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Chapter Twenty-Six

B riony

Neither of us sleep much that night. The baby dragon wakes every few hours crying for milk and Thorne is forced to return to his tower in the early hours to restock.

“Jeez, for something so little, he has a big appetite,” I say, wondering if my plan to keep him is going to work out.

As the little dragon suckles from my fingers, I voice my concerns to Thorne. “How am I going to keep him fed? How am I going to keep him hidden in my room? And don’t say I should take him to the Headmaster. I can’t give him up.”

In the brief time we’ve spent together, I’ve realized for all his gruff, silent and brooding exterior, Thorne Cadieux is a big softie.

Beaufort wouldn’t let me keep this dragon.

He’d be marching me over to the Headmaster’s office right now.

And Dray wouldn’t be serious enough to help me.

But Thorne seems to be someone who would happily wrap himself around my little finger.

“I’ll find him some food,” he says. “And I can magic him up some kind of cage.”

He looks over at the available space in the room.

“A cage?” I say, in disgust.

“It would be for his own safety,” he says. “If you leave him to free roam, he could hurt himself.”

“Or I could skip lessons and stay here to look after him.”

“And draw attention to yourself. And the fact you are keeping a baby dragon in your room.”

I want to stick my tongue out at him, because, of course, he is right.

Keeping the stone hidden was relatively easy. Keeping a dragon hidden will be much harder. So I decide for now to go with the cage idea and work something else out later.

“I still think it would be better to hand this dragon over. If the Empress were to find out you had a dragon and it hadn’t been declared–”

“Please can you just magic up the cage? Only, make it a snuggly one. He’s only little.”

“We can use the extra blankets I conjured here last night to make it comfortable.”

“Thank you,” I say.

Thorne watches the dragon while I freshen up in the tower bathroom, then leaves right before dawn.

I feed the dragon some more milk. He seems to be growing in strength with every meal.

By the time the seven o’clock bell clangs, he’s crawling about across my bed and beginning to uncurl his wings.

Occasionally he’ll let out a snort of smoke, but no real fire, and his steps are pretty unsteady.

“I guess, if you’re planning on staying around, we ought to give you a name, huh?” I say to him as I stroke a finger down his knobbly spine. “Something … dignified? George? Charles? Albert?”

The little dragon snorts at those suggestions and I take it he doesn’t approve of those regal-sounding names.

“Something a little less formal perhaps? Hmmm … Berty?”

The dragon shakes his head as if he understands, then lets out an almighty sneeze, that has him zooming backwards across the bed as a burst of fire shoots out of his nostrils.

“I got it!” I say, scooping him up and hugging him to my chest. “Blaze.”

When Fly knocks for me, I tell him I’m skipping breakfast and don’t place the baby dragon in the cage until the very last minute.

I’ve tried to make it as comfortable as best I can with the blankets and one of my old shirts.

I use the lid of the flask as a dish and leave him some milk.

“I have to go,” I say sadly, feeling more guilty than I have ever been in my life. “I promise I’ll be back. Just … be good.”

It feels totally surreal to be closing the door behind me and leaving a dragon in my bedroom. As I skip down the stairs, I debate whether I dreamed the whole thing up. Thorne, the fire, the dragon. Was that all just some crazy fantasy?

But my drooping eyelids, and inability to stop yawning, tell me it was real.

“Did those Princes keep you awake all night?” Fly says from nowhere, making me jump a mile.

“No,” I say .

Fly! Did he hear anything strange last night? Should I tell him?

But I can’t. Thorne implied I will be in trouble if it comes out I’ve been hiding a dragon and I don’t want my friend implicated.

He studies my face, a wicked grin on his.

Is dragon written across my forehead?

He must be able to tell.

“I slept in my own bed last night,” I tell him. Not adding that Thorne Cadieux was in my room.

“Stars,” he says, “things are moving at a glacial pace.”

“Don’t you have your own love life to keep you entertained now?” I point out. “You no longer need to rely on mine for entertainment.”

“But yours is so much more interesting.”

“Clearly not,” I mumble as he links his arm through mine and we head off toward Professor Tudor’s classroom, my belly filling with a dread I can’t understand.

A dread that is probably warranted because, as I shuffle into the classroom behind Fly, Fox’s head snaps around and he glares at me, his nostrils flaring and his eyes glowing even more vividly than usual.

What the hell?

I feel those glowing eyes on me as I cross the classroom and take my usual seat on the bench in the middle row. He’s still glaring at me once everyone else has taken their seats and the minutes tick by, the other students fidgeting uncomfortably on the benches.

Henrietta Smyte turns around in her seat to determine what exactly the professor is staring at. When she discovers it’s me, she rolls her eyes.

“Professor, are you planning on starting the lesson?”

He frowns and drags his gaze away from me. For a moment, he seems lost in his thoughts, then his shadows swim across to the blackboard and words appear as he begins a monologue about the responsibilities of safe magic.

“What the fuck did you do to upset him this time?” Fly whispers in my ear.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I whisper back. But unease is flooding through my veins.

This isn’t good – I’m absolutely sure this isn’t good.

A feeling that is only magnified when Professor Tudor’s gaze flicks between me and the blackboard non-stop.

He doesn’t even pretend to make the lesson interactive or interesting.

The monologue drones on and we’re forced to copy down notes from the board.

I’m already struggling to stay awake after my interrupted night and this lesson is not helping.

The classroom may be cold but it’s also dark and Professor Fox has a deep, rumble of a voice that lulls me towards sleep.

Twice I jerk awake; thankfully only Fly notices, giving me a look that suggests he does not believe I spent my night alone.

However, the third time, Fox spots me.

“I’m sorry, Miss Storm, am I keeping you awake?”

Everyone in the classroom turns around to stare at me.

“Falling asleep in lessons, Professor Tudor,” Henrietta chimes with obvious glee. “That definitely warrants punishment.”

Her eyes positively gleam and I half expect her to offer to be the one to mete out said punishment.

“For once, Miss Smyte, we are in agreement. Stay behind after class Miss Storm.”

“Seriously?” I can’t help blurting out. I’m beginning to take this personally. Half the other students appear to be snoozing around me, but I’m the one having to stay behind. Professor Tudor has it in for me and I have no idea why .

“This is starting to become a habit,” Fly mumbles under his breath.

I glare at Fox who simply glares right back.

When the bell clangs to signal the end of lessons, I’m more than annoyed. I’m furious.

He’s the only teacher in the academy from a commoner background, who comes from Slate Quarter. You’d think he’d give us kids a break. He knows where we come from. What it’s like. Instead, he wants to pick on me.

I stride to the front of the classroom, stopping a few paces from him, folding my arms across my chest and scowling at him. He’s leaning against his desk, but even then, he’s much taller than me and broader and stronger. I should be intimidated. For once, I’m not.

His arms are folded over his chest, and he’s scowling right back, his cool magic sparking with annoyance in the air.

I wait until all the other students have filed out of the room, Henrietta clearly taking her time as if she’d like to hang about and watch my berating. However, eventually, with a glare from the professor, she leaves too.

I open my mouth to give the professor a piece of my mind, but he beats me to it.

“Why the hell do you smell like a lizard?” he grunts.

That … that was not what I was expecting him to say.

And do I? Do I smell like a lizard? I hadn’t noticed.

I lower my chin and give myself a subtle sniff. All I can smell is milk.

“I do not,” I say.

“Miss Storm, I have an exceedingly good sense of smell, and you do. You reek of it.” His top lip curls in disgust. “I could smell it as soon as you stepped inside my classroom.”

If I wasn’t so mad at him, I’d be peeing my pants. How long before he works out the lizard he can supposedly smell is actually a dragon? But, luckily, I’m too angry to be scared.

“Is this the real reason you kept me behind? To tell me I stink?” I spit.

“Once again you are failing to appreciate how things work in this academy, Miss Storm. I am the teacher. You are the student. I ask the questions, not you. And you answer them.” He pushes away from the desk and stands to his full, towering height. “So, tell me, why do you smell of lizard?”

“Oh I’m sorry. Do I not smell like flowers and fruit and all things feminine and delicate like I should?

Well, as I’m sure you know, I have no freaking money.

I can’t afford soap or perfume or any of those luxuries.

I have to make do with what the academy provides for us.

And it’s not my fault if that smells like,” I lift my hands and make inverted commas with my fingers, “ lizard to you.”

“Miss Storm, no one else in this academy smells like a lizard.”

“Maybe,” I say sarcastically, “because I’m the poorest person in this academy and am the only one who can’t afford my own soap.” It’s a lie but I’m sticking with it. Striking back at him may be my only means of defense.

“You’re the Prince’s thrall,” he scoffs with such disgust; it’s as if the words taste rank in his mouth.

“I am not.”

His gaze rakes angrily over my face. “Are you telling me you’re not sleeping with them?”

My mouth falls so far open I hear my jaw click. “Wh-wh-what? That is so far from inappropriate, it’s untrue!”

“I’m just trying to unscramble my way through all your lies, Miss Storm.”

“You’re trying to gaslight me, that’s what you’re doing. ”

“Gaslighting?” He laughs. “You’re the one telling me the reason you stink of lizard is because of the soap.”

I lift my chin and glare at him.

“I don’t like liars, Miss Storm,” he whispers ominously, making me shiver despite all the burning anger in my veins.

“And I don’t like bullies,” I whisper back.

“Really? That’s not what I saw,” he says. “I saw you being pulled into the shadows to get up to who-the-fuck-knows-what with one of the worst bullies in the academy.”

All the blood rises to my cheeks and they sizzle. What with the cracking stone and baby dragon, I’d completely forgotten about the ball and mine and Dray’s run in with the professor.

I shouldn’t feel shame or embarrassment about that. I wasn’t the only one making out in the hall (okay it was more than that but the professor doesn’t know that … does he?).

I cringe.

“You’re making me late for my next lesson,” I mutter, hurrying to the door and praying with every bone in my body he doesn’t stop me. “And it’s with Madame Bardin!”