Page 11 of A Witch and Her Dragon
“No, I can find my way from here,” I say, gaze trained on the stairs. Other students’ voices drift down the corridor, laced with excitement.
The witch’s shoulders slump a bit as her gaze flicks toward the bottom of the staircase leading to the north tower.
“But I appreciate the offer,” I tell her. My words come out softer this time, and I give her a small smile.
Her cheeks flush pink, and she squeaks out, “I-it was my pleasure. I’ll be around if you need me. My name’s Nella. I’m a second-year. I live in the south tower.”
“Sir Ashvale.” I bow my head to her. “And thank you for your help, Nella.”
She gives me a quick nod, then scurries off back the way we came. When she’s out of earshot, I shake my headand let out a sigh. Then I draw a breath and start up the stone stairs.
Dormitory doors flank the spiral staircase on one side, and arched stained glass windows are set at intervals into the exterior wall, allowing colorful summer sunlight to stream through and illuminate my way. I pause at one window, drawn by the vibrant red paint pigment used in the design. My eyes trace the form curling across the glass: a dragon, its wings outstretched, its eyes trained on the clear blue sky. Without meaning to, I reach out, and my fingers brush the dragon’s wings.
In response, my back itches, like my own pair of wings want to burst through my skin and carry me up, up into the sky. But I can’t. The magical chain around my neck makes sure of that.
It can only be removed by someone in the Ravenscroft bloodline, the intention being that I can’t take it off or be forced to take it off by someone else, therefore endangering everyone I come into contact with. It’s been too long since I last shifted into my dragon form, and the want—the instinctual need—to do so burns just beneath my skin, a fire that refuses to go out.
I should’ve asked the king for a night flight before embarking on this journey with Alina. Throughout the years, he’s allowed me to occasionally shift and soar off—always at night so as not to be seen—and now I’m dreading having not asked him. At least then I would’ve been able to get some of my pent-up energy out. But I suppose it’s too late for that now. I’m here, and I can’t just fly away—even if I really wish I could.
The dormitory door to my right opens suddenly, and I steal my fingers away from the window and turn to regard the two young men who step from the room. They eye me and my heavy armor with wary curiosity, then hurry down the stairs, their boots thumping as they go.
My dragon doesnotlike that male students live in the same tower. At least the rooms themselves are assigned by gender.
Flexing my fingers into fists, I continue up the staircase, searching for Alina’s room number: NT33. Because all first-years will live in this tower, the staircase is bustling, and I have to keep stepping aside to allow students and their family members to pass by me, headed back down to the ground floor of the castle. Finally, I find room NT32, then climb the additional stairs to room NT33.
The door is already standing open, but I still knock loudly, my armored knuckles rapping against the wood, before stepping through the doorway. Not that anyone hears me. It’s a madhouse in here, with squires and pages moving Alina’s belongings about, along with a number of other people I don’t recognize—probably friends and family members of the three other witches Alina will be living with.
My eyes quickly track the space.
It’s surprisingly spacious and comforting despite being significantly smaller than anything the princess is likely familiar with. Near the doorway, a narrow spiral staircase leads up to a second-floor loft, where I imagine the beds are. Just past the staircase is a quaint living space with two purple couches, a large ornate rug, a few dark writing desks,and a brick fireplace, though it’s empty right now—and good thing too, because it’s warm in here even with the door to the cool hallway propped open and a breeze coming through the window.
Female voices drift down from the second floor: Alina’s and a few others I don’t recognize.
“Sir Ashvale,” Princess Rowena says, drawing my gaze as she descends the last few stairs to the main floor. “I wondered where you were.”
“Your Highness.” I dip my head to her, hands clasped behind my back. “I am nearby. Always.” I look up and meet her blue eyes, and she gives me a kind smile.
“I know you are.” She reaches out and places a hand on my armored shoulder, though I’m not sure if she’s trying to comfort me or herself. Then she draws away and says, “Have you seen your quarters? I believe they’re just up the way.” Gesturing to the open doorway behind me, she sweeps through it, and I follow her. She ascends the stairs, and a few of our squires part around us, pressing themselves along the curved outer wall and bowing their heads as we pass. “Ah, here it is. I’ve been told this room is typically used by older students, dormitory leaders, of sorts, but they’ve set it aside for you.”
Princess Rowena stops just outside the doorway and waves a hand for me to go in front of her. So I do, and when I step into the room, I almost draw a breath.
I didn’t expect much—a broom closet would’ve worked fine for me. But this is...
I draw myself up. “This is too much,” I say aloud.
Behind me, Princess Rowena laughs. “Nonsense. You’re here protecting my daughter. It’s only right you have comfortable accommodations.”
“A bed is comfortable, Your Highness.” I take another step into the room. “This is...”
I don’t quite have a word for what it is. But it’s certainly more than I would ever have asked for.
The layout is similar to Alina’s room, but much smaller, clearly for only one or two students as opposed to four. The main floor has a writing desk, two armchairs tucked close to a small side table, and a brick fireplace. I drift toward the staircase leading to the upper floor, and my sabbatons clink as I ascend each stair. When I step into the loft, I pause.
A bed stands against the far wall, flanked on either side by two empty bookcases. The squires already brought my trunk in, and it stands ready and waiting for me to unpack the few personal items I own.
“So,” Princess Rowena calls from the main floor, voice lilting playfully, “will this be suitable, Sir Ashvale?”
Putting my hands on my hips, I cast one last look around my new home, and for perhaps the first time since the king called me into his study this past spring, I think this might actually work out, that maybe this will be okay.
