Page 82 of Spark of Sorcery

“I’d be really grateful if you wouldn’t wake me up throughout the night,” I yawn, as I snuggle into him and drift asleep.

I wake to Blaze nudging my cheek with his beak before spreading his wings and whizzing about the room. A slice of dim gray light by the window tells me it’s at least several hours before the seven o’clock bell.

I lie in bed watching the little dragon zooming about the rafters. This is surreal, totally surreal, and several times I pinch my thigh just to check I am awake.

It’s also clear this dragon has way too much energy and confining him in this room is going to be difficult. When he hovers by the window, whining, I decide I need to let him out.

“Blaze,” I say, and to my surprise he comes flying right towards me, landing on the mattress. “We can go outside, but you have to promise to stay hidden. No …” I scrabble for the best word to describe the strange noises this fellow makes, “growling.”

I am probably mad, but the way he stares at me with those golden eyes has me convinced he understands me. Of course, that’s totally impossible and this plan I’m forming in my head very likely to go horribly wrong.

I dress quickly, then wrap myself in the winter coat Clare’s given me and invite Blaze inside. He understandsimmediately, snuggling into my chest as I fasten the coat around us.

Okay, I look an unusual shape, but hopefully no one will be up this early. Even Thorne. I still take a deviating route out to the forest, avoiding the field just in case the shadow weaver is there early this morning. While I don’t mind him seeing us (although I’m sure he won’t approve of this plan), if he’s out there, there’ll be at least one or two of his oglers watching and I don’t want them spotting me with my bundle.

I walk several feet into the forest until we’re well hidden and then I peer down into my coat, finding Blaze peering back at me.

“I’m going to let you out for about an hour of play time.” Talking to a dragon this way is ridiculous. He is not Barney, my old dog. Then again, it seems as good a way of talking to him as any other. “Do not fly above the tree-line, stay down in the canopy, okay?” He blinks up at me. “I’m serious, if you fly up high, you’ll be spotted and then …” He cocks his head as if waiting for my next words. “And then … I don’t know exactly, but I’m not sure it will be good for you or for me.”

I unbutton my coat and immediately Blaze zigzags through the trees with so much speed and energy, it’s hard to keep track of him. Alarm shoots through my gut. If he takes off now, I’ll never be able to catch him, and I’ll have no hope of finding him. Although, as I watch him swoop up into the branches and pluck a squirrel twice his size from the branches, I query whether he actually needs me. He can clearly take care of himself.

Should I let him go? Is it fair to keep him hidden away in my room?

The little dragon answers my question for me.

He comes hurtling back through the trees, dropping the now-deceased squirrel at my feet.

“Jeez, thanks?” I say.

The dragon turns somersaults, then shoots away again.

I stare down into the squirrel’s vacant eyes. Is that meant to be a present or a death threat?

Before I make up my mind, the little guy is back again, this time stopping to lick my face three times before zooming back into the canopy.

I wipe my face with my sleeve. I am going to need to scrub myself extra hard under the shower in the morning, otherwise even those with the weakest olfactory skills will be able to smell dragon on me.

The next hour passes in much the same way: Blaze flying up into the branches, sniffing around dead piles of leaves and generally causing mischief, but returning every few minutes to check I haven’t gone anywhere.

When the academy clock bell clangs seven, I call his name, and he comes fluttering in to land on my shoulder, this time taking issue with my bun, growling, pulling and biting at it.

“Hey, I’ve already lost patches of hair. I don’t need to lose any more.” I lift him off my shoulder and cradle him in my arms, stroking at his head. “I’m afraid it’s time to go back,” I say, with a yawn. The dragon whimpers as if he understands but doesn’t struggle as I tuck him back into my coat and smuggle him back up to my room.

The next few days, Blaze and I fall into a routine. We rise early every morning and I sneak him out to the trees for an hour’s fly-around. He spends the day in my room huntingrats, destroying my socks and napping on my bed. I sneak him out for a late night flight after dinner and then we snuggle up together in my bed. My friends are a little on the annoyed side, assuming I’m sneaking off to spend time with the Princes – but it’s not like they can complain about that. Both of them encouraged the relationship.

I’m also extra careful to scrub in the shower and change my clothes after every snuggle with the little dragon, although I still have to endure another lesson with Fox scowling at me and scrunching up his nose. Dray makes one comment about me smelling strange right before history class but then I secure a seat at the back of the classroom away from him so that he can’t spend the entire lesson sniffing at me.

By Saturday afternoon, I’m exhausted. The academy, with all its demands, is not exactly an easy ride as it is. Throw in a demanding baby dragon and I seriously need about two weeks’ sleep. After yet another grueling circuit training – one I’m most definitely am not acing like last time – I collapse down on the grass and try to catch my breath. Clare collapses down beside me.

We’re halfway through a serious bitching session about circuits and exercise in general, when a shadow falls over us both.

“Exercise is essential for a healthy body and a healthy mind,” Beaufort Lincoln says, standing over us dressed in shorts that show off a pair of muscular thighs and a shirt that stretches over his impressive chest. I can’t help but let my gaze meander over him. He definitely has a very healthy body.

“Perhaps,” I tell him, “but it still sucks.”

“If you ate more, it would suck less.”

Clare snorts. Then covers her mouth with her handsand looks up at Beaufort with alarm. “Sorry,” she mutters meekly.