Over Easy

by T L Christianson

  “Doing research for a class, or is this personal again?” He asked, an eyebrow raised.

  “Does it matter?” I said, biting the top of my pen before flipping to page 28. I was tired of everyone knowing my business.

  I stopped when I spotted “Lambert” scrawled in careful calligraphy across the top of a page. Below it in black ink was my family tree in tiny cursive. The ledger went on for four pages until I spotted what I’d been looking for—my mother’s name. And below that, added to the book in fresh ink was me… well maybe me. It read Sydney Elizabeth Lambert.

  I snorted.

  The name on my passport was Sydney Miller. But Miller wasn’t even my real name. Was it even my legal name?

  Above that was written Celine Marie Lambert, with her date of birth and date of death. Her name was connected to another with a green line.

  Evgeni Alexander Garin.

  He had a date of birth but no death.

  “What? Who is Evgeni Garin?” I whispered. Was this my real dad?

  Shaking my head, I squinted at something by his name. Was that an asterisk? It was an asterisk, and near the slightly torn bottom of the page, I read, “*parentage speculated from DB.”

  DB? Dragon bond, maybe? Did my mother have a bondmate?

  Logan cleared his throat, pulling my gaze to where he sat. “Do you always talk to yourself, or just in quiet libraries while people are trying to work?”

  “Don’t you have someplace else you need to be?” I questioned back.

  “I’m writing my thesis paper, and this is the section I need. Don’t you have someplace else you should be?” He asked, before continuing to tap away on his laptop.

  I shrugged and began turning the pages of the book carefully to get to the index. “You already know why I’m here. Why are you even asking?”

  He let out a short bark of laughter.

  “What was that for?” I asked.

  “I just feel like you’re wasting your time down here,” he told me, slamming a book closed.

  “Really?” I asked doubtfully.

  He nodded. “Yeah. If you want to know more about Primes; this stuff is all old… Wait, what exactly are you looking for?” He’d changed tack, and I stared him down, giving him the ‘you’re an idiot’ look.

  I hesitated, wondering if I should tell him. After all, Logan already knew that I’d been researching Primes… and he did help me before.

  It couldn’t hurt to get a fresh opinion on the subject.

  “I’m looking into my mom. She died when I was little. I’m trying to figure out why she left the Dragonborn and what happened to her.” I tapped the book. “Which is why I’m starting with family history.”

  He frowned and considered my problem. “Hmmm… If it were me, I’d go talk to Angeven or some of the teachers. Look up your mom’s yearbooks. Find out who her friends were, call them, email them. See if any of them work here… Yeah, that’s what I’d do.”

  His attention shifted back to his computer.

  “Thank you,” I said softly.

  Logan made it clear he had intentions toward me, but whether they were good or not was still up for debate. I wasn’t his type, and I definitely was not like the girls I saw hanging off his every word. They were all perfect, pretty, and dumb… or acted dumb. Logan was magnetic, and I didn’t blame them for gravitating toward him. With blond wavy hair and a muscular soccer player’s build, he was definitely many girls’ dream guy. I’d even nicknamed him Captain America because of his perfect teeth and ever-present smile.

  As for me, I was under no illusion about my looks. I was pretty, but average—which was perfectly fine by me. I had dishwater blond hair, blue eyes, and preferred not to wear makeup.

  The only reason Logan had any interest in me was that I was the only female Prime from our generation.

  I was also infamous.

  Most students hated me for things I couldn’t control—like being a Prime or having a dragon mate. And not just any dragon mate, but Ashe Carrick, an up and coming leader in Dragonborn royalty. Well, not real royalty, but he was a Prime from one of the four families.

  Gazing at Logan, I thought of what he said a few weeks ago, I would’ve completed the bond with you by now…

  Those words rattled around in my mind, making me feel things I shouldn’t feel.

  Were those just words, or did he actually mean them?

  Ashe was so reserved, so careful… but sometimes in the dark depths of my soul, I didn’t want careful… I wanted passion and desire.

  My dragon Aaraeth growled at me, listening to my thoughts. She’d already given herself to Eondian, Ashe’s dragon and couldn’t understand why we didn’t follow suit.

  I sucked in a breath and thought to her, at least Logan has given me some ideas—ideas that aren’t half bad.

  My beast snorted again but seemed to back off.

  Pulling out a notebook, I wrote:

  Celine—Yearbook? Friends? Teachers? Boyfriends? Clubs?

  Then I wrote: Angeven and Calla Moorhead.

  Angeven was the ancient Headmistress who’d been here for forever.

  She was also related to Logan somehow, and Calla was a teacher here and my mother’s cousin.

  I stood and started toward the card catalog before changing my mind and turning around. Then, mind changed again, I spun back to the cabinet, the boards creaking beneath my feet.

  “Are you pacing, or do you need help?” came Logan’s voice.

  I chewed my lip and eyed his back. The black school polo shirt stretched across his shoulders. “Sorry, I was just…”

  “Trying to figure out where the yearbooks are?” he suggested helpfully after turning to meet my gaze.

  I nodded.

  He closed his book with a heavy thud. “They’re upstairs. I’ll show you.”

  I shook my head, my mouth hanging open, “Oh no. I can find them. It’s okay, really. You don’t have to…”

  Ignoring my protests, he breathed out a laugh as he passed me and headed toward the winding staircase. “It’s no problem. Besides, I need a break anyway. I’m hitting a dead end.”

  As he mounted the steps in front of me, I watched the Drake Prime. The school uniform fit him well, tapering at his narrow waist and then almost tight over his muscular behind and legs.

  How would you feel if Ashe looked at a female the way you’re looking at Logan? commented Aaraeth with indignation.

  I snorted, and she glided over my skin to peer out from my collar. Maybe if he would’ve just sealed the bond against council orders, then I wouldn’t have sex dreams every night! I’m only human…

  Her growl reverberated through my mind, No, you’re more. You’re Dragonborn.

  I sniffed and decided that ogling Logan was more trouble than it was worth. Little had I known that being soul bonded to a dragon meant I’d also have a babysitter. Speaking of which, where was my guard, Taya?

  Thinking of Taya led me back to George… the man who’d raised me. I struggled to call him George, but I refused to call him my dad again.

  I’d visited him in New York—without permission and in secret—to check on his recovery. But instead of finding the man I’d left months ago, he’d been a stranger.

  Now, I had no anchor and no compass to tell me which way was up.

  On top of that horrible revelation about my da… George, was that he was Dragonborn, but his dragon was gone. His dragon had been removed by the Stygian ritual—a punishment for the worst Dragonborn criminals.

  Whatever the reason for George’s lack of dragon, I couldn’t trust him any longer. He lied to me all my life, then tried to sew doubt in my mind about the Dragonborn and my own sanity.

  How could I trust a man like that?

  Biting my thumbnail in thought, I only half paid attention to where Logan led me.

  Regrets of New York haunted me still, along with a new insecurity. Could I trust myself? Could I trust my instincts after being so wrong about George?

  Or was I wr
ong about him?

  I still loved the man who raised me, even after everything.

  Maybe if I had stayed in New York, he would’ve opened up to me.

  Maybe he would’ve explained things if Ashe and Taya hadn’t been there.

  So, yeah, I had regrets.

  Stop dwelling in the past, my dragon chided before growling. George cut himself off on purpose, Aaraeth reminded me.

  I just don’t understand, I said.

  She snorted. Humans do strange things. The worlds are full of mysteries, and one can never understand it all. Do you want a bond with the Drake Prime?

  No! I don’t want a bond with Logan.

  I am tired of human machinations. You all are as younglings, saying one thing, and doing another.

  Rolling my eyes heavenward, I shook my head.

  “Earth to Sydney?”—Logan waved a hand in front of my face—“Long spring break?”

  “Sorry.” I forced a smile and realized that we stood in front of a tall bookcase, with intricate naked cherubs carved into the corners. Its shelves were filled with rows upon rows of red, leather-bound books.

  These were the Balaur Academy yearbooks.

  Turning, I called out to Logan, “Thank you!”

  His back to me, he waved a hand in acknowledgment as he strode away.

  2

  Examining the shelves before me, I blew out a breath. Aaraeth? What was my mom's birth year?

  Those are human things. You looked at it, just remember, she replied.

  I groaned, I was distracted by Logan.

  Hesitating, I considered going back to the basement to find it but decided not to.

  "It can't be too hard to find, though, right?" I asked my dragon.

  Those were my famous last words because that simple thing could have saved me a lot of time. Darn Logan…

  Starting with the year after my birth, I began working my way back.

  The index in each book came up empty—no Celine Lambert.

  I was about to give up until finally, her name showed up as a senior. She was older than I thought. According to the yearbooks, my mom was about thirty when she'd had me.

  Gathering up all the wrong yearbooks, I returned them before collecting the seven years of my mother's schooling here at Balaur.

  My fingers itched to start with her senior year, but I wanted to begin at the beginning.

  Setting the other six books aside, I opened up my mom's 1st yearbook at Balaur and found her name in the index:

  Celine Marie Lambert (Year 1)—House Drake. 8, 9, 12, 17, 19, 29, 45,46, 73, 98,104, 127, 208, 314.

  Flipping through to the pages listed, I sighed at all the group photos. Celine was in French club, Soccer (Where was the field?), Swimming (Where was the pool?), Cross Country, Debate, Math Team, Dragonology, and Hiking club.

  Dragonology? Hmmm…

  Her yearbook picture lay in a sea of faces. She wore a crisp white button-up shirt and Drake tie. Her big blue eyes and happy red cheeks were framed by light brown French braids.

  A sinking feeling came over me. It was hard to believe that this vibrant little girl was now dead. A lump formed in my throat, and I wondered if her death really was George's fault. My grandmother claimed he was to blame… but the George I knew, and this Dragonborn George, seemed like two different people.

  Questions about my past weighed on me like stones tied around my neck— questions about George and his motives and Celine and her family.

  George's betrayal made me second guess everything else in my life.

  Focusing back on the yearbook, I located more pictures that told the story of a happy girl in a place where she belonged and wanted to be.

  The next few yearbooks were more of the same. My mother was involved in all kinds of sports and activities; she looked older but still cheerful and vibrant.

  Until her sixth year.

  She wasn't in the yearbook at all. She wasn't even listed in the index.

  I closed the book to double-check the date on the cover. It was the right one, but no Celine.

  What happened between her fifth and seventh year? I did the math. She would've been sixteen—my age.

  My phone vibrated on the desk with a buzz, and I checked the time.

  "Crap," I muttered.

  I'd missed the sit-down dinner tonight in the main hall. My stomach grumbled in protest, but I ignored it. Turning back to the yearbooks, I picked up the following year and flipped to the index.

  Celine Marie Lambert (Year 7)—House Drake. 12, 22, 37, 107, 138, 209.

  I began flipping through the pages until I stopped on her yearbook photo.

  Examining her face, I felt the mystery deepen. Celine's smile was different. I didn't know my mother, but I knew that expression—it was forced. And instead of wearing makeup like she had in the previous yearbooks, she wore none in this photo. Her cheeks were sunken and dark circles ringed her eyes. Her once meticulously curled hair was unkempt.

  Alarm bells rang in my mind.

  What had happened?

  I hesitated, my hand looming over my mom's 5th-year yearbook, and I knew it contained answers. But first, it was time to talk to Calla, my mom's cousin. She lived in one of the teacher's apartments in Drake House.

  Gathering up all my belongings, I returned the yearbooks to the shelf.

  Pulling my hoodie over my head—the one that read I ❤️ NY—I slung my backpack over one shoulder. Pushing on the heavy wooden doors that led through the foyer, I spotted Logan. He waited and held the door open for me.

  "Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked, a smile dancing in his eyes as he matched my stride through wyvern and out into the quad.

  I shivered in the cold spring air and shrugged. "I think so. It's a start, at least."

  The snow had all disappeared, leaving in its wake a sodden field and skeletal trees. The only things keeping this space between buildings from looking thoroughly dead were the scattered pine trees.

  Logan tapped into his phone before pocketing it. "You know, I've heard about your mom's death. It was a big deal for the Dragonborn."

  My brows drew together, and I let out a short bark of laughter. "My mom died when I was a baby. I don't even remember her, and you're what? A year older."

  I don't believe you, hung in the air as if I'd spoken the words.

  He shook his head and pierced me with his stare. "My cousin was here when it happened. There's a cemetery here on school grounds where most Primes are buried."

  "Really?" I glanced in his direction.

  "Yeah. It's just down the western path past Eton."

  "I wonder if she died around the same time Harrow House burned down. Do you know anything about that? Like how it burned down or what happened?"

  His eyes were wide, and he frowned, "No, the fire was from crossed electrical wires. That building was ancient. Why would you think that? He asked curiously.

  I searched his face, feeling stupid. Was I wandering into conspiracy territory?

  Logan held his hands up in surrender. "Hey, I get it. I'd be suspicious of everything too if I were you."

  He blew out an uncomfortable laugh and shook his head, his eyes looking out over the barren field of the quad.

  "What? Are you laughing at me?"

  His gaze darted to my own, his countenance grim, and he stopped on the path. "No, not at all. This whole thing just sucks for you."

  Reaching out, the Drake Prime took my hands in his, and I didn't pull away. His gaze penetrated my own —earnest and concerned. His hands were warm on mine. I needed this—I needed touch and reassurance and comfort. And here was someone willing to give it to me.

  Finally, a prickle of guilt made me pull away and start walking again.

  Logan jogged up to my side and glanced at me. "Why are you so curious about your mom? Didn't your dad tell you anything about her?"

  I said nothing, and he didn't probe any further.

  We walked in silence for a few moments until he touched my arm to s
top me.

  "Look, it's the Egg Moon tonight.” He pointed to the full moon in the sky. “The beginning of new things, and the beginning of our friendship."

  I pursed my lips before muttering, "That's stupid."

  He laughed a nice sound that made me smile. Then we continued along the path.

  "I heard that you and Ashe still haven't completed the bond. Why not?"

  I blew out a breath and shook my head. "Wow, you don't mince words, do you?"

  I picked up my pace, yet he didn't get the hint because he continued to speak, "It seems like you need someone to talk to… you know, you can trust me. I wouldn't tell a soul, I promise."

  Aaraeth mulled over his words then said, he isn't lying. He won't share what you say to him.

  I stopped mid-stride and turned to him. "All right, I guess we're talking about this. You want to know about the bond? The council has allowed it, but not now. We have to wait until I'm eighteen."

  Logan's eyebrows went up. "Oh, yeah. I guess that shouldn't be surprising. Bonds can only be forged with parental consent under 18. But, you've had sex before, right?"

  I groaned and turned away toward Drake house, but Logan caught my arm.

  "No? You haven't?" He asked, seeming surprised.

  I shook him off, "It's none of your business."

  He studied me in the darkness. "Look, I'm just trying to help. Believe it or not, I'm on your side. I'm trying to be your friend."

  I glanced warily at him through my lashes before raising my chin. "I've been lied to—a lot. And I'm tired of it. I'm just not going to trust you because you say so. Words are cheap."

  Logan breathed out a sigh before stepping toward me. Then, before I could react, he'd squeezed me into a tight hug. I breathed in the scent of the school soap and his cologne on his neck.

  Logan loosened his grip and looked down at me. His face was way too close to mine, but instead of doing something stupid like try to kiss me, he laughed.

  His embrace and words were a salve to my soul—soothing and filling some hole inside me that Ashe had left. But it was too intimate, and I stepped away.

  I missed my soldier, and that yearning and longing deep inside me wasn't going to be fixed by someone else—not even Logan.