Wings In Flames (Weir Dragon Academy Book 3) by D. R. Perry

Author:D. R. Perry [Perry, D. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2023-12-05T00:00:00+00:00

Classes were all review sessions, covering so much material my head swam. Rec didn’t feel like a break. It was all crunch time and scrambling toward deadlines. A cacophony of mingled songs between cheer, Dance, Music, and the spring musical filled the dorm proper. Thank goodness I had the studio to finish and frame my three pieces for the gallery show.

Study halls replaced town trips with after-dinner sessions tacked on. Tom kindly sent over thermal boxes of coffee via La Grange. We made good use of them since Mr. Poinsettia made exceptions for caffeinated beverages at the central tables during cram time. Provided we kept them in containers with covers.

On the Thursday night before Primrose Week, I headed to the basement media center to fetch some extra scratch paper. Petrichor had me drilling lab math for magiscience, and we’d run out upstairs. In the stairwell, I heard whispered voices hiss and paused, unsure whether intruding was appropriate.

“Submit or suffer, swan.”

“Submit? To you? I thought you were smarter than that, meaner one.”

“I meant to him. In the manner I demanded, as you promised and lied about.”

“Sorry, I changed my mind about that.”

“If you break your word, I keep mine.”

“At least I'll have my integrity.”

“Wait and see. I’d wager that goes up in flames immediately after you lose everything else.”

Sulfurous fumes slithered up the stairs. I put my hand over my mouth, desperate to silence my cough. Every ounce of focus and determination I had went toward that effort.

I failed.

The odor vanished in half a heartbeat. The door below creaked, and footsteps on the stairs followed. I closed my eyes, fear like ice in my veins as I awaited whatever monster had gotten the better end of Sophia’s bargain. The scent of dried primroses lifted my spirits and my eyelids.

Sophia stood two steps below me with her upper lip curled and nose wrinkled. A sachet of potpourri sat on her upturned palm.

“Out of my way, village idiot!”

I pressed my back against the wall, and she stomped past me up and out of the stairwell. A strange, fearless sensation came over me as though Sophia’s terror had taken mine with it. I paced down the stairs, confident as a lioness sauntering and surveying her territorial plane.

The media center held various equipment and supplies, even my nearly forgotten scratch paper. Nothing and no one else lingered save a sprinkle of dust or ash in the far corner I’d almost mistaken for a shadow.

Giving that a wide berth, I grabbed a handful of the paper I’d come for and left, measuring my pace with that imagined lioness in mind, although the courage she’d brought me had already fled.

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