“You’ve done very well,” Zo Rienna told Alisa as the final month of classes commenced. “Azendandor has showed a remarkable improvement these past weeks.”

Alisa nodded. "I've made a deal with him."

"What kind of deal?"

"To help him practice magic."

She didn't want to mention giving him the school stylus, or the fact that she agreed to let him try a mage bond on her. She vividly remembered the quetzlen's erratic and violent behavior after the mis-drawn bond drove it mad, and the thought of something like that happening to her made her incredibly uncomfortable.

Alisa felt sure Zo Rienna and the other teachers would forbid it if they found out, but she’d promised Zen and both of them were too stubborn. Neither would concede to the teachers’ demands, and therefore there was no point in getting them involved at all.

“He’s quickly overcoming his weaknesses,” said the dragon tutor. She smiled, but Alisa thought she seemed oddly attentive. “I’ve never seen such a stubborn dragon change his ways so fast.”

“I’m helping him. This is important for him to know, and it matters a lot.”

“Excellent. I’m so glad to hear it.” Zo paused, then lowered her voice. “How are you doing?”

“Me? Fine. Why?”

“You’re the only one to have waited so long to bond him, and there are stories. You’re not… being influenced unduly, are you?”

“Me? By Zen? No.” Alisa shrugged. “Well, his moods do bleed over into mine sometimes, but we’re getting better at spotting it when it happens and get it under control. Nothing dangerous.”

“Good, good. If you have any problems, please come to me at once.”

“I don’t. Why would I have problems?” But now Alisa felt defensive, like Zo was trying to trap her into saying something she shouldn’t.

“I tell the same thing to anyone. And though you don’t seem worried, any dramatic change in behavior is cause for concern. Just be careful.”

“We’ll be fine, thanks.”

They went over a few more basic health things - how much Zen had been eating and when, how often he was shedding scales and how many at a time, whether his ridge spines were still growing longer - and then Alisa was permitted to leave. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that Zo Rienna remained unsatisfied with her answers.

There was no reason to feel guilty about it. It wasn’t anyone’s business but her and Zen.

“Zen, you haven’t been practicing where anyone else could see you, right?” Alisa asked next time he came by. “With the stylus, I mean?”

’I am a student here as much as anyone,’ Zen said defiantly. ’It is my right to practice magic. They even demand it of me.’

“Oh no, Zen… please tell me you’re joking.” Sudden visions of Zen, puffed up and bragging to his friends, showing off his stylus that none of them had… other dragons begging their mages for the chance… it could all spiral dreadfully out of control.

Zen sensed the direction of her fears and laughed. ’No, don’t fear, I would not do such a thing. I understand that it would complicate our lives. I may not understand why we should pay enough attention to rules and conventions, but I do understand that when ignoring them we should be cautious not to be seen doing so.’

“I’ve never heard of a rule against bonded dragons casting spells,” Alisa said, though she felt sure if she looked she would find a lot of restrictions she formerly didn’t know about.

’Then do you want me to stop hiding my practice from the others?'

"No! Please, no. I..." She tried to convince herself they weren't doing anything wrong. "Just, until we either do it or you give up, let's not get anyone but Tay involved."

'I won't give up.' Zen's mental voice held an uncommon weight of certainty. For a dragon who spent half the time trying to spy on workers to understand the intricacies of washing dirty laundry, he was taking this one subject surprisingly seriously. 'It isn't surprising. I care for you a great deal.'

"Do you really?" Alisa wondered. "Would you, if we weren't bonded?"

'Do not concern yourself with might-beens.' Zen huffed a plume of smoke and undulated his middle sections closer, perhaps unconsciously forming himself into a barrier around her.

He was so huge now, it was hard to believe he couldn't pick her up and fly away with her, but Aelaniri were fragile and light. His four wings strained to lift himself alone sometimes, and adding Alisa's weight would altogether ground him.

"I'm sorry I spent so long only tolerating you," she said. "If I'd known you then like I do now, everything would have been different."

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'I do not want it to be different,' Zen said defiantly. 'I want you exactly as you are.'

"Even with all my weakness and stupid indecision?"

'Yes. Even then.'

There was a moment's silence between them, then, 'I have almost made it work.'

"The bond?" She wasn't sure when she'd switched from thinking of it as improbable to inevitable, but Zen's attitude of hesitance had transformed so completely to unflinching determination that she couldn't quite muster the emotion to refute him.

'Yes. I can push magic through the drawing-light and make it do as I desire. But it is not quite perfect. It must be perfect.'

And she knew then that he'd picked up on her worry over a wrongly-drawn bond, and would do everything in his power to prevent anything from going wrong.

"I trust you, Zen. If you still think you can do this, then I'll help you."

'Soon. Not tomorrow but soon. I will bring Tay when it is time.'

Alisa knocked on Sadie's door. It was the first time; they never knocked, only barged in, but she'd never visited Sadie's house and the casual camaraderie of sharing neighboring dorm rooms felt out of place when they each had their own house to themselves.

Mirva snorted at her from where she lay in her nest under the awning in the dragon yard adjacent to Sadie's house. The browning had grown, less dramatically than Zen, packing in muscle and weight instead of elongating. Mirva could run for hours at a full sprint, could carry two riders with ease, and would stand taller than Alisa by half.

"Ye— Alisa!" Sadie smiled, and before Alisa could think of what to say she'd been wrapped in a hug, and was returning it tightly. She wasn't quite sure why she was crying.

"Sorry," Alisa mumbled. "I didn't know what to say."

"It's my fault," Sadie said, laughing. "You were..." then she shook her head and pulled away. "Not here. Let's go out somewhere we can talk privately."

"The copse?"

Sadie nodded and whistled. "Mirva!"

Mirva flew over the fence and landed in front of the house.

"Come on," Sadie said. She climbed up a mounting block Alisa hadn't noticed, tucked by the side of the house, then jumped on Mirva's back and held her hand out. "We'll be there in no time."

Mirva waited until they were settled, then took a running start and leapt into the air.

Wind blasted into Alisa's face in a rush, and she gasped and laughed, clinging tight to Sadie's back. Mirva circled the academy, the buildings looking strange and unlike themselves from so far up, then settled into a steady rhythm as they crossed the city toward the Preparatory Academy grounds.

The copse wasn't technically part of precad land, but a public park within walking distance. It had a reputation for being haunted, which Alisa and Sadie had discovered in their second year of precad actually could be attributed to a rare naturally-occurring spell created by the trees in the area. The flow of their inner energy mimicked a spellcaster so thoroughly that a constant sound-distortion effect was created around them.

Though they'd researched the phenomenon quite thoroughly, they'd found no other trees that did the same thing. Alisa speculated the cause was some historic local disaster that twisted the growing trees in this area specifically, so only those of this specific type in this specific area manifested the effect.

Regardless of how or why, the copse offered a perfect place to hold private discussions or secret planning meetings for making trouble.

Mirva landed carefully, curving her neck and tail around to form steps down. Alisa hesitated, but Sadie took her hand and helped her down as though this were entirely ordinary.

Once they were safely within the trees, distorted voices echoing eerily around them, Alisa found a moss-covered log to sit on while Sadie leaned back against a tree trunk.

"It's nice to see you're doing better," Sadie said, breaking the strangely awkward silence.

"What happened?" Alisa asked. "Why is... this so different now? It's like I stopped paying attention for a few weeks and then everything changed."

Sadie glanced away. "It's not your fault. I... couldn't. You know? The Traitor and the dragons and all of it, and..."

Alisa heard a catch in Sadie's voice and realized her friend was crying.

"I'm sorry, Alisa, I shouldn't have— I just couldn't take it."

"Take what?"

"You, your... I'm sorry. But you... I can't— I just couldn't. It was all too much."

"That's okay," Alisa said, her tone almost turning it into a question. "I didn't have time for you either, but after..."

Sadie shook her head. "You've always had these... moods, where you withdraw and get... empty, almost? And before, I could usually see them coming and distract you before they got too bad. This time, it was..." she trailed off, and Alisa nodded in sudden understanding.

"It wasn't your fault. It's my problem, my job to manage myself, and... like you said, it was all too much, and I couldn't either."

Sadie hiccuped a laugh. "We're such a mess, aren't we?"

"Yeah."

Sadie wiped at her face, then nodded. "There. No more dancing around it and avoiding things. I let you fall apart and then couldn't bear to face you. But you didn't need me after all, and put it all back together just fine. So there's nothing to feel bad about."

Her voice had a forced tone that made Alisa sure she was trying to convince herself, but she didn't try to refute the words. They'd spent too much time apart as it was.

"Hey, Sadie," she said suddenly. "Tay is going to be setting up a chance for me to test into the 3rd year for next year so I can graduate sooner. Do you want to—"

Sadie shook her head. "No. You go ahead, I know it means a lot to you. But... I'm done trying to keep up with you." She laughed. "That sounds wrong. But... you know I just wanted to be like you, right? But now, with Mirva, I can finally see who I could be on my own. I don't need to try to be the smartest any longer. I can be a dragon rider, and I can do it well without wasting hours poring over dusty obscure arcane trivia. I'm... I'm sorry that I had to abandon you to figure it out, but I'm finally happy with who I could become."

Alisa nodded. "We'll still be friends, right?"

"Of course. Always. That won't ever change. But we don't... don't have to wrap our whole lives up in each other any more."

"Yeah," Alisa said, thinking of Reen and Zen and even Tay. "You're right. This was probably for the best." She tried to imagine a life where she'd held onto Sadie, where they'd both continued along Alisa's path, instead of diverging. And as much as she hated to admit it, Francine wasn't entirely wrong. Sadie wasn't academically brilliant, was barely passable. Her strengths lay elsewhere, and trying to force her into Alisa's mold would have been detrimental to them both.

"Thanks for coming over," Sadie said. "I never knew how to approach you after I'd abandoned you so suddenly." Then her eyes gleamed with mischief. "Want to plot one more time, to wrap up the year? A grand finale to show Prancy Francy we haven't forgiven or forgotten?"

Alisa laughed. "Sure. One last plot before our paths diverge again.”

By the time they returned to the academy, their plan still had a few holes for Alisa to work out, but nothing she couldn’t figure out. It would be spectacular.

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