The meal was agonizingly long and arduous. I’d never known eating could be such a chore. My posture, he’d said, was at least decent, but every time I blinked, he was correcting something else. Talk slower. Enunciate. Laugh quieter. Smile more. Don’t look down so much. Never roll your eyes.
“Good grief, girl, he’s not going to leave you. He chose you. Slow down and try to remember what I’ve taught you. If they hate you, it will only make your year more miserable.”
This was all for Myth. The etiquette lessons, the endless discussions on the most popular poetic and historical works I would be expected to have studied if I were really Merlon Fairfax’s niece. Throughout the meal, he quizzed me one more time on the largest moments in Cavarian history I was supposed to be familiar with. My old school had breezed over the wars and barely covered the dynasty changes, and they’d omitted entirely any history having to do with dragon riders, considering itdidn’t apply to us.
“What was the main point Bernard was trying to make inCommand and Valor?”
I blinked, snapping my attention away from Myth. Seconds ticked by as I racked my brain.
Fairfax stared at his pocket watch. “That was one minute.”
With a grunt, I stood up and picked up the book sitting beside me on the table and rested it on my head. “Is this reallynecessary?” The chocolate cake that had just been brought out was sitting on my plate, untouched, as my mouth watered.
Fairfax chuckled. “Bernard was one of the earliest historians to write about human-dragon bonds. His work established the core of what we now use to teach others about dragon bonds. He was the first to publicly posit that dragonfire inhibits a dragon’s ability to bond emotionally with a human.”
I snorted.
Fairfax tsked. “That’s the kind of thing that will offend your professors, Arivelle. Remember, you are living proof that their history books are at best incomplete and at worst purposefully obscure. Ballads have been written lamenting the death of dragons too old to have their flame ducts severed. The success of our culture rests on the human-dragon bond. If you think you can pull that out like a rug, you’re mistaken.”
The book wobbled on top of my head, and I steadied myself. “What if they find out I’m not really your niece?”
Fairfax chewed slowly before answering. “Let us cross that bridge if we come to it. And let us hope we do not. Now, sit down and eat your cake like a proper lady, and I’ll let you go.”
On my way out the dining room door a few minutes later, Fairfax called to me.
Automatically, I straightened my shoulders and plastered on a placid expression before turning around.
But he was staring out the window at Myth. “Find out how the duke wins and beat him. I’m counting on you. On both of you.”
The morningof the start of term was crisp and damp with the hint of approaching fall. I’d slept with the windows opento escape the bottled heat of the day, but by morning, I was shivering in my borrowed bed. Today, I was going to Cardan Lott.
It felt a bit like someone had told me to jump from a towering cliff, and I was trusting my flapping arms would be all I needed to survive the fall.
Breakfast was a quiet affair, for which I was grateful. It seemed as if Fairfax had nothing left to say to me. I’d either learned enough or this would fail.
I thought of Evie and Mama, of how Fairfax’s money would keep them comfortable while I was away. Perhaps they wouldn’t need Bennett anymore, and if he felt like he didn’t have to provide for them, he might step away from the gang.
As I faced Lord Fairfax in the trundling train car that took us back to Treston, my fingers tightened around the smooth handle of the traveling purse he’d provided to complete my look as his niece. He’d outfitted me in a lemon-yellow dress and hat, complete with lace gloves. Top of fashion, he’d assured me. Finest material. He didn’t want me feeling out of place, which I appreciated, but these clothes felt like a costume. All my possessions, most of which were provided by my illustrious sponsor, were crammed inside a trunk riding at the front of the first-class train car.
The school was situated on the north edge of Treston, on the sloping base of Gray Mountain. It felt like a lifetime ago that I’d attended the race with Lord Fairfax and heard him speak the words that would put me here, heading to Cardan Lott with the wealthiest young men and women in Cavaria. We spoke little as we rode across the city, stopping at every train station that dotted the capital.
Too soon, the conductor announced that we’d arrived at Chesson Station, and I had nothing else to do but descend the train. As soon as we filed out of the station, a block away fromthe gates of the famous Cardan Lott, my heart shot to my throat at the sight of the imposing stone walls. The carriages arriving were spilling forth people in the most elaborate clothes I’d ever seen. And not a one of the girls wore lace gloves.
Instead, theirs were sleek leather, black or camel or burgundy. I longed to rip my gloves off and throw them in the gutter. It was still summertime, and the fashions about town were frothy lace and sunshine colors, all yellows and sage greens and petal pinks. But not here.
Everyone here was in shades of black, red, and navy, with flashes of white or buttery brown peeking out. They looked like they came from a different world.
The world of dragon riders.
Though these students were all recently bonded, they already dressed like the trained riders who crisscrossed our skies. High-waisted pants or skirts over blouses with puffed sleeves that mimicked the large, stiff shoulders of riding blazers. Some wore buttoned vests or oversized blazers that I’d seen on some of the women in the race crowds yesterday. Others wore more traditional blazers, the school crest woven on the breast. The boys wore suits, all dark, all crisp, and all freshly tailored, jackets boasting the school crest.
“Reeking ash,” I muttered, cursing Fairfax for dressing me like this. My yellow dress glared like sunshine on glass. “They will tear me apart.” I watched a pair of young women pass under the wide arch leading into what looked like a large courtyard beyond.
Fairfax sniffed. “You’re smart, Arivelle. Surely that counts for something.”
I frowned, partly at the rarity of receiving an actual compliment from Fairfax, and partly at the fact that knowing endless facts about dragons wasn’t the same thing as beingsmart. He pushed me gently toward the river of people flooding into the school.
“Remember why you’re here,” he said, offering me a small nod. “Success is your best weapon against them.”
