Page 110 of Under Restless Skies

And yet they keep ringing. And ringing—for at least an hour—but I wouldn’t be able to say how long. Surprisingly, sleep takes me.

I wake up early and remember last night, my chest tight, hoping not too many people died. While I spent my life getting used to these attacks, it’s different now that I’ve seen the bodies. But there’s nothing I can do.

After kissing the little dragons, I go to my room to pick up new clothes. Nelly and Celine are fine, but Cynthia is crying. Sheila—her best friend—was on watch last night.

My heart feels heavy as I imagine myself in her place, wondering if a friend is alive or not, but I don’t dare try to comfort her, since I don’t know her well. I take my clothes to the washroom, where I wash and scrub off all the scent of Ava and Vos.

When I return to the bedroom, Celine is talking to Cynthia.

“Wait to hear the news,” she tells her.

But the news might be horrible.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “Let’s hope⁠—”

“Leave!” Cynthia roars, and I walk outside.

Celine and Nelly follow, and we descend to the refectory, even if it’s early. As we’re going down the stairs, Nelly mutters, “She didn’t need to be so rude.”

“She’s upset,” I say.

“Sure.” Nelly shrugs. “But it’s not our fault. And this is the Sky Academy. People die.”

Celine clicks her tongue. “Perhaps we were bothering her, trying to cheer her up. I’d be sad too, if one of you…” She swallows.

“You mean me, right?” Nelly points at herself. “Mayara here has her royal protection.”

“Sorry,” I mutter. It’s true that it’s unfair, but I don’t think there’s anything I can say to make her feel better. I’d just annoy her more if I told her I’d love to fly.

“Don’t be sorry.” Celine shakes her head and gives me a smile. “One less person for me to worry about.” She turns to Nelly. “You’re still in the first year, and will be out of danger for at least some six, eight months.”

“Oh, yes. Such a looooong time.” Nelly snorts. “But I’ll make it count. So, star nectar party tonight?”

Celine wriggles her hands. “Yes, but I think I’ll stay with Cynthia.”

She’s right not to go, and I don’t think Nelly and I should attend either, since it’s a second-year celebration.

Nelly’s disappointment is clear on her face. “But you don’t know how long we’ll live,” she says as we arrive at the refectory. “Imagine if one of us dies, and then you’ll remember all the occasions we didn’t get to enjoy together. Also, Cynthia wanted to be left alone. The least you can do is respect her wishes.”

Celine pauses. “That’s true. But we also have Cardiana’s ball soon.” I shudder, thinking of Mallor’s deadline, but the girls don’t notice. “It’s not like we won’t have time⁠—”

“It’s not the same, and we don’t know how long we’ll live.” Nelly manages to sound like my brother when he was little, whining that he wanted something. “Please, please.”

“Fine. We’ll go.” Celine smiles at her.

We eat, then head to Dragon Knowledge class. At least today the class is more useful, as Instructor Katrine is talking about fire breathing.

“We don’t know how they produce their fire.” She shows a large diagram of a dragon. “The theory used to be that they had a special organ producing a flammable gas, near the lungs, except that we never found it in any of the bodies we dissected.”

Because it’s magic. The thought springs in my mind—where it will probably remain until eternity.

Katrine continues, “Another theory is that their stomach produces a flammable liquid, but there’s nothing unusual in their digestive system, nothing that makes them unlike other animals. So the answer, for now, is that we don’t know. One day, maybe, we’ll find out.”

Celine smiles, likely imagining making a breakthrough discovery.

The instructor walks back and forth, as if excited by the subject. “What we need to know is how to deal with their fire. Now, we have extensive experience and accounts coming from the Sky Guard, who faces these dreadful creatures on a consistent basis. Can anyone guess how we can stop a dragon from launching fire?”

A few people raise their hands, and the instructor hears their answers. “Stuffing their mouths,” “Hurting their throat,” “Piercing their stomach,” people say behind me.