Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 126358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
I shook my head. I’d heard my father talk about his time at the Academy many times, but he hadn’t really spoken much about the geography of the dormant volcano that housed it.
“Well, there are. We’re standing on the lowest level—the Receiving Bowl,” Jorn-o said, his voice taking on a lecturing quality. “Anyone can come here—it’s open to the public. But the rest of the Academy is strictly for the professors and cadets who live here.”
“What’s up those stairs?” I asked, nodding at the polished stone steps at the far end of the vast bowl-like area we were standing in.
“The Assembly Hall—it’s technically still part of the first level,” Jorn-o told me. “They the second level is where we’ll be living—that’s for the cadet’s quarters, the mess hall where we eat, communal baths—”
“Wait a minute—communal baths? As in…everyone taking a bath together?” I felt my heart turn to a stone in my chest.
“Well, sure—it’s not a big deal.” Jorn-o shrugged.
It absolutely was a big deal to me.
“How many people are we, uh, bathing with?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Jorn-o frowned, as though he thought it was odd I should ask, but answered anyway.
“You know—whoever’s in your dorm. First-years are put into dormitories, about twenty boys to a dorm. They all share a necessary room and eat at the same table, that kind of thing.”
“So…you’re saying there’s no privacy? None at all?” I asked, my voice going high on the last word.
“What do you want privacy for? How can you get to know the cadets in your class if you don’t live with them?” Jorn-o asked. “You have to be able to trust the riders in your group when you’re in formation and you have to know them if you’re going to trust them.”
“I just…I’m used to having my own bedroom and bathing room, that’s all,” I muttered, wondering what I was going to do.
“Well, you only have to be in the dorms for your First-year,” Jorn-o told me. “Second-years get roommates and Third and Fourth years get their own rooms. And Wing Leaders, of course—they get their own rooms as well. Of course the professors get a room to themselves that’s right next to the cave their dragon lives in.”
“That’s all very well, but a year is a long time to live in a dorm with twenty boys,” I muttered. How in the world was I going to manage this? It had never occurred to me that I wouldn’t have my own room at the Academy. Why hadn’t I thought of this?
“If you’re shy, don’t worry about making friends,” Jorn-o said, clearly mistaking the source of my anxiety. “You’ll get along fine—you’re a Lysandra, after all. Auren Lysandra—right?”
I frowned.
“How did you know my name? Did your father tell you he was going to get me?”
Jorn-o shook his head.
“Just said he was going to collect a candidate from an ancient and remote Great House. But look at you…” He gestured at me with one hand. “I mean, that blonde hair and those pale purple eyes? Nobody but a Lysandra has such coloring. You’re probably the most recognizable Great House of any of them. Well, besides the Skorens, of course,” he added. “But they stand out for other reasons.”
“They do? How?” I asked.
Jorn-o shrugged.
“You’ll understand when you see one. Anyway, be careful of them—they have short tempers. Not that you’ll probably run into any as a First-year cadet. The upperclassmen mostly keep to themselves. Well, except in the Mess Hall and during Mating Flights,” he added and then looked troubled.
His words reminded me of what his father had said, and I was about to question him further when a loud baritone voice rang out.
“New recruits! Listen up and pay attention!”
Everyone stopped what they were doing and conversations died away as all eyes turned towards the voice.
I didn’t know it then, but my fate was sealed the moment I saw the cadet who was speaking.
6
AURORA
The deep baritone voice belonged to a tall, well-built cadet with broad shoulders and thick, black hair pulled back to the nape of his neck. There was something strange about his eyes, but I couldn’t tell what it was from this distance. The sunlight danced across his temples and high cheekbones in a way that made me think he was wearing some kind of jewelry, which was odd since any kind of facial jewelry was strictly forbidden at the Academy. A cadet couldn’t even have his ear pierced—let alone anything more exotic.
“Oh—that’s Ryse Skoren now,” Jorn-o muttered to me. “Better listen up and do as he says—he’s the North Wing’s Wing Leader. He flies a Midnight Gold-wing, you know,” he added, with a touch of awe in his voice.
I did remember my father talking about the four different formations of dragons, each named for a different point of the compass. He’d said that once the Academy had housed forty full formations of dragons, but as fewer female dragons were born and fewer eggs were laid, fewer riders were needed. Now there were only four formations or “Wings” left. It was a good thing all the Madlings had been killed years ago—the Old Drake didn’t house enough riders to take care of them now.