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The professor doesn't even look surprised. "Five demerits." Neither student slows down. "Worth it!" They shout.

"Move!" Someone brushes past me carrying what appears to be an entire suit of armor. A dragon rider. He nearly collides with another student.

"Sorry." The rider says.

"No, you're not." The student answers.

"No." The rider admits.

"Thought so."

They continue walking together as though this conversation happens every morning.

The staircase spirals through the center of the residence tower. Sunlight pours through towering windows overlooking the eastern cliffs. I pause halfway down. Below... dragons. Dozens of them. Some circle high above the mountains. Others rest upon enormous stone platforms carved into the cliffs. As though dragons have always belonged there. As though they are ordinary. I don't think I'll ever get used to that. And strangely I don't want to.

The dining hall is louder than the Ball ever was. Not elegant. Alive. Long tables stretch from one end of the room to the other beneath enchanted banners representing each of the Six Great Families. Sunlight spills through enormous arched windows.

Beyond them... the mountains. The cliffs. A dragon gliding effortlessly between both.

The smell of fresh bread reaches me before I even cross the doorway. Someone is laughing so hard near the center tables that milk comes out of their nose. A professor doesn't even look up from her coffee. She's seen worse.

"Eirea!" I close my eyes. Caelen. Half the dining hall turns toward him. Wonderful. He waves me over enthusiastically. Traitor. I weave between tables.

"I'm beginning to think you enjoy embarrassing me." I tell him between my teeth.

"I love embarrassing you." He answers.

"I noticed."

He grins. "I saved you a seat."

I follow his gaze. Unfortunately it's between him and Rhyven. Of course it is. Rhyven looks up from his breakfast. Looks at the empty chair. Looks at me. Then very audibly sighs. I stop walking.

"Excuse me?" He stabs another piece of fruit with entirely unnecessary aggression.

"I didn't say anything." He says.

"You sighed."

"I breathed."

Dax snorts into his coffee. "That was definitely a sigh."

Rhyven points his fork at him. "Nobody asked."

I fold my arms. "Am I interrupting something?"

Rhyven finally looks at me. "No." Another pause. "Not yet."

I blink once. Twice. Then I smile politely. "You're remarkably committed to being unpleasant before eight in the morning."

He shrugs. "I'm remarkably committed all day."

Silence. Then against my better judgment I laugh. Just a little. Rhyven notices. His eyebrow lifts. Then he goes back to eating. And I still think he's an asshole. Maybe an entertaining one. But definitely an asshole.

I quickly discover two things. The first is that wolves consume alarming amounts of food. The second is that Dax speaks enough for the entire table.

"I swear on my life," Dax says around a mouthful of toast, "it was the dragon's fault." He adds.