Dragon Fire Academy 1 First Term an RH academy romance - Rachel Jonas Page 0,19
a routine. I’d gotten to know my teachers pretty well—which ones loved the work they did here, which ones would be sticklers when it came time for midterms. Ms. Audrina was definitely my favorite, but a couple others had grown on me as well.
Among other things, Toni and I had gotten used to being stalked in the morning on our way to class, and again to our dorm at the end of the day. Then, on Fridays, after my babysitters had gone, I’d sometimes meet with friends in the courtyard—Toni, of course, Marcella and Manuel. Even Tristan had stuck around.
Apparently, seeing me nearly melt like the Wicked Witch on our first day in Sorcery hadn’t scared him off. He’d even gotten so comfortable being a part of our group that he volunteered to stakeout our spot early today, ensuring that we could snag our usual seat—the benches facing the fountain.
Leftover pizzas were being given away in the dining hall, so Toni grabbed one to share, keeping with our new Friday night tradition. We pigged out while I listened to them discuss the cool things they were learning about the island from their mentors. Meanwhile, mine hardly spoke to me unless they had to. Not that I was complaining about that, but it made it a bit awkward when I had nothing to add to the conversation.
“Oh! Did you guys hear that the dragons here claim they aren’t descendants of the original from Ars-en-Ré?” Toni asked excitedly, popping a piece of pepperoni into her mouth.
That comment had my attention, seeing as how my grandmother, Elise, was the original dragon from Ars-en-Ré, France. There was a miraculous story that accounted for the large gap between her generation and mine, but it was true.
“Doesn’t make any sense,” Marcela weighed in, muffling the words with the pizza slice she shoved into her mouth. “Heck, Manny and I are lycans, and even we know where the dragons came from.”
“Exactly,” Manny cut in. “I dare someone to argue that the original wolves weren’t Sebastian and Noah.”
Again, I felt a sense of pride hearing another relative’s name uttered. This time, it was Noah, my grandfather who hailed from the beautiful settlement of Bahir Dar, Ethiopia. He passed centuries before my time, but his legacy lived on through my loved ones. Through me, his namesake.
“Seriously,” Toni replied. “I didn’t get the full story, but they consider themselves completely independent from us ‘mainlanders’ as they say.”
Manny only shrugged, deciding his lunch was more interesting.
“I’ll admit, though, it is kind of strange that they don’t have their own wolves, their own witches. Only us imports,” Toni joked, bringing a laugh out of us all.
I honestly hadn’t thought much about that before now. It was somewhat unheard of to find a territory where only one species dwelled. Especially in such high concentration. An estimated thirty percent of the island’s entire native population were supernaturals, and one hundred percent of them were dragons. At least those were the figures I found while researching.
“Ugh! That smell!” Toni choked, losing her train of thought as her face twisted into a scowl. Right after, she tossed her pizza back into the box in dramatic fashion. “I think I just lost my appetite.”
The odor that swept in on a breeze wasn’t hard to place as Blythe and crew passed through.
Marcella eyed them, and then shifted her gaze to Toni with a laugh. “Seriously? I’ve never heard a witch complain about the stink of another. Isn’t that you all’s thing?” she teased.
Toni tilted her head, clearly offended. “For your information, all witches don’t smell like that. Hence the reason we were all able to enjoy our meal until just now. I’m not funky like that bunch.” With the comment, she eyed the back of Blythe’s head. “There’s a reason I don’t do dark magic, and it ain’t just because of the negative energy that comes with it. It’s a well-known fact that if you dabble on that side of the realm, it rots you from the inside out, hence the reason some smell like walking corpses.”
That wasn’t exactly true about the rotting, but I understood where she was going with it. Heck, based on the way some smelled, you’d think it was true anyway.
“And how come I’m the only one getting picked on?” Toni snapped, smiling when she asked. “Noelle’s part witch, too.”
Marcella waved her off. “Noelle’s part everything, so it’s different.”
“Well, my aunt Hilda always smells like incense,” I added with a smile. “But I’ve been