldn’t have added it to my schedule.” I point out. He studies my face carefully, searching for hesitation. For doubt. For anything that looks like I might bolt at the last second.
“You’re really okay with this?” He asks. His voice is steadier now. Low. Confident. But there’s an intensity to the way he’s watching me. I
nod.
“Sure. It’ll be fun.” I answer. A few nearby students are pretending not to stare. They’re failing. Blake lifts his chin slightly, composure
sliding back into place. The dragon everyone expects him to be.
“Of course it will… You’ll be perfectly safe.” He says smoothly. That sounds more like him. He pauses.
“Just… Don’t freak out, okay?” There’s a flicker in his eyes when he says it. Fast. Almost hidden.
“Freak out? Why would I freak out?” I demand.
“Most people do when they’re face–to–face with a giant fire–breathing lizard.” He replies dryly. It’s delivered like a joke. But his gaze doesn’t leave mine. Seriously? He thinks I’m going to be scared of him? He won’t hurt me. I’m sure of that. He’s the same person. Just…
Bigger. Scaled. Slightly more likely to accidentally crush something. Right? I roll my eyes.
“I’ll be fine. You’re the one freaking out. Get on with it already,” I say firmly. I gesture impatiently. Around us, other pairs are already shifting. Wings unfolding. Feathers and fur and scales appearing in flashes of magic. Blake exhales slowly through his nose. Not dramatic. Not shaky. Just measured. He straightens.
“Stay there.” He says calmly. Not a request. An instruction. He steps back, putting a little distance between us. His movements are
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controlled. Deliberate. Like he’s aware that everyone is watching and refuses to give them anything less than perfect composure. His eyes lock with mine. They begin to glow. Gold bleeding outward from his pupils until they burn bright against his face. And then… Fire. Not a small flare. Not a gentle transformation. An explosion. Flames erupt outward from him in a violent, roaring burst that makes the air ripple with heat. Students nearby stumble back. Someone gasps. The courtyard briefly fills with the crackling rush of magic and heat. I throw an arm up instinctively against the brightness. The fire consumes him entirely. For half a second, there is nothing but blazing light. Then the flames collapse inward. Fall away. My eyes adjust, and I’m standing face–to–face with a dragon. He’s enormous. About the size of an elephant, at least, and that’s not counting the tail. The tail is wickedly long, thick and muscular, tapering into a sharp spike that looks like it could punch through stone if he flicked it hard enough. I immediately make a mental note to stay clear of that. His body is covered in dark blue scales. So dark they’re almost black. In the sunlight, they catch faint hints of deep sapphire and midnight indigo. They overlap in sleek, powerful lines across muscle and bone. Three huge sets of black horns curve from his head. Not symmetrical, arranged in a way that makes him look even more formidable. And the tips of each horn gleam like they’ve been dipped in molten gold. The gold matches his eyes. He lowers his massive head slightly, bringing himself closer to my level. And I see it. Wariness. Not fear. Not uncertainty. Just… Waiting. Waiting to see if I step back. If I flinch. If I look at him differently. Even as a dragon, his eyes are the same. Expressive. Sharp. Intelligent. Very aware of me. Oh. He’s waiting for my reaction. I crack a smile.
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“Your horns…” I say slowly, tilting my head.
“They’re so sparkly. I love it. Think I can get nail polish that colour? I could paint your claws to match.” I tease. For a split second, he just stares at me. Then he snorts. A puff of smoke rolls from his nostrils. The sound is unmistakably a laugh. He bares his teeth in a wide, toothy grin. Rows of sharp, dangerous fangs that look more than capable of shredding armour. Good thing he’s on my side.
Comments
Liz S.
Such a great approach and reassuring banter. Thank you!
7 days ago
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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.
