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"Tail."

He looks. The dragon's tail shifts toward the right path. Blocking it. "Oh."

"Exactly." We go left.

We reach the training body. Cassian grabs the shoulders. I take the legs. Nyra watches the dragons. "Wait." We freeze. A green female crosses our extraction route. Head low. Wings tight. Fast.

"Agitated." I say. Nyra nods. We wait. She passes. "Now." We move.

By Station Four, sweat has soaked through the back of my training shirt. My arms hurt. My shoulder still aches from yesterday's suppression drills. Vayne checked it this morning. Bruised. Nothing more. Rhyven had been irritatingly satisfied by that information. Not because I was hurt. Because I went. I refuse to think about it. Then I see Station Four. Vyrael. Wonderful. The ancient dragon sits like someone carved a mountain out of black stone and taught it to breathe. Head slightly lowered. One wing partially separated from his body. Tail motionless. Eyes fixed somewhere beyond us. I've seen this before. Question seventeen. Of course. Rhyven did this on purpose. Asshole.

Professor Kaelis looks toward me. "Vaelith." Naturally. "Primary state."

"Environmental awareness."

"Threat level?"

"Low."

"Why?"

"Jaw relaxed. Breathing steady. No defensive wing positioning. Tail inactive."

"Attention?"

"Beyond us."

"Response?"

"Hold."

"Not retreat?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Sudden retreat could draw his attention toward us."

Silence. Then— "Correct."

I look toward Rhyven. "Question seventeen."

His mouth twitches. "Apparently useful."

"You could've warned me."

"No."

"Consistent."

Vyrael's eye shifts toward me. Slowly. My amusement disappears. I stay still. His head lowers. Not much. Enough. His pupil remains steady. Breathing unchanged. No tension in the jaw. Interest. I think. No. Not think. Read. Interest. I don't move. Vyrael extends his neck. Toward me. The students around me become very quiet. His head stops several feet away. Warm breath moves across my hair. I keep my hands at my sides. No reaching. No assumption. No stupidity. His nostrils flare once. Then again. His gaze moves over me. And for a strange second I get the unmistakable feeling I'm being evaluated. Then Vyrael lifts his head. Done. I breathe again. Professor Kaelis nods. "Good." Rhyven says nothing. But when I step away, one slow nod. There. Again. I hate how much I like that.

The next student approaches Vyrael too quickly. His head changes. Barely. I see it. So does Rhyven.

"Stop." The student freezes. "What changed?" Rhyven asks.

The student stares. "Wings?"