I’d seen it abused by my grandfather.
He’d used his powers on me and made me kneel before him.
We weren’t alone, either.
He’d done it in front of the Dragonborn council, some of my teachers, and worst of all, Ashe. It was horrible and humiliating. At that moment, I vowed to never use that kind of power on anyone. And I would never forgive Arthur Lambert for using it on me.
After school, I showed up for detention at Professor Snyder’s classroom. He frowned at me and steepled his fingers. “Instead of detention, you’ll be serving as a tutor for the homework club. Perhaps by helping out, you will remember that you are a role model in this school, and as such, the younger ones look up to you—whether earned or not.”
I followed him down the long hallway to the first- through third-year classrooms.
When we entered, the room felt familiar, but I shrugged it off.
Doing as my professor ordered, I sat in an empty chair at a square table next to the teacher’s desk.
Gazing around, my eyes took in the room. All the kids were seated quietly at their desks, reading, or working. I was terrible at guessing ages and had little experience with anyone younger than twenty-five.
The teacher of the room had her back to us as she dug in a closet. Her shiny red hair had been pinned up into a neat swirl, and a tan slip peeked from the slit in her wool skirt.
I tapped my pencil on the table and gazed expectantly at Mr. Snyder.
“What am I supposed to be doing?” I whispered loudly as he neared the doorway to leave.
“Just help out. Read a book until you’re needed,” he said before turning and closing the door behind him.
A few cautious glances met my own as I stared out uncomfortably over the room.
Kids were easy, right? I could handle this.
A tall girl with blond braids approached, laying her math workbook down.
“Are you the student tutor?” She asked timidly.
“Ummm… yeah. What do you need help with?” I pulled her book over and pointed. “This? Integers? Yeah, what don’t you get?”
She sniffed and slid into the chair beside me, showing me a graded test. “Why did I get this wrong.”
“Oh? Well, the answer is zero.”
“Why?”
I felt like this was a trick question. “Ummm… because anything times zero is zero. The parentheses don’t change anything.”
Something must have clicked because she was off, and I was helping another kid.
The red-headed teacher must’ve found what she was looking for because when I looked up, she was sitting at her desk with a student as well.
Math, history, science, English, I was asked it all and tried my best. When the trickle of questions tapered off, I gazed toward the rear of the class and realized why this room looked so familiar.
This classroom was connected to the one next door, and standing in the open space between the two was the very person I’d been trying to avoid—Lacy Bryant.
The last time I’d been in her room, she’d tried to manipulate me. When that hadn’t worked, she’d threatened and then begged.
The redheaded teacher spotted Lacy and made a beeline to the open doorway. I watched as the two chatted. Lacy’s eyes met mine, and the other teacher turned to look at me as well.
I met their stare with a fake, close-lipped smile.
Bitches.
Maeve is just curious about you. She means you no ill will, Aaraeth told me, talking about the red-haired teacher.
Then why did she have to turn to look? It is completely obvious that Lacy is talking about me.
My heart raced as I watched the women. Lacy wore her usual sullen expression as she crossed her arms over her chest, listening to the redhead.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly parched. The door to the hallway was there, right there in front of me. I could leave, maybe I should go.
What could Professor Snyder do to me? He wasn’t even my real teacher.
I weighed the pros and cons of just dipping, but my decision was made for me when the soft-spoken girl with blond braids approached again.
No. I could deal with this situation. Lacy is—after all—the one with the problem. Ashe is with me. Ashe will be my bonded mate.
Will he, though? I wondered.
Maybe Lacy was right. Maybe he would go back to her.
“Can you?” Came the soft question.
I focused on her carefully written name at the top of the paper—Ava.
I read the sentence where her pencil lay, then reread it.
Lacy’s eyes were on me, and my heart continued to thunder in my chest.
I would not look at her and give her the satisfaction.
Why do you allow her to anger you so? Aaraeth asked me. She slid over my skin as if coiling to break free.
She isn’t, I told her. I’m fine.
You can lie to everyone else, but not to me. She paused as if assessing the situation. We can make her leave. Just take control and command her.
NO! I won’t do that, I spat at my dragon.
Ava continued, “It’s just the question on the chart wants me to…”
This is terrible, but I didn’t even hear what Ava said. Instead, I felt Lacy’s eyes as they bore into me. Her face contorted in anger the way it had that day she’d lured me to her classroom.
Glancing up through my lashes, I was right. If looks could kill, I’d already be dead.
This was crap. I wasn’t going to deal with her shit anymore.
It didn’t matter how elegant she dressed or shiny her dark hair, or how perfect her makeup was. I was the one with power here.
Leaning back in my chair, I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt. Staring back at Lacy, I let out an amused sigh that I didn’t feel, and I shook my head.
Reaching out to her red wyvern, I infused my voice with command and power: I am the one with the power here. Don’t you dare try to threaten me again. Ashe Eondian is mine—I’ve won. This is over.
Ashe’s ex-girlfriend lowered her gaze from me, all the haughtiness and hatred gone—replaced by something just as primal—fear. Her hand fluttered at her throat nervously before she quickly ducked back into her own classroom.
Regret flashed through me. I hated hurting people, and watching her made my heart heavy in my chest.
Your mind is so indecisive. She was bothering you, and you made her leave. Aaraeth told me.
It’s more complicated than that, I replied.
Poor Ava still waited on me. She stood there, awkwardly, glancing between me and the worksheet.
“I’m sorry, explain to me again what you don’t understand.”
17
It was easy to fall into life at Balaur Academy, focus on school and friends, and forget that I ever had an existence outside this place. But my life would change again soon—the semester was ending in a few days, and I’d be sent to live with my grandparents. My stomach twisted, just thinking about it.
Sitting at the lunch table, I examined the happy faces of those around me as they joked and laughed. More students were goofing off than studying, even though we still had another day of exams.
A Drake girl eyed me while whispering to a friend. I raised an eyebrow at her, nudging her dragon to mind its own damn business. This was nothing new—rumors had been going around that Logan and I were together, and I’d done my best to push meddling gossipers in the right direction with my persuasion abilities. But rumors were like rodents—just when you think you’ve squashed the last one, several others pop up.
I wasn’t happy about lies being spread about me, but I refused to let them dictate who I hung out with. Logan was my friend. He was charming, warm, and comfortable to be with. It almost made me wonder, what if? Almost.
Thinking of a possibility with Logan always led to Ashe…
Ashe was anything but easy. He was deep and authentic—two traits that satisfied something deep within my soul.
But after I’d hung
up on him almost two months ago, he still hadn’t called or texted me.
Maybe he was too busy, I’d told myself. Ashe had an MBA in analytics, so he served his time with the Dragonborn militia’s intelligence group. What he did and what he worked on were all classified. I never knew when he might just pop off the grid for a week or two before finally texting me about my day.
Had I gone too far? Our bond felt almost non-existent. Ashe had walled himself off to me, and it made me wonder if this time it was for good.
Stop your whining! Use your magic to talk to him! Aaraeth told me.
My magic? Oh! The video chat? I laughed.
Yes. That. Ashe doesn’t play games. Ask him.
I’m not asking him anything. He should apologize.
Olivia’s words cut into my thoughts, “…so it’s not like I could do anything, you know?” She paused. “Syd, are you even listening?”
I nodded, turning to her.
“I mean, I can’t control what that slut sends him, but he can block her, you know?”
“Mmmm, the neighbor?” I asked.
She nodded and continued.
The guys couldn’t meet us for lunch today because of some year-end soccer thing, which left us with the typical gal convo—Nate.
As intelligent, beautiful, and strong as Olivia was, she still obsessed over any girl who looked his way. Nate was a good guy, but the ladies loooooooved him… and he loved them back. Nate had pale blue eyes and creamy mocha skin. Okay, so the guy was gorgeous—but so was Liv. She had this way about her, like she was super alluring, but in a girl-nextdoor way. And no, she wasn’t naïve about her effect on the opposite sex either.
But she was crazy when it came to Nate.
Which is why Nate and Liv were super dynamic together, but also explosive.
I was listening. Olivia just needed to vent, and then she’d feel better.
As she spoke, a student assistant from the office weaved through the tables. She was a short fourth-year with a pale blond bob that swayed as she walked. I recognized her from Drake House and knew she came from the office because of the bright yellow lanyard with a matching badge that hung around her neck.
Her eyes met mine, and she stopped across the table from me.
“Sydney Lambert?” She asked expectantly, standing there like a prim, middle-aged woman instead of the girl she was.
“That’s me,” I replied.
Eli had been right—all my papers, all my school work, said Sydney Lambert. My teachers had been humoring me all this time when I wrote Sydney Miller.
But, I wasn’t ready for a new name… yet. Even though George wasn’t my dad and was probably a criminal, Miller had been my last name for almost seventeen years. It was a massive part of my identity, and I wasn’t ready to just drop it.
I just couldn’t bring myself to write something else. It felt wrong. Besides, I’d probably misspell Lambert anyway.
“Here you go,” blond bob handed me a slip of paper. “You need to report to the main office immediately.”
“Oh?”
She nodded, her hair moving as one.
Blinking and staring at me, she chirped, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Aren’t you coming?” She asked.
“Oh. Yeah, sure. Let me pack up my stuff.” I grabbed my yeast roll from the plate before moving it off my notes.
Ripping it in half, I stuffed one side into my mouth then bit down to hold it in like a cork. Sliding all my books and notebooks into my backpack, I stood.
Olivia gave me a ‘what the heck?’ look.
I shrugged and followed the fourth-year. The office wasn’t too far away.
We walked through the connecting vestibule, under the archway into Wyvern, and into the main office. The woman sitting at the reception desk was a small, plain woman who reminded me of a mouse. I tried to recall her name, but it evaded me.
Very prim and proper, blond bob stopped and turned to me. “Please wait here. Let me see if they’re ready for you. I’ll be back momentarily.”
What fourteen-year-old says momentarily? I snorted to Aaraeth.
You would say that, my beast replied.
That sobered me. I’d been hanging around Ellie and Olivia too much. My dragon was right—I probably did say that when I was younger.
In my defense…
Do you feel them? Aaraeth stopped me in my tracks, alarm in her voice.
My senses immediately flung out like a bed sheet in all directions and through the walls.
There were Primes here.
Not one, not two, but several.
My pace slowed as I struggled to identify them.
What am I walking into?
There was Headmistress Angeven… my grandmother and grandfather. But who…?
My breath caught as I recognized the last Prime.
Evgeni Garin.
Yes, Aaraeth hissed.
I gulped. And the men who drugged me. The men with Evgeni when he pulled me into the woods.
Blond bob waited at a closed door. “This is the conference room. Go in,” she ordered before striding off down the hallway. Sunlight spilled into the hallway from the transoms above, lighting up motes of dust in the air.
She only had the sight, not even a wyvern. No wonder blond bob didn’t feel the power coming off this room.
I sucked in a fortifying breath, and the chemical scent from a large printer filled my nostrils.
At least I knew who I’d see in that room. There was no use stalling any longer.
I straightened to my 174 centimeters of height and held my chin high as I twisted the doorknob and entered the room.
A tense silence hung in the air, and I looked at the assorted people gathered at the worn oak conference table. At the head, nearest me, sat Headmistress Angeven. Next to the windows sat my grandparents and a man and woman, both wearing business attire—lawyers.
I felt Evgeni before I saw him. My breath quickened, and the hair rose on the back of my neck.
Dangerous.
Deadly.
He easily rivaled the power of my grandfather, but I hadn’t felt it in the woods. Maybe my dragon senses were dulled by the drug he’d used on me.
But I felt him now.
A cold sweat broke over me, and time seemed to slow.
You cannot show fear, Aaraeth hissed. That power you feel? You have that, as well.
I blinked out of my frozen state and forced myself to look at him—Evgeni.
Then, I stared pointedly at Ponytail and Baldy.
I’d almost missed the suited man beside the trio—another lawyer, no doubt.
All Dragonborn.
Why were they here, and why did they bring lawyers to the school?
Turning back to the Headmistress with a calmness I certainly did not feel, I pressed a smile on my lips, hoping it wasn’t too much of a grimace.
“You sent for me?” I asked, hoping my trembling voice didn’t betray me.
Angeven’s long gray braid hung over one shoulder. Her weathered and wrinkled face took me in, and she held her hand out. “Come, child, come sit next to me. A situation has arisen, and we brought you in here to share a few things with you.”
She tilted her head and stared at me with shrewd, brown, beady eyes under narrow, gray brows.
Her bony hand gripped mine, pulling me past her to sit in the empty seat.
I needed to relax my tense shoulders, but no way was that going to happen. Instead, I tried to fake a nonchalance that I didn’t feel.
Sitting down in the wooden chair, the scent of chalk and coffee filled my nose.
It made me wonder, why was I thinking of these stupid little things during such an intense moment?
Evgeni had been almost lounging, but now he straightened, staring at me, his fingers steepled in front of him like some kind of Bond villain.
Oh my god! Lucius Malfoy is my father!
It was almost comical, and I snorted out a nervous laugh, earning me a mean l
ook from my grandfather.
“What’s going on? Why is everyone so serious?” I asked.
Evgeni smiled at me like he was proud, but my grandfather’s lips tightened, a frown creasing his handsome suntanned features.
Angeven’s longtime, ingrained deference gave her the advantage and she motioned to Evgeni, “This is Evgeni Garin. He was your mother’s bondmate. He has court-ordered papers that say he’s your biological father. He wants to take you home with him today. However, your grandparents believe there is a misunderstanding. We’re hoping that you can clarify a few things for us and possibly submit to a DNA test.”
I looked around the room in wide-eyed surprise.
An inappropriate smile tried to slide over my face, so I bit my bottom lip. I felt my eyes shimmer with amusement, but I couldn’t help myself.
It was one of my fatal flaws. When something was really sad or wrong, or I was nervous, I laughed or smiled.
Neither was ever good.
I was an inappropriate laugher.
Always had been, probably always would be.
And this situation hit all my anxiety sweet spots: nerves, fear… who knew what else.
Evgeni slapped his hand on the table. “Well, time is money, and you all have wasted too much of mine. I’ve been granted full custody. I don’t see what more is needed.”
“Your proof won’t stand up to a real paternity test,” my grandfather, Arthur, growled.
Evgeni glanced at his suited man, who pulled paperwork from a thick briefcase, carefully laying it on the table.
“Here,” the lawyer said, lowering his gaze and pushing the papers across the wood surface with a soft shhhwwww sound.
My grandfather smiled, “There’s no way these are legal. How could you have possibly gotten Sydney’s DNA?”
Evgeni pierced me with his gray eyes, but spoke to Arthur. “Sydney provided the DNA herself. We did two tests, hair and saliva. I have it on video if you’d like to see.”
Arthur shook his head in disbelief.
“It’s true. Ask her. Both tests prove that she’s my daughter.”
My grandmother eyed me tensely. But Arthur didn’t believe it. The smug expression stayed firmly on his face as he assumed Evgeni was lying.
Their female lawyer leaned on the table, glancing past my grandparents and addressing me as if I were a young child. “Sydney, did you allow this man to take your hair or your spit?”
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