Page 6

Raelan

AFTER PASSING THROUGH THE MISTWOOD, we emerge in the sunlight on the other side of the forest. And standing tall against the blue sky is Coven Crest Academy.

The stone walls of the castle tower well over our heads, and purple flags embroidered with the academy’s moon-phase crest billow atop the highest towers.

We pass through the barbican, experiencing a brief respite from the August heat, then ride into the courtyard on the other side. It’s dotted with outbuildings and gardens, and I even spot an archery range. Carriages are cluttered about the space, with people unloading trunks and bags and hugging and crying.

But as we draw nearer, much of their attention turns to us.

I tense beneath my armor. Wherever the royal family goes, stares follow. I just hope that in short time, Alina will become a common-enough sight amongst the other students that they’ll treat her as one of their own.

That would make my job a little bit easier.

Dragon aside.

I could feel her gaze on me as I rode alongside the carriage, and even now, I have the urge to turn and look for her. But I resist that urge. I have a feeling I’ll be doing a lot of that now that I’m here.

Some of the carriages move to make way, and our procession rides up and stops right in front of the main castle. I don’t dismount; rather, I scan the crowd, watching carefully for any signs of trouble. But mostly I see curiosity and awe, and my highly sensitive hearing picks up on the whispers of the gathered onlookers as the footman opens the door and offers his gloved hand to help Alina down.

They’re whispering about the princess, wanting to get a look at her, wondering what classes she’ll have and whether they’ll have similar schedules. For now, it’s all innocent enough. I take a breath, trying to relax my tight muscles.

Alina glides gracefully from the carriage, her long lilac gown whispering as it settles in the grass about her feet. A white fox jumps out behind her—her spirit companion, I know. Her pale blue hair is pulled back, revealing her light brown cheeks and startling blue eyes.

And when those eyes meet mine, my dragon responds with such sudden aggression that it makes me flinch and squeeze the reins. My mare tosses her head, upset with me for my mixed signals, and Alina arches a brow right before I tear my gaze away and reach down to pat Penelope’s strong neck .

“Shh, girl,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

She snorts and gives me a side-eye—rightly so.

“Sir Ashvale,” one of the young squires says, drawing my attention to where he’s now standing beside my horse. “Would you like us to transport your belongings to your quarters?”

My stomach twists at the reminder.

Because I’m Alina’s only assigned guard, the king wanted to ensure I would always be within close proximity of her, and he therefore made certain I would have a room right next to hers in the dormitory.

Part of me thinks the king is actually trying to kill me, to push me so hard my dragon has no choice but to rip me apart from the inside in its effort to get to the princess. Maybe this is a terrible test. If he knew the truth—that Alina is my fated mate—he’d probably not allow me within a square mile of his granddaughter.

I’m determined not to let him—or anyone else—find out.

“Yes,” I say when the squire starts to squirm under the weight of my long silence.

He nods before departing, and I shake myself internally. I have a job to do here, and I have to do everything I can not to get distracted.

If only my dragon understood how dire the situation is.

Alina and her mother, Princess Rowena Ravenscroft, head up the stairs to the castle’s entrance, accompanied by a number of guards and many squires carrying all of Alina’s belongings. Two young squires strain beneath the weight of a mahogany trunk, their foreheads glinting with perspiration in the summer sun.

It’s good for them. Builds character. And muscle.

A woman with long silver hair meets the princesses at the top of the stairs. I focus my hearing, homing in on her.

“Princess Rowena, Princess Alina.” The woman dips her head in a show of respect. “Welcome to Coven Crest. I’m Headmistress Lysandra Moonhart. Please come this way. I’ll show you to your dormitory.”

Before stepping through the grand double doors, Alina glances back, and her eyes find mine again. A tingle rolls down my spine. But she’s swept away so quickly that I can’t even think to school my facial expression into professional disinterest, and when Alina is finally out of sight, my dragon calms down, disappointment flooding through me.

I let out a heavy sigh.

After swinging down from my horse, I remove my helmet and motion for a squire to assist me. “Take her to the stables,” I say as I pass him the reins. “Brush her well, then turn her out with the herd. It won’t do having her cooped up. Makes her grouchy.”

Of course it does. My dragon knows how it feels to be caged. It’d drive anyone crazy.

“Yes, sir,” he says, already starting away, Penelope’s polished hooves clopping along behind him.

The whispers from the onlookers have died down some, but the staring still makes my skin prickle. I turn my back on the students and their parents and cast my gaze up at the towering double doors into the academy. And with a steadying breath, I force myself to climb the stairs and pass into the heart of Coven Crest Academy.

THE CASTLE IS A MAZE of corridors and classrooms and hallways with dead-ends. Portraits hang on the walls, plants reach for stained glass windows, and there’s a comforting coolness to the air despite the summer heat outside.

After trying and failing to find my way around, I finally flag down a young witch and ask her to point me toward the north tower, where Alina is to live for the duration of her four-year stay at Coven Crest. I believe the other three dormitories—south, east, and west—are occupied by the older students.

The witch’s cheeks flare pink, and she ducks her head as she says, “The castle can be hard to navigate. B-but I can show you the way, if you’d like. I’m here to help the first-years find their way around.”

I give her a single nod, and she turns on her heel, her academy-appointed black robe fluttering about her calves. Despite her small stature, she moves at a quick pace, forcing me to stay focused on her and not get distracted by all the sights and sounds the castle has to offer. In time, I’ll explore the castle fully, ensuring I know it well. It won’t do to get myself—or Alina—lost in the twisting passageways.

Without meaning to, I picture Alina alone in a candlelit hallway, her blue hair fluttering around her cheeks, her lips pursed as she turns to look at me. And then I imagine what it might feel like to touch her skin, to draw my fingertips across her face.

My dragon flares to life again, eager and willing, and I flex my fingers and bite back a grunt.

“What’s that?” the young witch asks, barely slowing her pace to glance over her shoulder at me.

I grind my teeth and force out, “Nothing.”

Seeming startled by my brusque tone, she turns back around, and I have to remind myself that I’m going to be surrounded by students now, witches and warlocks here from all over Wysteria and its outlying villages and hamlets. I’ll need to adjust my tone. These aren’t knights and squires and pages, like I’m used to.

“Here it is,” the young witch says, stopping at the bottom of a spiraling staircase. “The north tower. Would you like help finding the right room?”

“No, I can find my way from here,” I say, gaze trained on the stairs. Other students’ voices drift down the corridor, laced with excitement.

The witch’s shoulders slump a bit as her gaze flicks toward the bottom of the staircase leading to the north tower.

“But I appreciate the offer,” I tell her. My words come out softer this time, and I give her a small smile.

Her cheeks flush pink, and she squeaks out, “I-it was my pleasure. I’ll be around if you need me. My name’s Nella. I’m a second-year. I live in the south tower.”

“Sir Ashvale.” I bow my head to her. “And thank you for your help, Nella.”

She gives me a quick nod, then scurries off back the way we came. When she’s out of earshot, I shake my head and let out a sigh. Then I draw a breath and start up the stone stairs.

Dormitory doors flank the spiral staircase on one side, and arched stained glass windows are set at intervals into the exterior wall, allowing colorful summer sunlight to stream through and illuminate my way. I pause at one window, drawn by the vibrant red paint pigment used in the design. My eyes trace the form curling across the glass: a dragon, its wings outstretched, its eyes trained on the clear blue sky. Without meaning to, I reach out, and my fingers brush the dragon’s wings.

In response, my back itches, like my own pair of wings want to burst through my skin and carry me up, up into the sky. But I can’t. The magical chain around my neck makes sure of that.

It can only be removed by someone in the Ravenscroft bloodline, the intention being that I can’t take it off or be forced to take it off by someone else, therefore endangering everyone I come into contact with. It’s been too long since I last shifted into my dragon form, and the want—the instinctual need—to do so burns just beneath my skin, a fire that refuses to go out.

I should’ve asked the king for a night flight before embarking on this journey with Alina. Throughout the years, he’s allowed me to occasionally shift and soar off—always at night so as not to be seen—and now I’m dreading having not asked him. At least then I would’ve been able to get some of my pent-up energy out. But I suppose it’s too late for that now. I’m here, and I can’t just fly away—even if I really wish I could .

The dormitory door to my right opens suddenly, and I steal my fingers away from the window and turn to regard the two young men who step from the room. They eye me and my heavy armor with wary curiosity, then hurry down the stairs, their boots thumping as they go.

My dragon does not like that male students live in the same tower. At least the rooms themselves are assigned by gender.

Flexing my fingers into fists, I continue up the staircase, searching for Alina’s room number: NT33. Because all first-years will live in this tower, the staircase is bustling, and I have to keep stepping aside to allow students and their family members to pass by me, headed back down to the ground floor of the castle. Finally, I find room NT32, then climb the additional stairs to room NT33.

The door is already standing open, but I still knock loudly, my armored knuckles rapping against the wood, before stepping through the doorway. Not that anyone hears me. It’s a madhouse in here, with squires and pages moving Alina’s belongings about, along with a number of other people I don’t recognize—probably friends and family members of the three other witches Alina will be living with.

My eyes quickly track the space.

It’s surprisingly spacious and comforting despite being significantly smaller than anything the princess is likely familiar with. Near the doorway, a narrow spiral staircase leads up to a second-floor loft, where I imagine the beds are. Just past the staircase is a quaint living space with two purple couches, a large ornate rug, a few dark writing desks, and a brick fireplace, though it’s empty right now—and good thing too, because it’s warm in here even with the door to the cool hallway propped open and a breeze coming through the window.

Female voices drift down from the second floor: Alina’s and a few others I don’t recognize.

“Sir Ashvale,” Princess Rowena says, drawing my gaze as she descends the last few stairs to the main floor. “I wondered where you were.”

“Your Highness.” I dip my head to her, hands clasped behind my back. “I am nearby. Always.” I look up and meet her blue eyes, and she gives me a kind smile.

“I know you are.” She reaches out and places a hand on my armored shoulder, though I’m not sure if she’s trying to comfort me or herself. Then she draws away and says, “Have you seen your quarters? I believe they’re just up the way.” Gesturing to the open doorway behind me, she sweeps through it, and I follow her. She ascends the stairs, and a few of our squires part around us, pressing themselves along the curved outer wall and bowing their heads as we pass. “Ah, here it is. I’ve been told this room is typically used by older students, dormitory leaders, of sorts, but they’ve set it aside for you.”

Princess Rowena stops just outside the doorway and waves a hand for me to go in front of her. So I do, and when I step into the room, I almost draw a breath.

I didn’t expect much—a broom closet would’ve worked fine for me. But this is...

I draw myself up. “This is too much,” I say aloud .

Behind me, Princess Rowena laughs. “Nonsense. You’re here protecting my daughter. It’s only right you have comfortable accommodations.”

“A bed is comfortable, Your Highness.” I take another step into the room. “This is...”

I don’t quite have a word for what it is. But it’s certainly more than I would ever have asked for.

The layout is similar to Alina’s room, but much smaller, clearly for only one or two students as opposed to four. The main floor has a writing desk, two armchairs tucked close to a small side table, and a brick fireplace. I drift toward the staircase leading to the upper floor, and my sabbatons clink as I ascend each stair. When I step into the loft, I pause.

A bed stands against the far wall, flanked on either side by two empty bookcases. The squires already brought my trunk in, and it stands ready and waiting for me to unpack the few personal items I own.

“So,” Princess Rowena calls from the main floor, voice lilting playfully, “will this be suitable, Sir Ashvale?”

Putting my hands on my hips, I cast one last look around my new home, and for perhaps the first time since the king called me into his study this past spring, I think this might actually work out, that maybe this will be okay.

Until Alina’s familiar smell curls through the air from the hallway, sending my dragon writhing once more.

I’m reminded that no matter how comfortable my accommodations are, I’m still here to protect Alina, to be by her side, to guard her and watch over her.

And that is going to be anything but easy.