Vanya tilted her head. “Oh, really, Ari, how can younothave heard of it?” She blinked at my silence. “It’s all the girls are talking about.”
I lifted my hand. “You’re my only friend, Van. In case you hadn’t noticed.”
She scoffed and waved my comment away. “They don’t know how magnificent you are yet. But theywill”—she leaned forward, matching my posture—“when they see you dancing with Shep at the ball.”
My head shook slightly, partly dismissing her words and partly trying to shake the flip of excitement in my stomach at the thought of dancing with Shep. “He’s just a friend.”
“The ball is held every year at the start of racing season. An old tradition here.”
I frowned. “That’s months from now.” Racing season officially began at the start of spring.
“Give yourself some credit.” She reached out and tapped the side of my head with her pen. Instinctively, I reached up to see if any ink had smeared on my face. “He didn’t askmewhat I was doing this afternoon, and he bowed toyouat the train station. Plus, he’s here, isn’t he? After you told him you’d be here tonight.”
“This is the library. Everyone comes here.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’ll ask you, and you will say yes.” She nodded, waiting for confirmation.
I nodded back. “Okay, sure.”
She wiggled her fingers in glee. “Ari, he’s the third-year champion! Going with him would make them all look at you differently.”
I sat back in my chair so fast it clunked a little, drawing more scowls from those around me. “I don’t want my value as a person to come from who I’m courting. I mean, we’re not courting. Idon’t…” I huffed and stopped talking, staring in dismay at my half-filled paper.
Vanya studied me, waving her pen back and forth in her long fingers. She was striking, even late at night with her dark hair tied back and the shine of a long day touching her skin. Even if she weren’t royal, she would turn heads.
“You don’t get it,” I mumbled, trying to focus on the words in front of me, which were starting to blur together.
“Actually, my dear, I do get it.” She waited to say more until I was staring at her. “People are fearful beings, and they often won’t form an opinion of their own without some encouragement in one direction or another. They’re afraid to think on their own, so they let the world shape their ideas, their opinions. Few are brave enough to think against the current around them. With a little encouragement, however, a person’s mind can be changed.”
A weak smile tugged at my lips. “You liked me without any encouragement.”
“I don’t need someone else to think for me.” Her words came out light, but there was a heaviness to them that touched her eyes. She closed her books and rose, and I was struck by how very different we were; even her movements were regal. “Don’t forget to sleep, Ari.”
After another quarter hour of unfruitful work, I glanced up at Covington. He was staring at me from across the library. He jerked his head toward the doors, and I was standing before I knew what I was doing.
Outside the library, my heart beat like I was stealing something as I walked down the hall toward Covington’s retreating form. Around a corner, he paused, back against the wall.
“What?” I hissed, voice low.
“Have you told anyone? Does Vanya know? Does Shep?”
I shook my head violently. “No.” I straightened. “What happened?”
He sighed. “Nothing.”
“You can’t drag me out into the hall, worried to death something has happened, and then saynothing.” I crossed my arms.
“Did you learn all there is to know about training a dragon with its flame?” he asked, nodding back toward the library.
My shoulders fell a little. “No. There isn’t anything in there about?—”
He cut me off. “I know, Miro.” His voice was sharp. “You can’t keep checking out all the books about dragonfire that exist in the library. Or about wild dragons. It’s too obvious. I thought you knew to be discreet about this.”
I scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll just consult my family compendium of infinite dragon-training knowledge.”
He turned aside, one hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose.
Before he could reply, I blazed on, fueled by mounting anger. “What would you do if something were ever difficult for you?”
