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“I don’t know how to move my wings without taking off.”

He looks at me with an expression that is halfway between patient and annoyed.

“Flapping without taking off is kind of my whole problem,” I tell him. “I broke my leg, and one time I broke my wings.”

The others laugh. I already stood out by being human—and I’m not sure they really know what a human is. They know the word, but it doesn’t resonate. To them, I’m just a weird creature.

“Step forward, extend your wings, and put just enough power into their movement to move them without moving your body. It is a simple enough instruction, your highness.”

He saysyour highnessas if I am a spoiled royal brat. I’ve heard people use that tone with Tempest before, when they really wanted to do something terrible to her, or say something mean, but they knew they couldn’t because of who she was—or more accurately, who her father was. I’ve become the spoiled little brat she always wanted me to be. She’d be proud. Or horrified. I miss her.

I try to do exactly what he says. I get the sense of it. I’m supposed to put just a little bit of energy into the matter, but the truth of it is I can’t do that. Every time I extend my wings, I get swept upward almost immediately.

“No!” The instructor’s voice is sharp as he follows me up on my accidental flight, reaches for me, grabs me by the chain and drags me back down to the ground. “I said no taking off.”

“Sorry!”

Everyone laughs.

“You may be the king’s mate, but I expect you to behave and follow the same rules as everyone else. Follow instructions. To the letter. Or you will end up in detention.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhh uhmumumumumum…” The class makes a chorusing sound at his declaration.

“I really don’t know how not to take off.”

“If only we had a class before the absolute beginner’s class,” he says. “But we do not. So you will have to attempt to follow directions.”

Ornix

I have been resting on the bed, not napping, but recalibrating. I am sending my energies out in the effort to sense the seal. Its disappearance really does not make any sense. It is too powerful of an artifact to hide itself from me. I felt it in the kobold den, and I think I will feel it again. I just need enough peace and quiet to…

“Argh!”

My mate slams the door, which takes all her effort and even then only manages to be a slightly deeper thud than usual. It’s the thought that counts, though, and I feel her energy from across the room. She comes storming in, stamping her small human feet with as much fury as she can muster.

“How was your first lesson?” I drawl the question, knowing what is going to burst forth from her.

“That Wraith! He was sorudeto me,” she curses. “He’s insufferable.”

I’ve not seen her in this particular mood before. Frustrated over a mundane inconvenience, dealing with someone else’s authority, and clearly hating it.

It’s quite cute.

“I remember when he taught me. He was demanding, but that’s because there’s a lot at stake when it comes to flying. Come here.”

She flops down onto the bed, tired and annoyed, her wings safely tucked away behind her shoulders for the moment. Our kind undergoes entire shape changes when we shift forms. We do not need to work out where our wings are going to go. She is still struggling with the inconvenience.

I pick up one of her little feathers as it attempts to waft into my mouth. She’s shedding them all over, not intentionally, but because she cannot help it. This wing situation is such an adorable mess. She shouldn’t have them, but she does. And they should probably have scales, not feathers, but who knows how that works. There are more mysteries in this realm than any of us are truly aware of.

The humans have their mechanical mysteries, not knowing how things work. They try to break things down, take them apart. Dragons do things differently. We move with the mysteries. We become them. Melissa is starting to do the same.

“And he talks to me like I’m spoiled or expecting special treatment. Like it’s my fault I’m human. It’s not my fault I’m human.” She keeps complaining.

“Did you learn anything?”

“Of course not. He was talking about self-control and such. How am I supposed to have self-control when I’m not even allowed to flap a little?”

“I’m sure you’ll learn it.”