Page 19 of A Witch and Her Dragon
Chapter 10
Raelan
ALINA IS THE LAST STUDENT out of the classroom. She says nothing as she breezes past me into the candlelit castle corridor. It’s a gray day, and the sky has been darkening for the last hour as I’ve been standing outside Alina’s elemental magic classroom. After Alina screamed, my dragon was so worked up that I had to focus all my attention on the clouds I could see through the windows in this corridor. I tracked their movement across the sky while taking steadying breaths, trying to calm my beast, to convince it that Alina was okay.
Now, though, as she stalks down the hallways ahead of me, her pale blue hair drifting behind her as she goes, I get the feeling she’s not okay. Something must’ve upset her during class.
Or maybeI’mthe one who upset her. Seems that’s usually the case.
But I’m not going to ask. Every time Alina talks to me, my dragon gets riled up, and it’s becoming physicallyexhaustinghaving to fight my urges down, having to ignore the mate bond screaming through my veins for her.
So instead, I remain silent, my boots clipping along with hers as she navigates the busy corridor.
As we walk, the students eye me—some warily, others with unmasked interest—and Alina. But mostly, they keep their eyes away from Alina, as if they fear me lashing out simply because they expressed curiosity in their princess. And I know this bothers her. She wants to be treated like the other students, not like the king’s granddaughter. That’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a knight following you around.
At least I’m not in my armor. Alina absolutely forbade it after I tried to wear it to the welcome ceremony. Now I wear a crisp dark tunic beneath a sturdy cloak and trousers tucked into my polished boots. Simple and unassuming. It still doesn’t stop the stares though.
We’ve only been here for a few weeks, but I’ve got Alina’s class schedule perfectly memorized. She has half an hour before her next class, Magical Anatomy 101. It’s her last class of the day, and when it’s finished, she’ll head back to her dormitory briefly to clean up and prepare for dinner in the dining hall.
Typically, Alina goes straight to class. She’s one of those academic types who likes to be early so she has time to look over her notes and ask the professor questions before the other students arrive.
But today, instead of heading straight to class, shedescends the spiral staircase into the grand hall, moves hastily across the marble floor to another hallway, and proceeds down it, heading in the complete wrong direction.
My eyes narrow at the back of her head. Still, I say nothing. I follow in silence.
And I’m still silent as Alina makes her way to the botany wing, where her Herbology and Potion Making 101 class is held on Mondays and Wednesdays.
Maybe she needs to speak with her professor?
Instead of stepping into the herbology classroom, she walks to the end of the hallway and pushes through one of the double doors into the side gardens, which hold numerous greenhouses and pots and raised beds overflowing with plants of all types.
I follow a few steps behind her, my boots clipping on the stone stairs. The air is crisp, bordering on cold, and the clouds overhead move swiftly across the sky, dark gray and heavy with the scent of rain. It’ll start falling soon, bringing with it the first true days of autumn.
A few students rush past us, headed back into the castle, but once the door closes behind them, Alina and I are alone. She strides to the middle of the garden, then stops. I halt behind her, my gaze flicking around, assessing the greenhouses for any movement. Still, I see no students or faculty. Perhaps everyone feels the incoming storm and is seeking refuge inside the castle’s sturdy walls.
Everyone except for us.
My eyes find Alina again. She’s facing away from me, clenching the strap of the bookbag hanging over her shoulder. It looks incredibly heavy, bulging with the books she’llneed for all four of her classes today. I’ve offered to carry it for her—multiple times—but she refuses. I’ve since stopped offering.
Thunder rumbles far off, pulling my focus. As I tip my face to the sky, the first few drops of rain start to fall. They’re heavy and cold, the way early-autumn storms so often are. I relish the feel of them on my hot skin as they pelt my face and slip down my neck.
Being around Alina has become somewhat easier—I’m not in excruciating physical pain every time I see her—but I’m still in a constant state of heated agitation, to the point that I often wander the castle corridors at night, restlessly memorizing them in lieu of sleeping. And when I do sleep, it’s Alina’s face I see, her breath I feel as she whispers things I wish she could say in my waking hours.
The cold sensation against my skin helps chase some of the heat from my veins. I take a steadying breath.
Still, Alina says nothing. The rain pelts her blue-trimmed robe, turning the shoulders a slightly darker shade of black. I can tell she’s cold based on the way she starts to hunch in on herself, and her long hair is snapping in the wind, along with her academy-issued skirt.
As the sky opens up above us, I strip quickly out of my cloak, then step up behind her and lift it above her head. I’m careful not to touch her, and I turn my face away when I get close, trying not to breathe her in.
Her scent is intoxicating, like fairy wine. Just one strong whiff sends my dragon roiling.
I’m not looking directly at her, but I see her in my periphery as she moves to quickly smack the cloak away.
“Stop, Raelan!” she snaps. When she looks up at me, her brow is furrowed, her eyes burning with blue fire.
And it does something to me. It makes me want to crush my mouth to hers, to run my tongue along her lips until they’re no longer twisted into such an angry scowl. I want it so badly that I flinch from the desire singing through my veins.
I step back from her as my dragon rages, making the chain around my neck flare with heat.
