Page 42 of Under Restless Skies

All I know is that I need to guard my heart and make sure I don’t fall for him. And yet the fact that it’s a fear means… it’s a possibility.

A chill takes my chest. Whatever happens, I can’t let Alayel seduce me. He’s creepy and lewd, not to mention unpredictable and temperamental. And untrustworthy.

And gorgeous. If I close my eyes, I can still hear his heartbeat and smell his scent surrounding me as we waited in that cave.

I’ll go insane if I don’t forget him.

My steps are careful as I descend the stairs, even if in reality I should hurry.

Two floors, then turn right. Quite simple, and yet my heart’s rattling in my chest as if I was about to enter another dragon cave.

It’s just a class, and I need it. One step toward my dream. But now that I’m so close, I wish I could turn around and hide.

That’s quite ridiculous. I’ve hidden long enough in the Grease & Spice kitchen, and would have shrunk into nothingness had I stayed there. Of course stepping out can feel strange.

Aren’t all things worthwhile scary?

I’ve walked into a dragon’s nest. I’ve faced a rider and his deadly magic. No fear shall hinder me.

I look at the paper Alayel gave me. Dragon Knowledge – room 733. Instructor: Katrine. His handwriting is sharp and precise, listing the classes and rooms where I have to go, with notes to provide me guidance. He’s horrible sometimes, but at least he’s trying to help me.

No.

My own voice chills the warmth I was feeling for the bastard prince. I earned the right to be in this academy. It was part of our deal. Maybe it’s not his fault that all I’m getting are scraps, but giving me those scraps is not some huge favor.

My breath stills as I stand before a door with the number 733. Closed, of course. And now I don’t know whether to knock or walk in. It’s odd how something so simple can make me feel so vulnerable. Helpless. But then, most of my lessons were at home, with my mother. The thought strangles my chest.

Being in a school is new, and being an outsider who doesn’t truly belong is unsettling.

I open the door—and come to a large classroom with round tables with two to four students each. Drawings of dragons decorate the walls. In a corner, over a small cabinet, stands a glass jar with a translucent liquid and a red dragon head. I have to divert my eyes or else I’ll get sick. A middle-aged woman with long brown hair stands before a blackboard, glaring at me. She must be Katrine, the instructor.

“Yes?” Her tone is dismissive, but her voice sounds vaguely familiar.

I bow, unsure even if it’s what I should be doing. I’m aware of every inch in my body and they all seem to be positioned wrong. “Apologies for the delay. It’s my first day.”

She narrows her eyes and dissipates any minimal confidence I had.

“It’s everyone’s first day in this class. In fact, I was explaining how you’re expected to be punctual.” She looks me up and down. “What section are you in?”

How do I answer that? “Cleaning crew,” I mutter.

Giggles echo in the room, and heat rises to my face, the sting of humiliation oddly painful. There’s nothing wrong with the cleaning crew, but it doesn’t seem like it.

The woman walks back to her desk and looks at an open book. “You’re Mayara of the Earth?”

The sound of my name in this place feels incongruous, strange. With a shaky nod, I mutter, “Yes.”

“Take a seat. And make sure to catch up.”

My vision is suddenly blurry, perhaps because I don’t want to face all these people laughing at me. Having to find a place among them makes my insides cold. For a moment, I wish I could hide somewhere far away, but then I remember how much I wanted to be here, how much I need to keep trying, and I look at the tables again, searching for an empty chair.

A hand up in the air, waving, catches my eye. To my surprise, it’s Celine, wearing the academy uniform, her blond hair tied in a ponytail, sitting by a girl with wavy, brown hair. I’m glad to see at least one familiar face and approach their table, which is the one closest to the front. I don’t understand why Celine, a second-year recruit, is taking this class, but I won’t complain. Depending on how the day goes, I might even thank Foros.

Under the scrutinizing watch of the instructor, I take a seat silently, unable even to say hi or ask the girl anything.

“And why are you here?” Instructor Katrine asks.

It takes me a second to realize she’s staring at me, and I’m not sure what kind of answer she’s expecting.