by Chris Cannon
Were they having a guest lecturer? While Bryn studied the stranger, she realized he was taking note of every student in the room. One by one, he was making eye contact with each student looking them up and down. Not in a creepy, I-think-you’re-cute way, but in an I-might-have-to-kill-you-if-you-annoy-me kind of way.
The sound of metal sliding against metal caught Bryn’s attention. Valmont had drawn his sword. Gaze locked with the stranger’s, he held the sword down to the side, like he was relaxed, but she could see the tension in the roped muscles of his neck.
The stranger grinned. “Don’t worry, Knight. I’m not here for your dragon.”
“I’m not worried,” Valmont’s tone was calm, even, and oddly threatening. “I’m giving you fair warning.”
“You are delusional,” the stranger said, “if you think your presence here concerns me.”
Fire banked in Bryn’s chest. Whoever this guy was, she didn’t like him. “You have more than my knight to worry about.”
“Bryn, calm down. Akbar is here by order of the Directorate. He is gathering information,” Mr. Stanton said. “Nothing more.”
“What sort of information?” Jaxon asked.
“I have a gift.” Akbar continued to scan each student, studying them like he was waiting for one of them to mutate into a demon or something. “I can see what you don’t want me to see.” He pointed at Clint. “Say what you want to say. I can tell you have a remark to make which you think is clever.”
Clint leaned back in his seat like he wasn’t annoyed at being called out. “I’ve never met a Green who hoarded his intelligence. Some of them act annoyed or superior when they have to explain something, but none of them act…cryptic and judgmental and what’s the word—stalker-ish, maybe?”
The atmosphere in the room shifted as the students seemed to realize Akbar could represent a threat.
“You never answered my question,” Jaxon spoke in a superior my-father-is-the-head-of-the-Directorate tone. “Why are you studying us? What are you looking for?”
“A liar.” Akbar continued to scan the students until he landed on Octavius. “And I believe I’ve found him.”
A low growl came from Octavius’s throat. It was echoed by his mate Vivian. Bryn and several other students also growled.
Akbar approached Octavius. “We need to talk. Come with me.”
“Under whose authority do you demand my cooperation?” Octavius asked.
“The Directorate’s,” Akbar said.
“Then you should have papers,” Jaxon said, “proving you are here on official Directorate business.”
Akbar whipped around to face Jaxon. “I don’t need papers.”
Bryn stood. “If a Westgate says you need papers for Directorate business, then you need papers. Either show us the documents or get out.”
Mr. Stanton stood there, not speaking, not intervening, not doing much of anything. What was wrong with him? Wait a minute. Was he smiling? Suspicion tickled Bryn’s brain. “Teachers don’t normally let guest speakers attack students. Is this some sort of test?”
Akbar’s expression completely changed. His narrowed eyes widened. The hard flat line of his mouth softened and turned into a smile. “Well done, Bryn. And well done to the rest of you, too.”
Clint raised his hand. “What just happened?”
Akbar leaned back against the desk and chuckled. “What happened is something I’ve been writing my thesis on. You all just proved it. Since the attacks, and since students were injured and have actually come back to school, Clan boundaries have softened. Your father, when he was a student here at the Institute,” he pointed at Jaxon, “would never have stepped forward to defend someone from another Clan.”
“You don’t know that.” Jaxon looked as pissed-off as ever.
“Actually, this study has been done for many years by different scientists, and the results have always been the same. Your father didn’t object to a student being removed for questioning. No one did. None of them realized it was a test. They assumed it was business as usual.”
“Why did you pick me?” Octvious asked. He sounded as furious as Jaxon looked.
“You are a minority with the fewest Clan members to come to your defense,” Akbar said. “So you were the perfect choice.”
Octavius nodded like the answer satisfied him.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a thesis to complete.” Akbar headed out the door.
Later that afternoon in Basic Movement, Jaxon came toward Bryn with a smile on his face.
“Is it me, or is that smile annoying as hell?” Valmont asked Clint.
“It’s not just you,” Clint responded.
Bryn moved to intercept Jaxon before a battle of words ensued. She’d had quite enough conflict this morning, thank you very much, so she walked over to meet him. “Hey, Jaxon. What’s up?”
“What you said, this morning in Mr. Stanton’s class, did you mean that?”
“I said a lot of things. What are you talking about?”
“That if I said something about Directorate protocol, I was right.”
Where is he going with this? Bryn shrugged. “You’ve lived and breathed dragon politics since you were a kid. I figured you knew what you were talking about.”
“It’s good that you can acknowledge my superior intellect in these situations.”
Bryn’s mouth dropped open and then she laughed. Was he looking for some sort of ego boost? “Sure, you are superior in your knowledge of Directorate laws. Does that make you happy?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I still fly faster than you.” She couldn’t let him get away with feeling too smug.
“I’m better with a sword.” He tapped his chin like he was thinking. “That makes the score two to one in my favor.”
What was he doing? “Sure. Two to one. Your favor. Go celebrate.” With that, she turned back to Valmont, Clint, and Ivy who were standing by the treadmills.
Valmont stood stiff, shoulders back, staring at Jaxon with suspicion. “What was that?”
“He was all happy that I said he was the dictionary of Directorate law.” Bryn shrugged. “I don’t know what it was about.”
“More like the douchebag of Directorate law,” Valmont shot back.
Clint and Ivy laughed.
“No argument there,” Bryn said. Although she couldn’t help thinking that what Jaxon had done in Mr. Stanton’s class showed he was a far better person than Ferrin, and for that she gave him a certain amount of respect, which seemed to annoy her knight.
“Are you worried I’ll be wooed by his obnoxious holier-than-thou charm?” Bryn asked. “Because that isn’t going to happen.”
“Of course not,” Valmont said, but there was an edge to his tone, which was only slightly less sharp than the blade strapped to his thigh.
Ivy clapped her hands. “Enough drama, people. It’s time to joust.”
A nervous, sick feeling pooled in Bryn’s stomach. “I don’t want to.” She hadn’t taken a turn on the joust since she’d been shish kabob-ed earlier in the year.
“A javelin through the thigh does have that effect on a person,” Clint said.
“But,” Valmont took her hand and pulled her toward the line, “sometimes you have to face your fears to overcome them.”
“I don’t suppose I could walk around my fears or ignore them?” She did a bob and weave maneuver to illustrate her point.
Valmont shook his head. “No.”
“Damn.” Bryn glanced at the pit with the foam blocks. Sweat beaded along her hairline as she remembered the wrenching ripping pain of the javelin driving through her thigh…all the way through. The image of the javelin tip protruding from her flesh featured in her nightmares on a regular basis.
Mrs. Anderson stood across the pit. “Bryn,” she spoke in her loud teacher-voice, which rang throughout the gym, “I was wondering when you’d be ready to joust again.”
Anyone who hadn’t
noticed Bryn turned to stare. Students already in line eyed Bryn like they expected her to cut and run or make some sort of argument. Both of those options sounded better than actually jousting again, but she’d be damned if she let them know that. Apparently, Blue dragon pride trumped common sense.
“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Anderson added, “I cleaned out the pits and replaced the foam blocks this morning. Nothing pointy is waiting for you if you fall.”
“Good to know.” She’d just have to make sure she didn’t fall, ever.
Bryn climbed the ladder to the jousting platform, making sure to keep a calm expression on her face. This wasn’t a big deal. She’d jousted dozens of times. Nothing bad had happened. The sharp pointy metal javelin through her thigh had been a fluke. It wouldn’t happen again.
Once she reached the platform, she grabbed the jousting stick and did a few practice swings. Not a problem. She glanced at the foam pit below and fear banked the fire in her gut. She focused on snow and cold. Smoke drifting from her nostrils would give her fear away. Frost was a lot harder for any of those watching from down below to see.
“Are we jousting or not?” Her opponent, a Red female Bryn didn’t recognize, called out from the other platform.
Bryn planted her feet hip-width apart for better balance. “Let’s go.”
The Red swung, and Bryn blocked before delivering a blow of her own. The other girl wobbled and then struck at Bryn’s knees. Shuffling her feet, Bryn maintained her balance and swung at the girl’s hips. They traded blow after blow, with neither of them making much progress or giving an inch.
The girl swung widely and clipped Bryn’s temple, making her head ring. What the hell? That was out of bounds, and two could play at that game. Bryn thrust her jousting stick low between the girl’s calves and yanked sideways, lifting the girl’s left foot off the platform, causing her to pitch sideways, lose her balance, and take a header into the pit of foam blocks below.
From her perch, Bryn watched as the girl snarled up at her. For a second, it looked like her eyes flashed dark brown before returning to their normal shade of green. Bryn froze. Was this girl a Red-Black hybrid, or was it a trick of the light?
Bryn scrambled down the ladder and ran to the foam pit, but the girl was nowhere to be seen.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Valmont slung his arm around her shoulders.
Creeped out that she might have run across an unfriendly hybrid, Bryn leaned into his warmth for comfort and because it gave her a chance to whisper, “I think that girl may have been like me.”
Valmont didn’t respond right away. Maybe he didn’t get it.
“Black and Red,” Bryn whispered. “And none too friendly.”
“Then we need to find her.”
“I don’t see her.” Bryn scanned the gym, but there was no sign of the girl. “Can you spot her?
“No. Maybe we should ask Mrs. Anderson if she knows who it was.”
A quick check with Mrs. Anderson didn’t provide any answers. Bryn filled in Clint and Ivy.
“I didn’t pay much attention to your opponent.” Clint scratched his head. “In fact, I don’t pay much attention to a lot of people. I file them away by Clan unless I know them. Why does that suddenly make me feel like a jerk?”
“I think the enemy is counting on us acting like that,” Ivy said. “Since it’s the way we’ve always acted.”
“According to Akbar’s experiment with Octavius, we’re not acting the way dragons have always acted,” Bryn said.
Clint touched his forehead. “Thinking big thoughts is making my head hurt.”
Ivy bumped him with her hip. “Be serious. We need to figure this out.”
“We’re not going to figure it out here,” Bryn whispered. “Let’s meet in my room tonight to do homework and see what we can come up with.”
…
After dinner, Clint and Ivy followed Bryn and Valmont back to their room.
“We’re not really doing homework, are we?” Clint asked as Ivy pulled a notebook from her book bag.
“I am.” Ivy fished a pen from the bottom of the bag. “I’m guessing you’re going to stick with your standard wait-until-the-last-minute routine.”
“How well you know me.” Clint sat on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table.
“Okay,” Bryn sat on the other end of the couch while Valmont stretched out on the floor, “let’s make a list of ways the students are acting differently and what that might mean.”
“Mean to whom?” Valmont asked.
“Good question.” Bryn tapped her pen on the paper. “Some of this will tick off the Directorate. Some of it will tick off whoever has been attacking campus.”
“If the Clan boundaries are softening, that isn’t a bad thing,” Valmont said. “Being friendlier toward each other doesn’t hurt anything, right?”
“I wonder if Jaxon would agree with that statement.” Clint stared up at the ceiling. “He helped Octavius, but if someone had told him his actions would undermine the Blues’ status, I’m not sure he would have.”
The instinct to defend Jaxon reared up inside Bryn. What the hell is that about? And why was Valmont studying her like he was waiting for her to do exactly that? Maybe she needed to throw him a bone. “I’m not sure, either.”
Valmont’s posture relaxed. What is up with him? Is he jealous? That was ridiculous. Then again, she was slated to marry Jaxon. If Valmont acted chummy with a girl he was supposed to end up with, she wouldn’t love it, either. She’d have to be more careful around him. Being loyal to her knight was more important than being friends with Jaxon.
They talked in circles for the next hour while they finished homework. At eight o’clock, Ivy shut her notebook and smiled triumphantly. “All done.”
Clint stood and stretched. “Good, then you can help me with mine.”
Bryn laughed.
Ivy packed her book bag. “That’s not how it works.”
“I’m pretty sure it is.” Clint grabbed her book bag and then held out his hand to help her to her feet. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“Right.” Ivy rolled her eyes but let him pull her up and lead her toward the terrace exit. “Goodnight, guys.”
“Goodnight.” Bryn locked the window behind her friends and returned to find Valmont had moved to the couch. She plopped down beside him. “Hey there.”
“Hey.” He sidled closer and put his arm around her shoulders.
Leaning into him was a habit now. It felt right. She closed her eyes and let the stress of the day drain away.
Valmont cleared his throat. “We need to talk.”
Chapter Eighteen
So much for relaxing. “Why do I feel like this isn’t going to be a fun conversation?”
“It looked like you were flirting with Jaxon today.”
Laughter was the only logical response, and then she noticed the tight set of his jaw. “Sorry. The idea of flirting with Jaxon is beyond absurd.” She grabbed his hand and gave what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “The only feelings I have for Jaxon are irritation and grudging respect.”
“I hate him,” Valmont spoke in a voice so quiet she barely heard him.
And the situation had gone from funny to tragic. “You have no reason to be jealous.”
Valmont laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “You’re going to marry him, aren’t you?”
How could she answer that question? “There is the possibility I will have to marry him, but it won’t be real. I will never want to sit and hold hands with him like this. I will never want him to kiss me. I will never care about him the way I care about you. Does that help?”
“It does.” Valmont squeezed her hand. “But I still hate that you’re going to be bound to him.”
“Only on paper.” How else could she reassure him? “I know it must be hard thinking about me being with him. The idea makes me nauseous, too, but don’t let that distort what we have.”
Valmont took a deep breath and then let it
out. He raised his gaze and stared into Bryn’s eyes. “And what do we have?”
And the moment was here. Time to step up and say what she felt and hope he felt the same way. Because if he didn’t… She couldn’t even think about that. It was too painful.
“What we have is something wonderful. Something worth holding on to. Something we shouldn’t throw away based on insecurities and fear and the idiocy of the Directorate.” She leaned in and brushed her nose against his. “You’re my knight. I’m your dragon. No one can take that away from us.”
Her heart thumped in her chest as she waited for him to respond. As every second ticked by, she feared she’d said too much.
“You’re mine.” His face was so close to hers she could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke. He moved so his mouth lined up with hers and whispered, “My dragon.” And then he kissed her. Magic flowed through their bond. The flying sensation zinged through her body, and she felt him draw back for a second before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
A knock on the door had Valmont jerking away from Bryn so quickly, it made her dizzy.
“What the hell?” Bryn shot him a dirty look.
He didn’t seem to notice as he stalked to the door. “Who is it?”
There was no answer. Valmont put his hand on the doorknob.
“Don’t.” Bryn scrambled to her feet. “People have a habit of wiring bombs to doorknobs around here.”
“We walked through that door two hours ago.”
“Yes, which would have given someone ample time to mess with it. Plus why would someone knock and then run away? The only reason to do that is to play a prank on someone or do something worse.”
“You make a valid point.” Valmont moved away from the door. “We could fly down and go in the front entrance, climb the stairs and see what’s out there.”
“We could.” Bryn worked to phrase her next suggestion carefully. “Or I could call Rhianna. She’s just down the hall.”
“You know damn well Jaxon is probably with her and he would be the one coming to investigate.”
“Maybe.” Bryn tried to look like she didn’t think that was the case even though she knew it was. What was the best diplomatic tact to take? “You choose. We can fly down and come back up the stairs to check it out, or we can make a phone call.”