Dragonless, Not Undesired: Bonded To Four Royals

"It isn’t from Raice," I blurted as I read the tight, neat script blooming across the paper.

Elira,

The group meets at noon. A guide has been dispatched. When it arrives, follow it. We keep each other safe.

— T.

"Who is T?" Bren’s tone had a cautious edge as she stepped beside me to look at the note.

"Tobin," I sighed. "A Sylven I met after the assembly. He told me about a group of lower-born initiates—commoners, minor houses, people without powerful families behind them. They look out for one another. He invited me to join."

Bren frowned, her thick brows knitting together. "I don’t like it, Elira. I’ve heard stories about this place back in Redmere. Senior students love setting up fake ’support groups’ for naive first-years. They lure you into secluded spots and do some bizarre things. Predators come in all shapes."

"A Sylven? Bren, please. They’re tree-dwelling little rodents with oversized egos and a devotion to plants. What is a creature like that going to do to us? We are Dragons. Well... two of us are Dragons, and Elira has... a very aggressive attitude. We have nothing to fear from a little wood-sprite." Miriel shrugged.

"It’s not about being afraid of Tobin," I said, glancing out the window at the distant, towering spires of another Academy I suspected was the Fae’s. "It’s about options. Raice didn’t tell me he was enjoying my opinion yesterday to offer me a commendation. He’s plotting something. And if he comes for me, I’d rather have a few allies in my corner than stand completely alone."

~~~

By noon, the sun sat high and cold in the pale grey sky above Last Bastion.

We stood near the threshold of the West Annex courtyard, waiting. I was beginning to think Tobin’s "guide" was a ghost story meant to make us look foolish, when a tiny snap echoed near my right ear.

A creature no larger than my thumb materialized out of thin air. It was a moth, but its wings were made of glowing blue embers that crackled softly every second, casting a warm light across my face. It left a trail of azure pollen floating in the chill air as it circled my head, then drifted down to land directly on the back of my wrist.

The tiny creature didn’t burn. It felt like a drop of warm spring water resting against my skin. It pulsed once, sending a gentle vibration through my veins, before launching itself into the air and hovering three feet ahead of us.

"Well," Miriel admitted, begrudgingly taking a step forward. "That is... uncomfortably precise."

"I hope this ’neutral ground’ of his is actually neutral," Bren muttered, resting her hand near the hunting knife she had strapped to her belt.

"Tobin swore it was. Let’s move." I replied, keeping my eyes locked on the glowing blue moth as it drifted out of the annex and into the main thoroughfares of the Academy.

Leaving the miserable quiet of the West Annex was like stepping straight into a churning, chaotic hive. Last Bastion was vast...

A sprawling fortress carved directly into the mountain, with the five academies occupying separate domains connected by neutral thoroughfares.

And since the Council had declared today a free day, the senior cohorts had taken over every square inch of the shared artery linking the five academies where anyone could walk without a Warden’s pass

As we followed the ember-moth down the sweeping stone avenues, the world around us erupted into a display of casual, high-tier power.

To our left, in a sunken stone training courtyard, two third-year students were locked in a fiery duel.

A Lion shifter roared, throwing a punch that launched a shockwave of literal kinetic force across the dirt.

His opponent was a Fae girl who summoned a wall of crystalline ice that absorbed the blow with a loud CRACK, before countering with a wave of sub-zero frost that sent the Lion flying backward straight into a fountain.

He splashed into the water, swearing violently while the Fae girl calmly dusted off her sleeves.

Above us, the beat of giant wings traveled the air. I looked up just in time to see three dragon seniors racing on their dragons across the slate roofs of the lecture halls.

One of them let out a booming laugh, throwing his head back and belching a stream of golden fire into the clouds, scorching the stone eaves of the library.

"Sweet spirits," Bren breathed, her eyes wide as she ducked beneath a stray cloud of drifting ash. "They just set the architecture on fire. Do the Wardens not care?"

"The Wardens only care if you break the outer wards or kill someone from an Allied House," Miriel said, though she sounded distracted.

She was staring wide-eyed at a nearby marble statue of the First Rector, where a fifth-year Fae girl was floating entirely upside down six feet in the air, casually reading a book while a male dragon shifter sat beneath her, his arms wrapped around her waist as they aggressively made out in broad daylight.

Miriel’s cheeks were bright pink. "Disgraceful. Public displays of affection behind ancestral monuments. Have they no shame?"

"They have high mana outputs and royal bloodlines," I noted dryly, stepping around a terrified first-year who had accidentally set his own left sleeve on fire. "In this place, that seems to substitute for manners."

As we crossed the central archway leading toward the lower gardens, the ambient noise of the crowd began to dissipate. The casual chatter and shouting quieted as several groups of upperclassmen lounging along the stone balustrades turned their attention toward us.

Or rather, toward me.

The lead male smirked down at me, running a thumb across his throat in slow motion.

"Look at that, boys!" he called out. "It’s the dragonless trash who thought she could speak to the High Rector’s son!"

A few nearby students snickered, while others backed away, giving us a wide berth as if my very presence was contagious.

"Better enjoy your free day, initiate! Raice Ignis-Dominus doesn’t leave scraps! You’ll be a corpse in the sewers before the ball tomorrow!" another senior shouted.

Bren hissed through her teeth, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her belt. "I swear to the spirits, I’m going to take a hammer to the next person who yells at us from a balcony. What is so special about this Raice fellow anyway? Why is everyone acting like he’s a deity who can’t be looked at?"

Miriel gasped, clutching her hands to her chest as if Bren had just committed high treason. "What is wrong with you? He is Raice Ignis-Dominus! His mother is the High Rector, his father’s bloodline traces back to the Fae royals, and no one in the entire senior cohort is better at security and threat detention than him!"

"He’s a psychopath with bad manners," Bren grunted.

Miriel’s voice went dreamy. "He is also the most striking, beautiful male to ever walk the halls of this Academy, I’ve heard. Have you no eyes, Bren? He looks like he was sculpted out of ice."

Bren stared at her like she had lost her mind. "He threatened to slit Elira’s throat! That doesn’t cancel out the lunatic part!"

"It certainly helps," Miriel muttered under her breath, crossing her arms defensively.

I kept my mouth shut, staring straight ahead as the ember-moth fluttered past a row of weeping willow trees. I didn’t join the argument because, infuriatingly, Miriel wasn’t entirely wrong.

Raice was beautiful. In the dark blood-chilling way a tempest was beautiful right before it tore a house from its foundation. There was also something about him... some sort of sizzling sensation in my chest that drew me to engage him in the first place. But admitting that out loud to my roommates felt close to handing him a victory he hadn’t earned.

"That still doesn’t give him a reason to execute her just for talking to him," Bren grumbled, glancing at me. "You didn’t do anything wrong, Elira."

Except I didn’t just talk to him, I thought dryly. I insulted his mother, insulted her precious Last Bastion, questioned his sanity, and said he deserved to be incinerated.

Eager to steer them away from my imminent execution. I turned to Bren. "You’ve been talking about your uncle’s trade carts and Redmere since yesterday, but you haven’t mentioned your mana affinity. What’s your power, Bren?"

Bren’s lips curved into a mysterious smirk. "Guess."

"Earth," Miriel declared instantly. "You have the hands of a ditch-digger."

"Wrong," Bren chuckled.

"Fire, then," I guessed, watching her step lightly over a protruding root. "You have a fiery temper."

"Wrong again," Bren said, winking at us. "Keep guessing all you want, girls. You’ll see it soon enough when someone decides to test us."

I was about to call Bren out on her mysteriousness when something brushed against my hair.

I halted abruptly in my tracks, glanced back, but there was nothing... or no one there.

Probably the wind.

Except there hadn’t been any wind.

Strange.

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