Page 482

The green female lowers her front body. Wings begin opening. I move immediately. "Launch."

Kaelis calls from behind me. "Why?"

"Weight forward. Wings preparing. Tail clearing."

"Good."

I step outside the displacement zone. Her Rider mounts. The dragon launches. Wind tears across the field. My coat snaps behind me. Several students stumble. I don't. Progress.

We repeat. Again. Different dragon. Different Rider. Different cues. One young dragon gives almost nothing before movement. Another practically announces every intention with his entire body.

Vyrael is worst. Of course. Ancient bastard moves only when he wants to and apparently believes everyone else should adapt. Rhyven stands beside him. Not mounted. Not yet. His hand rests briefly against the dark scales near Vyrael's shoulder.

I walk toward the station. "Show-off."

Rhyven looks at me. "He hasn't done anything."

"Exactly. Intimidating while stationary." Vyrael's eye shifts toward me. "Respectfully." Rhyven's mouth twitches. Kaelis points toward Vyrael.

"Vaelith." Naturally. "Read."

I study him. Still. Head high. Wings folded. Tail curved behind. Nothing obvious. Then his gaze shifts toward the upper ridge. Rhyven hasn't moved. Vyrael's chest expands. One wing loosens. Not aggression. Preparation. "He's leaving."

"When?" Kaelis asks.

I watch. Tail moves clear. Weight forward. "Now."

Vyrael lowers. Rhyven mounts in one practiced motion. The dragon launches. The impact of his wings hits like weather. I brace. Don't step back. Good. He climbs. High. Fast. Black shape against the morning sky. I watch longer than necessary. Probably. But everyone does. Vyrael is impossible not to watch. They circle once. Then descend. This time the exercise changes. Landing coordination. We need to clear a safe zone before the dragon touches ground. Students move. One too slowly. I grab his sleeve.

"Left." He listens. Vyrael lands seconds later exactly where he had been standing. The student looks at me.

Then at the claw beside him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Rhyven dismounts. Looks toward the student. Then me. Nothing. Just one nod. That's enough.

For the rest of the morning, we practice around airborne Riders without ever becoming Riders ourselves. Dragon takeoffs. Landings. Casualty retrieval near a grounded dragon. Moving wounded students without crossing tail range. Reading distress. Recognizing when a Rider is losing control of a situation before anyone asks for help. And by the end, I'm filthy, windblown, and happier than I expected. Because I'm finally learning how to stand beside creatures like these without being useless.

That matters more.

Lunch is outside. Not officially. Cassian decides the dining hall is "oppressive." Nobody knows what that means. He steals two trays. Nyra insists that's not allowed "The trays belong to the Academy. We are within Academy grounds. Legally, they remain home." Cassian answers. Nobody has enough energy to argue.

We sit near the south courtyard. Grass. Sun. Actual warmth. Nyra pulls her shoes off. I stare.

She looks at me. "What."

"Nothing."

"You've never seen feet?"

"Not yours."

Cassian looks horrified. "Please stop this conversation."

Caelen arrives late. Again. Drops onto the grass beside me. Takes an apple from my tray. I slap his hand. He takes it anyway. "You're a parasite."

"Family."

"Same thing."