Page 19 of Creatures of War

Chapter Eleven

The teacher stood at the front of the class, looking stern as he regarded us slowly. He was a middle-aged, soft-looking guy with glasses that were a bit small for his face. He also had a shaved head. He just stood there for a long time, staring back at us and seeming extremely unimpressed with us. I felt like I was being judged right then and there. My back still ached, so I sat stiffly. The older man sighed, running a hand over his bare scalp.

“Right. Well welcome. This will be your history class as riders. I’m sure you’ve taken classes before about the state of the world and our country back at home, but this class isn’t that. Here, we will talk in depth about who you are as riders, what has happened in the past in regards to the riders, dragons, and even the Fae. I’m here to prepare you for the kind of world that is out there, and so you’ll understand why it’s in the state that it is.”

Very quickly, I realized our teacher liked to hear himself talk. He had no interest in us. In fact, he seemed bored by us, more interested in the content he had to share instead.

I zoned out, trying to send messages to the guys but still getting nothing from them. I was tempted to rest my head and go back to sleep, but the ache in my spine and knowing I was in class kept me sitting up.

“…important lore wrapped in questions. It happened so long ago, that it is hard to understand the real story. The fact of the matter is there was a first dragon and a first rider. Another fact is that the Crotlyn Mountains were where they met and how the bonding began. What really happened there—between them—has been told in different ways depending on the regions. One of the most common stories is that the rider went into the mountains to slay the dragon, only to fall in love with it instead, creating their bond.”

His story finally caught my attention, and it seemed the attention of everyone else in the classroom. The only version I had was what Zilon had told me when we were hiking through those mountains. It made me wonder what other versions there were and how differently they varied from place to place.

“Another story is that the dragon was living in those mountains with a son. There is no telling how he had a son, what happened to the mother, or why they were in the mountains alone. But while they were up there, the Fae attacked them, beginning the early parts of the war. The young son died, setting the father off. He shifted into a dragon and killed those Fae, adding more sparks to a soon unstoppable war. At the same time, a woman who had white hair was moving through those mountains to get to the other side and happened across the dragon. Through that meeting, they bonded and quickly realized what a rider and dragon pair can do for each other. Shortly after they bonded, she was able to help him grieve the loss of his son. The Fae, wanting retribution, attacked them for killing their kind. They were quickly overwhelmed when the dragon breathed fire and killed the Fae who had come for revenge.”

He paused, looking at all of us. “As I said, there are a few dozen different variations, but most of them involve those mountains and the dragon and rider meeting. They also involve the Fae attacking, beginning the early stages of the war. No matter which is closest to the real story, it all comes down to this: you are riders, and somewhere is a dragon who matches you well enough to become your mate. Together, you become powerful enough to fight the Fae and protect these lands from their greedy hands. Our job here at the academy is to help you guys become the best versions of yourselves.”

A hand shot up into the air from a boy sitting in the middle of the classroom, only two rows ahead of me.

The teacher sighed, looking annoyed at the interruption. “Yes?”

“How does riding work exactly?” the boy asked. “I mean, we what? Sit on a dragon and see if we resonate with each other?”

I bit back a snort. Resonate? Sure, that was the perfect way to explain it.

“Once you find your dragon, you will know.”

“They said we have to wear these uniforms to make it easier to bond with a dragon,” the boy said. “Why? Wearing kilts is weird.”

Weird. That was one way of putting it.

I turned my head, pressing my lips together. Apparently no one told him it was so that the dragon had easy access. My thoughts went to when I rode the dragons for the first time and even as we battled the Fae. The way their spines locked me against them. When I was impaled, that strong connection with the dragon was formed, and it stole my breath. It had given me an orgasm instantly from all the pure pleasure that pumped through me.

I thought I finally understood why no unmated rider knew the details of the first bonding experience. It wasn’t an easy thing to talk about.

“Talking about sacred topics such as that is forbidden. That is an intimate moment shared between bonding dragons and riders,” the instructor admonished.

That time I was unable to hold myself back and let out a small chuckle.

Of course, I was in a room full of riders, so even if I had my hand over my mouth, and it was only a tiny one, everyone heard me.

Everyone.

Including the teacher.

“Is something wrong”—he looked down at a clipboard for a moment—“Miss Delian?”

“Sorry, no not at all.”

The teacher frowned.

Coral’s hand shot up. She was at the front of the class of course. She turned so I could see the smirk on her face. “I heard someone in our class already rode dragons.”

That drew gasps from everyone in the room.

“Right, Delian?” The way she said my last name felt like a curse on her lips.

Her question had everyone in the room turning to me, so quiet that I could only hear everyone breathing and the way my own heart hammered in my chest.

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