One year later

Lifting my hands, I purse my lips at the pastel yellow I want, and then smile, flooding the hallway in magic. Colour flushes over the grey drab stone, smoothing any cracks and creepy shadows, and instead washing the space in sunlight. My fingers flick, replacing the barbaric torches for lanterns, and with a flourish I spin to the windows, creating long arches and stained glass in emerald, cerulean and fuchsia. The patterns require attention, so with a pinching motion I fashion the image to one of flowers, birds, and jewels.

My magic has come far over the last year thanks to locking myself away in the library, keeping my head down and trying to forget what happened between myself and Eagan. He’s left me alone, not doing more than necessary as my squadron leader, and he leaves me to make the dormitory hospitable.

With a happy sigh, I eye the ceiling, twisting my hand until a chandelier twines into being, all leaves and vine detailing. Another flourish, and the drab floor slabs turn to polished wooden floors complete with a long-woven rug following the length of the corridor. The stairs become wooden, another arching window appearing, and I fine tune the space, adding flowers, artwork, and tapestries.

“Perfect,” I smile, admiring my handiwork, “Cheerful and bright.”

Axel steps through the front door, which I had transformed into a deep green with an intricate silver handle, and he stops dead, reviewing the space with a look of bewilderment.

“Did Eagan okay this?”

I shrug, because Eagan had been ignoring me for weeks, in a foul mood hostile enough that he can’t even bring himself to look at me.

“He said I can make it hospitable,” I reason.

Axel whistles.

“I gather you got your inspiration from citrus fruits?”

I roll my eyes, before catching sight of the sword at his hip and the crusted mud on his boots.

“You were training again?” I ask, catching the unease flickering across his face.

Axel may be built like a shithouse, but he can’t lie, nor does he even want to. He hangs his head, copper curls shaking as he hesitantly shakes his hair out, his cheeks puffing up as he prepares to admit to whatever has happened.

“So,” he begins delicately, his hands splaying in front, “Don’t be mad. I warned him. We went to the woods.”

I blink, squeezing my eyes closed as I try and gather my mental energy. I had been in such a good mood today, and now? I’m going to stab my squadron leader to death.

“To try and see the dragons?” I ask patiently, heaving a sigh.

After joining squadron thirteen and Eagan exposing the fact I have five dragons imprinted on me, they had gone looking for the dragons to see for themselves what they would be like. I don’t think they expected the dragons to camouflage and refuse to show themselves. Even Eagan was distressed by this, but I’m still uneasy about the dragons being used for battle. They may be huge, their juvenile scales now gone and replaced by shimmering adult scales, but they still play hide and seek, hide my things when I visit, and currently? They like to hunt down Axel, Linden, Hugo, and Eagan, stealing their things and tripping them up.

They especially hate Eagan.

Axel gives a sheepish look, but he’s torn between his loyalty to Eagan and his fondness of me.

“Eagan got thrown in the lake,” he admits, and then smiles, “And then dunked like a biscuit multiple times.”

The dragons really, really hate Eagan.

“We can expect him to be in an even worse mood than usual then,” I conclude, rubbing my temples.

I can feel a migraine threatening, as Eagan will, as per usual, come home in his defeat, warning me about how if the dragons continue to refuse cooperation, then our cause is lost as a squadron, and we’ll never find respect or viability to be a decent, strong unit. Despite how Axel and Hugo are a powerhouse on the field, and Linden is a mastermind of tactics, paired with my strong practical magic, Eagan is never happy.

He's never happy, largely because of me, but we’ve never talked about it.

Axel disappears to wash up, and I begin the long tedious walk towards the lake where Eagan is no doubt muttering angrily nearby. We’ve begun a strange and irksome avoidant kind of relationship, leaving each other to our own devices, but where the dragons are concerned, I can’t leave him to be bullied by giant scaly puppies. They’re my giant scaly puppies, and I am responsible for them.

Crossing the fields and taking the winding path down I make my way into the shadowy cusp of trees. The air is still, fragrant with heavy damp, moss, and bark. Peering into the treeline, I wait, knowing that the dragons will be waiting for me. They’re not daft. They like making trouble because they know I can’t ignore the trouble they cause.

In our defence, Reoa says to my left, He looked really annoying again, and then he started muttering at us. I may have cheered Gulynia with the lake dunking, but only because I am the most supportive of sisters.

Sighing, I turn, and the air ripples.

Reoa is a brown and green dragon with scorching golden eyes. They are the largest dragon out of the five, with a wide, thick neck connecting to a small and sharply pointed face. They have four horns formed in a mane that reaches over their head. She’s large, but she’s more of a spectator than an initiator. I reach for her chin, unable to stop the quirk of my lips.

“So he came over, said some things, and Gulynia dunked him while you cheered?”

Reoa narrows her eyes.

You make it sound so ill-deserved, she chides, stretching much like a cat would, Gulynia hates the guy for a reason. We all do.

I grimace, because they are incredibly supportive and defensive of me, to the point of giving Eagan a challenging time due to our, ahem, failed coupling. After the terrible event, the morning after they smelt him even after my bath, and I had to have a profoundly serious yet censored conversation with them about what happened. There’s no point lying to them. They know how animals mount other animals and why, and I refuse to lie to them when they can smell everything.

“He is still my squadron leader, and I need to maintain my professionalism,” I tell her sternly.

There’s a snort behind me. Gulynia.

Didn’t stop you from-

“Not another word,” I hiss, my cheeks heating, “I have to live with my mistake, but I will not have it thrown in my face.”

Gulynia slinks lower to the ground. She’s all beige sandy tones and earthy brown, and unlike Reoa, she’s long and graceful, serpentine, and snakelike with short limbs perfect for scurrying. I’ve researched dragon types with a blind curiosity, and the closest I can find that resembles her is a knucker, but she’s much too large for a knucker. She’s huge, winding and has an incredibly shrewd and judgemental expression.

Wow, sorry. Didn’t know you were butthurt about it.

I regard her carefully. She’s the most ill-mannered and sassy, but it doesn’t stop me being fiercely protective.

“I’m keeping you safe,” I try again, trying to gather the shreds of my sanity, “You’re too young to fight. I don’t particularly want you to fight. I’ve kept you secret, protected you and tried my best to be what you need me to be. It would be nice if you would be a little more of what I need you to be now, which is not troublesome, and not making my squadron leader hate me more than he already does.”

Reoa and Gulynia share an uneasy look, unsettled. I’ve not raised my voice at them much. Never really needed to. I’ve always been happy, supportive, and patient, but I feel those qualities slipping away from me. I may be amazing at practical magic, or at least fluent and at ease with it, but the longer my dragons make trouble, the more pressure and anxiety I feel regarding Eagan.

He sees the failing of the squad as my fault because I’m not ordering my dragons around like a commander. He doesn’t understand. They are neither soldiers nor creatures under his command. They can disregard him and go about their day, acting according to their own will with justifiable autonomy. These beings exist independently, and their origin, struck by lightning, does not determine their fate. Superstition dictates that they should be cast into peril at human behest, yet dragons do not engage in warfare as humans do.

“I’m tired,” I overexplain, guilt stricken, “We’ve been on nothing but patrol and escorting missions for the entire year, and it was not what any of us had envisioned. We’re battling our own expectations.”

Reoa cocks her head, a habit of hers when she’s listening intently, and Gulynia stares, unblinking.

“So,” I clap my hands together, taking a deep breath, “Where’s Eagan?”

Gulynia ducks her head, tail flicking with irritation at the mention of his name.

At the lake with Versil and Shienon. He’s resilient and it’s bothering me.

I don’t comment, because even though I explain he’s a dragon morph, she cannot accept that this makes him powerful and harder to kill, so she likes and detests testing his durability.

They ripple into thin air, camouflaging effortlessly with ease, and I set off again, my headache pounding around my eyeballs with a vengeance. The woods are deceptively calm as I move through them. I know every nook and cranny. Every herb, flower, mushroom, and root to be picked. Every hidden spot.

I know the trees are the biggest gossips, acting like prying elderly neighbours looking for news and information. Nosy tendrils of roots and branches stretch towards me as I walk, seeking to hear of anything interesting. It used to unnerve me, but now I chatter mindlessly to the trees, telling them stories about my day or Everlette Academy. Today I grace them with my worries over the upcoming Arcane Symphony Ball, where Everlette Academy is hosting this year, and other academy students from all over will attend. Professor Chambers is hounding me to join in somehow with my magic, but I’m wary. Other squadrons are eager for the opportunity, and Professor Chambers clear like for me is earning me more glares than usual.

It wouldn’t be that bad if that were all, but even Professor Oaklore is hounding me, so I’m the most disliked student at Everlette Academy now.

“I don’t even want to go,” I mutter to the trees, “I don’t wear dresses, and I don’t want trouble. The Arcane Symphony Ball has both those things.”

There’s a crunch of a twig, and I clutch my knife at my hip out of habit, before seeing Eagan come into view.

Annoyingly, he’s as lickable as ever.

His raven black hair is longer now, more roguish. He’s also soaked, so his usual all black attire is clinging to all parts of him in a delicious display of yum. My breath feels shallow as he approaches, all burgundy smoulder and pissed off. Somehow, I like his anger. It feels justified somehow, though I won’t ever admit it. I’m not meant to feel guilty, ashamed or anything, but I do. I feel unsure, anxious, and embarrassed about it all. I feel like he’s been far more indifferent and able to move on than I expected, and it irks me that I’m still stuck on what happened.

“Margo,” he greets, eyes narrowed, “I see you’ve come to talk to them. Again. On my behalf no doubt.”

I shrug, feigning indifference, but I feel stiff and unnatural.

“As I should. They are my responsibility,” I respond, averting my eyes.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Silence falls between us, as it always does. I force myself to look at him, to pretend I’m not still thinking about what he felt like inside me. Or how often I think about it. At what I should have said or done instead. That I should have just looked at him without issue, losing myself to the throes of passion or whatever shit people always whisper about.

“Well, Versil and Shienon were with you,” I babble, “Bamer is somewhere, but I’ve already spoken to Reoa and Gulynia.”

Eagan doesn’t move. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.

“Which one dunked me?”

I smile blandly, my eyes a little hard with warning.

“I will not say.”

His eyes observe me, taking me in with a slow languid keenness that makes me shrivel up. I’m wearing my usual blue embroidered shirt with long sleeves, and my tatty trousers and leather boots. I look practical and sensible, but when he looks at me like that, I want to look like someone else entirely.

“Professor Chambers wants you again,” he finally says, his tone measured, “Something about the firework display he wants you to orchestrate.”

My smile vanishes.

The firework display is a prominent feature of the Arcane Symphony Ball and is renowned throughout the history of Everlette Academy for being the most grandiose and impressive event of the evening. The academy aims to showcase its prestige and superiority over other institutions through this spectacular presentation. Appointing me, rather than the child of a significant sponsor, could cause considerable discontent among not only the students but also their influential parents.

“You’re the only one fluent enough to achieve it,” he tells me, eyeing my expression, “If you can magic up a banquet for us every night, do the dorm repairs, and magic things out of thin air, you can make fireworks- “

I press my lips firmly together, trying not to acknowledge that both Versil and Shienon are either side of him, completely camouflaged apart from their giant floating heads. They look similar, but Versil is more silver-blue whereas Shienon is silver-lilac and paler, and they are currently giving me their best wild-eyed stares with massive snarling grins. Sucking in my cheeks to keep from laughing, Eagan gives me a sidelong look.

“Are you laughing at me?”

I shake my head slowly.

“Nope. Not at all. Please, continue,” I manage to say, but then snort when Versil unrolls his long tongue out, shaking his head dramatically, his scales fluttering.

Eagan stares at me. It occurs to me that he’s probably never had a woman laugh at him. As a dragon morph, he’s had to endure comments and unfair treatment, but women usually melt under his eyes like butter under dragon fire. I can see I’ve stumped him, because instead of saying anything further he gives me a bewildered look and walks away, striding past me with agitation etched across his features.

Versil and Shienon ripple into being once he’s moved far enough away, looking gleefully unaware of my annoyance. The two of them are the pranksters of the five, majestic and divine looking in theory, but complete gremlins.

He’s been coming to the lake more often than usual, Versil comments deftly, avoiding my glare, we’ve been eagerly awaiting to try new things, but the circumstances need to be right.

Very true, the context is most important. It must work perfectly. A perfect sequence, Shienon pipes up, unfurling her wings excitedly, how about we chase him again?

“No one is chasing anyone,” I shout, “Gods, this stress is going to make me bald.”

You wouldn’t look good bald, Shienon gasps, drawing back, you must meditate immediately, in the lake. Where Eagan got dunked.

How do you even discipline a dragon?

I look up at Versil and Shienon, an idea forms, and I splay my hands out, hoping to the gods their magic won’t cancel out mine. They tilt their heads, amused, and confused, before I mutter a simplified incantation that I’ve overheard Linden use on his sisters when they’ve been unruly. I mind map how to weave the spell, focusing on infusing the layers to strengthen a shield to withhold them.

Versil gives me a stunned look, his head weaving in quarrel.

You can’t do that! We’re free beings!

“You are free beings,” I agree, suppressing my guilt, “But you've caused trouble. You're in time-out for fifteen minutes to reflect on why you shouldn't worsen things with Eagan or prank people.”

Shienon lets out an indignant wail, tail lashing against the shield. It simply glistens and ripples, iridescent and unaffected.

Then what about Gulynia? She challenges, her silvery-blue eyes pinning me, does she get to be caged?

“Don’t make this sound abusive, you’ve literally been naughty, come on!” I huff, and then pause, my eyes adjusting to the shadow looming towards us.

My senses tingle, and I drop my hands, the spell fading into a thin mist over the forest floor. I hear the branches slithering and coiling in the canopy overhead and in the soil below, an eerie sound as the shadow takes form as a man in the distance.

Versil and Shienon disappear, melting into the air, but they’re nearby.

“I thought I was the only one in the woods,” calls the man, and my ears prick with awareness that his voice is deep chocolate velvet, all smooth tones and sleepy amorousness.

My eyes narrow as he steps out the shadows.

He’s a dragon morph, but no one I’ve ever seen. I take in the glorious bronze-gold curls that coil about his shoulders, and the deeply tanned skin, blemish free. He’s taller than Eagan, broader and more hulking, but with a disarming smile of white teeth and gleaming golden eyes.

Smiling as he is, I’m still trying to pinpoint why my magic is recoiling from him as though repulsed. He’s certainly not as dark and serious as Eagan, but I feel like I can’t trust him.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Radon Glimmerfell, I’m a first-year student looking for the other dragon morph. Your squadron leader, Eagan Maverick,” he tells me, cheery despite my unease, “I want to be friends and hopefully get accepted into squadron thirteen when the time comes.”

“For a first-year you’re built like a shithouse,” I comment frankly, “Why doesn’t my magic like you?”

He blinks, smile still in place but frozen now.

His smile drops a beat later, and his once cheery face becomes hard and annoyed. Ah. Of course. I hear Versil and Shienon inch closer, their bodies radiating heat as they step between me and Radon. Even the trees wind their branches towards him in a slithering warning, their movement hissing through the undergrowth. Radon observes with an impatient scowl.

“Okay,” he snarls, his handsome face contorting, “Fine. You’re not as dumb as I was hoping. We’re here for the dragons. Dragons should be with the bloodlines they blessed, and so should be with the dragon morphs. We need them. What would a fae like you be able to do with them? Keep them safe?”

He pulls a face, opening his mouth to continue, but I hold a hand up.

“We?” I question, “We’re here for the dragons, you said?”

He cocks his head to the side.

“Did you really think you could have them?” he laughs, “Keep them away from their nature? They’re lightning struck. They are meant for greater things.”

Sensing where this is heading, I don’t bother to explain they’re protected. I don’t argue that I’ve cared for them since freshly hatched next to their dead mother. I don’t mention they’ve imprinted on me because he knows those things. He knows, and that’s why he lied before, and that’s why he wanted Eagan.

“How do you plan to steal them?” I ask instead.

I sound calmer than I look. I can feel the tremor running through my fingers, and I can feel his eyes narrow on the pulse pounding in my neck.

“We gave him a year to convince you. Gave him time. Then, suddenly, he tells us he can’t join our cause anymore,” Radon tells me, a smile growing when he sees he’s struck a nerve, “Oh, baby girl. Did you really think that night was meant to be special? He was using you for us- “

Versil growls in warning, silencing him, and Shienon whips her tail at the space just before his feet. Radon’s eyes widen, his body frozen as he scans the air around him, searching for the very dragons he means to take from me.

“That night was never meant to be special,” I sigh, glaring at him, “I’m very aware that I was the one girl in the dorm that could scratch the itch. You mean to tell me he went in heat on purpose, just to fuck me and use me to get access to my dragons?”

Radon’s gaze whips up to mine.

“What do you mean, he went into heat?”

I don’t answer, because Versil and Shienon have both shifted. Versil rests his tail on my shoulder, like a comforting pat.

He was in heat?

Not wanting to answer aloud in front of Radon, I give a brief nod. I had not included that part in our conversations because it did not seem necessary. I was available and interested, so I tried to accommodate it, but I am aware that I failed and caused discomfort over the past year. I chose not to add details that might portray me negatively. We are all informed about how uncomfortable heat can be and advised to avoid dragon morphs during such times. The academy provides stabilisers as a precaution.

Radon makes a noise of dismay, swearing colourfully.

“That makes more fucking sense. Fucking…you,” he hisses, pointing, “Did he come to you?”

Flustered, my mouth opens and offers silence, but he takes it as confirmation.

“And you fucked?”

Versil and Shienon growl again, but Radon barely acknowledges it this time, more intent on discovering the ins and out of my sexual encounter with Eagan.

"We started," I say, losing my composure, "It wasn't completed, per se."

He pales, causing my sense of guilt and embarrassment to intensify significantly. He regards me in a manner I imagine others would if they were aware of the situation, with astonished confusion. It seems inevitable that he will eventually feel repulsed. Everyone will be repulsed if they knew. That I offered to help Eagan Maverick through his heat and completely, utterly messed it up.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter angrily, but Radon laughs again.

“Oh, we are talking about it. He was in heat with you, and it was never finished? Do you know what that means? What that means for our cause?”

I’m lost and confused, embarrassed and wanting nothing more than to disappear.

“Well, I’m not talking about it, and my dragons can eat you now, unless you, you know, fuck off and leave me and my sexual past alone, thank you very much!” I shout.

Versil and Shienon ripple out of their camouflage, eyeing me with a strange intensity I have never seen them wear before.

Yeah, no, we’re taking you to Eagan, Versil tells me, flicking his tail and flinging Radon back, there is a lot for us to apologise for.

I barely have time to register what is happening before Shienon flings me over onto her back, giving a short command to hold on. I grip onto her horns, throwing my head back to where Radon had landed. The roots are claiming him, pulling him deep into the soil, and I shudder with unease. There are worse deaths than becoming plant food, but it’s still pretty shitty.

Dragons don’t much like the winding vines and thorns of brambles and shrubbery, so Versil blasts a path of scorching fire in front as Shienon and I follow from behind. I grimace at the embers, but I can hear the trees knitting things back into place as we move forward.

“Can anyone explain to me what’s going on?” I ask Shienon, adjusting my grasp on her scales.

She continues to plough ahead, though her long tail slaps lightly on my thigh in acknowledgment before she finally answers.

Eagan was in heat with you and you only. It never stopped. We thought he was having a tough time with someone else, as sometimes we get that scent, but no. It is you. You’re hi. ate.

My hands tighten on her scales, at a loss.

Bullshit. I call steaming hot, rancid bullshit.

Eagan Maverick could not have me as his mate. Hot, serious, and dangerous Eagan, with me, clumsy, bland, and forgettable? It doesn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense when he approached me to begin with, and I thought his heat was activated by stress, not me being a suitable mate. It makes no sense.

Shienon taps my thigh with her tail again.

You okay there?

I shake my head, silent as my thoughts run rampant.

Is that why they’re bringing me to him? Do they want us together because his heat demands it?

Debating with myself over my new circumstances, I hardly notice as we exit the forest until Reoa and Gulynia are beside us, keeping pace as Versil and Shienon provide the relevant information. Gulynia rears her head back, running easily on two legs as she shakes her entire body, her scales rippling with the movement before she flumps down again, her mouth a displeased snarl.

So, we’re stuck with the bastard, she huffs, casting me a sidelong look, How you holding up with the whole chosen mate thing?

I stare at her mutely, shaking my head.

The gravity of my revelation is hitting me at different intervals. Disbelief. Denial. Embarrassment to learn that something so precious and held as sacred was ruined for him, because I was too flustered by a bit of eye contact. I’m also confused.

Radon mentioned a cause that required the use of my dragons, and that Eagan had refused to join their cause. The original plan was to use me and my dragons all along. The heat simply got in the way of that, complicating the process. I complicated something, thankfully, or else where would we be right now if I fell to his charms and my dragons were taken, but to think that’s what he was going to do originally? I feel betrayed and foolish all at once.

He had originally planned to use me.

His room near mine? It wasn’t for the practical purpose of keeping an eye on us all because of the fucking stairs. It was to seduce me and fuck me. To brainwash me into helpless dicked joy in the hopes of taking them from me. When he had knocked on my door that night, he was still reeling from discovering his heat had been triggered by my scent. He knocked on my door in the hopes it played in his favour.

“I don’t want to see him.”

Shienon throws a look at me from over her shoulder, and upon seeing my expression slows to a trot, before finally stopping altogether. The others look back, impatient to hurry to my mate, but I shake my head.

I can’t look at him. To think I was only a means to an end, despite being his mate. He knocked on my door and knew everything. He knew what he wanted to achieve. It’s worse than me agreeing to sleep with him to help ease his symptoms. He wanted to use our bond against me to get what he wanted.

“We don’t know what this cause is that Radon ranted about,” I begin, “All we know is originally he meant to take you from me.”

Reoa nudges my foot lightly, her narrow face looming towards me, insistent.

But then he refused.

“But how can we trust him?” I counter, unconvinced.

We still into a deep silence, unsure where this leaves us.

I can see that the dragon in them wants to fulfil the heat of a dragon morph because it’s their natural order of things, but they are conflicted with their loyalty to me.

“And where’s Bamer?” I ask softly.

I haven’t seen him for the entire day.

He’s the quietest of the dragons. He mulls over his words, takes time to think and deliberate, and is a bit of an old soul.

My question, however, is answered when in the distance, I see a glimmer of bronze erupt into the sky, met with a flash of deep magenta. Stunned, we watch. My fists clench onto Shienon’s scales, expecting the worst, but as they near, I see that Bamer is flying alongside a dragon I have never seen before. She’s long and wiry like Gulynia, with a flash of azure colouring splayed over her underbelly and back. Her horns are short, but over the frill of her neck, is Eagan.

My eyes do not leave his, my body stiff with trepidation, expecting anything.

He looks worse for wear, still damp from earlier, but this time grimy with dirt and sweat. His eyes flicker over us, looking for something or someone.

“Radon is dead,” I call out, observing his reaction, “The roots took him.”

Eagan looks bewildered, his gaze flashing over me quickly, before catching my eyes and realisation sets in. Stilling, he looks away immediately.

“I knew you’d find out eventually. I just wished you wouldn’t,” he says softly, glancing at the large female dragon beside Bamer. “I wanted to celebrate their bond with you first, but I sense you’re not thrilled to be my mate.”

I look at the female dragon, my suspicions confirmed.

“So, you’ve had a secret dragon mated to mine, and didn’t think to mention anything earlier?”

I look at Bamer, but he says nothing.

“Her name is Tanmehga,” he says sternly, but then sighs in defeat, “I had hoped it would soften you towards me.”

I compose myself with considerable effort, suppressing my initial surge of anger.

“You mean after you meant to use me to get to my dragons, by sleeping with me?” I offer bitterly, giving him a chilled smile, “By using me. You wanted to use me.”

Eagan doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t get a chance to.

There’s an explosion up ahead, from our dormitory, causing our gazes to swing up and over the hill.