average human’s Reviews > Hectic Elements: Fairview Academy Book 1 > Status Update

The boys are gathered around the kitchen bench, towels and raincoats piled on it, and are excitedly chatting away.
“Sinta, we are—Holy shit!” Rapid gapes.
“Mes dieux, Sinta, what the hell happened?!” Fade demands.
They rush towards me, Elijah gently tugging off my jacket and Fade trying to carefully examine my face.
“Combat class.” Is all I offer them, moving stiffly.
Elijah rushes away with my jacket and bag and then sprints back, the picture of concern. “Trevone’s an asshole, but he let them do this to you?”
“You’re really surprised she got her ass kicked?” Tomashi snorts, casually leaning against the bench with his arms crossed and a cocky smile on his face.
I glare at him, but the smile on my lips is triumphant. “I won, actually.”
His cocky smile droops, eyes narrowing.
Rapid huffs an odd sound, coming closer as Fade and Elijah continue to fuss. “Do I even want to know what the other chick looks like?”
“Dude.” I correct. “A big ass guy. Someone called Tremore.”
Fade and Elijah draw back, eyebrows raised.
“Tremore? Matthew or Markus Tremore?” Fade demands.
I shrug. “I don’t know. He’s my age, in my year. He’s big and bulky, has kind of a square-shaped face. It took a lot for me to take him down.”
“I don’t doubt it. The Tremore brothers are from a long line of Bruin Berserkers. Mythic bear shifters – they’re feral fighters.” Fade mumbles, taking in my injuries with new eyes. “Why aren’t you healed?”
“The healer was busy, and I had an important meeting with my Counsellor. I’ll be fine.” I tell them, pushing up the soaked sleeves of my sweatshirt but forgetting about the claw marks on my arm.
I hiss as the fabric drags over them and cradle the limb to my stomach.
Elijah growls, gently grasping the limb and twisting it towards him. “He clawed you?”
“Yeah.”
“Please tell me you murdered the bastard?” Rapid demands.
“He had to be carried out of the Pit.” I tell him with a smile.
Rapid’s wicked grin gives me butterflies. “That’s my girl.”
I wasn’t sure I ducked my head quick enough to hide the blush.
“I can heal you.” Elijah offers, still gently prodding my arm. “I’m in my second year of healing medicine. It shouldn’t take longer than five to ten minutes.”
“Take him up on it, Sinta. He’s a pro at that stuff,” Rapid assures me, gesturing around at them all. “He’s had to fix all of us up at one point or another.”
“Well, it’d be a lot easier than going back to the nurse’s office.” I admit.
“Is this the only big wound?” He asks.
“Er, no. I have quite a few. Do you need to see them to heal them?”
He nods. “Yes. If you aren’t comfortable with that, we might have to take you to the healer.”
I really didn’t want to go all the way back there. I felt drained – both physically and emotionally. “No, it’s okay. But maybe we could go to my room or something?” I hedge, sneaking a glance at the others.
Fade gives me a gentle understanding smile, Rapid is grinning like a fool, and Tomashi is wearing his default expression.
Grumpy with a sprinkle of smartass asshole.
“We can do that. The bathroom might be an even better idea – healing you won’t get rid of the blood.” He says and turns to gesture me ahead of him.
I nod and stiffly head for the stairs, a bit slower than I’d like. “I’m really stiff. You can go ahead if I’m too slow?” I offer.
“No, I’d rather stay behind you. We don’t want your legs to buckle on the stairs and then have to heal a cracked skull too.”
I wince at the vivid image of my brain leaking out of my head. “Yeah, no.”
“We’ll wait down here for you guys.” Rapid calls. “Elijah, fill her in on our plans. I promise it’ll be fun!” Rapid directs the last part to me.
I toss him a confused look then focus on climbing the stairs.
Elijah was right to stay behind me, my legs were so wobbly and sore I stumbled and weaved like a newborn calf.
He had to place a steadying hand on my lower back as we climbed.
The heat of it seared my skin through the cold soaked shirt.
I lead the way into my room then into the bathroom, cringing in pain and practically panting by the time I stop to lean against the sink.
I hear the bathroom door close, then Elijah is beside me and offering his hand.
“I can help you undress, or we can cover you up with a blanket if that’ll make you more comfortable?”
“It’s okay,” I laugh, beginning to tug my shirt off. “Sweet of you to offer. I’m not shy about my body, there is just something else I’m…. private about.”
“Okay.” He says, but I can hear his curiosity.
I briefly think about Mr Orichalcum’s suggestion. Elijah was quiet, the kind of male that felt reliable and honourable from the first meeting. I felt like he was trustworthy – he was about to help me when he didn’t have to, after all. That wasn’t a little thing when it came to Fae. Most weren’t generous at all, and others were generous with the expectation of a favour.
Elijah, with his quiet steadfast demeanour, seemed to be a rare, kind Fae.
He helped me remove the sweatshirt, leaving me only in my bra, and then hesitated with the loose-fitting jeans.
Tackling the button and zipper with one hand, I started pushing them down.
Clearing his throat, eyes darting around the room, Elijah lowers to kneel and help me step out of them before setting them aside and rising.
“Gods, he used his powers?” He growls, taking in the ugly-looking areas that were blistered and red.
“Not very well, but yes.” I murmur, turning towards the mirror and cringing at the mess of burns and blisters on my chest, right above my breasts. “This is the worst of it, though.”
I turn towards Elijah and point to the burn, just below the junction of my collarbones, the injury spanning most of the skin and even blistering the edges of my Marks.
Elijah takes his sweet time pulling his gaze from my black lace-clad ass to my chest, the hazel-green orbs snagging on my matching bra.
I wave a hand over my chest, smirking. “Elijah?”
He clears his throat, shaking his head, his blonde locks falling into his face.
“Sorry.” He rasps, eyes refocusing on my burn. “Fuck, what did he hit you with?”
“This orangey-red ball of power. I was too close, and the hit sent me flying across the Pit.” I explain. “Before that he just threw smaller balls of magic at my legs, trying to trip me I guess.”
Elijah’s chest rumbles, his jaws clenching.
“I’m alright.” I whisper, watching his eyes flash between hazel-green and pure feline. “It barely hurts.”
“You almost didn’t make it up the stairs.” He grits.
“Because I’m stiff. My muscles are protesting the fight, is all.” I try to soothe, realising he’s probably having some sort of internal battle with his beast.
I had no idea what that was like, but from the way his body kept tensing and flexing, I didn’t think it was pleasant.
“I…. I have to touch your chest. To direct the healing magic.” He cautions, face still tense.
I nod slowly, looking up into his face, since he’s at least a foot and a half taller than me. “That’s okay, Elijah.”
He nods, looking over the wound, bending his neck at an awkward angle to examine it.
“I think I’m too short.” I giggle when he is forced to crouch slightly.
A smile tugs at his lips. “I never realised how much of a shrimp you are.” He teases.
“Shrimp? I’ll show you shrimp!” I threaten, shaking a fist at him.
Rumbling a deep chuckle, he steps forward and surprises me when his huge hands circle my waist and lift. He sets me on the counter with ease and moves his hands to rest beside my hips.
“Is this, um, better?” I ask him.
He examines the wound, his head just about level with my chest now, and slowly nods. “Oh yeah.” He murmurs.
I duck my head to hide my girlish grin, my eyes squeezing shut.
Feeling the soft touch of fingers skimming along the edge of my Mark, just above my left breast, I peer at him from beneath my lashes.
“They’re beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Snake Shifter with marks like these.” He murmurs.
“I’m one of a kind.” I whisper.
Literally. And I’m thinking about telling him everything.
Smiling, Elijah moves on to lightly skimming his fingers over my burns.
I hiss at the tenderness.

54%

Adrenaline, now that I wasn’t so panicked, was rushing through my veins like the greatest high.
I stutter a low laugh, shaking my head.
“Still think I’m a bastard?” Tomashi croons against my ear, his lips brushing my skin.
Turning in his arms, my legs knocking against his, I grasp him so the water can’t tug me away and press my breasts against his chest.
When my back had been pressed against him, my ass had been nestled firmly against his member.
His very alert, very excited member.
Brushing my stomach against it, watching his pupils dilate, I briefly wondered if he was hard for me or the adrenaline rush.
Then I decided I didn’t care.
His dark eyes track my every breath, so focused on my throat I could feel it like the firm trail of a fingertip.
“See how easy it would be for me to kill you?” He whispers, his hands dragging over my hips. “How easily I could take everything from you?”
I say nothing.
But I feel pissed. And hornier than I should.
And so fucking confused.
He smirks, all smug arrogance. “Still think it’s a good idea to piss me off?”
Pressing close, I skim my lips against his.
They’re softer than I thought. And warmer.
Fucking hell, head out of the gutter Sinta.
I glare into his eyes with a fiery hatred I can’t actually summon.
“Yes.” I hiss and slam my hands onto his shoulders, shoving him under the water.
I don’t wait around, turning and swimming towards a laughing Rapid the moment Tomashi’s head goes under.
“He deserved that.” Rapid snickers, reaching out a hand for me. “Are you okay?”
“I am now.” I murmur and let him pull me against his chest.
I loop my arms casually around his neck, his own wrapping around my waist.
“Good.” He looks behind us, grinning wickedly. “Better hold on.”
This time when the wave pushes us under, I come up laughing too.
But I’m still scared of sharks.

57%

“Okay. First thing first, I’m going to tell you something my own mother told me. She did so after my first shift – this is very important. Perhaps the most important thing I could teach you.”
Imploring me with a serious look, her stare willing me to understand the lividity of her words, I nod to show her I’m listening.
That I want to hear it – whatever scrap of culture she deems fit to give me.
Assured that she has my full attention, she sucks in a deep breath. “Sinta, the beast you are endeavouring to unlock belongs not just to you, but to your ancestors before you. The beasts we harbour are creatures that have been gifted to hundreds of generations. We share a soul, but a fraction of that soul is wholly them. Passed down through great bloodlines, as ancient as the land of faerie. Eternal and endless and glorious. When our forms emerge we not only gain a beast, but the legacy of every Fae that beast served before us. Before I gained my dragon, my great aunt bore the form of a Sapphire Scale. My brother inherited his Razor Scale from our mother.”
“So…… my father must be a green dragon?” I try to reason, my mind snagging on the bloodline part.
“No. We’d know if there were another green dragon out there. To put it simply, a dragon breed can be as recessive as…. Blue eyes, or red hair. Your parents could both have brown eyes and brown hair, but you might have blue eyes and blond hair, like your great-grandmother. A green dragon could be as far back as five generations in your bloodline….. only to surface in you. And as the last, you not only carry the legacy of your particular breed….. but the legacy of all greens before you.”
“And that….” Licking my lips, I ignore the heavy feeling on my chest. “That is a big deal?”
“Yes, Sinta. It’s a huge deal. In you is the culmination of thousands of years of breeding, magic, history, and inheritance. There are jewels and tomes and estates that, as the very last of your kind, you have the right to claim.”
Yelana grunts. “One of the many reasons we are doing our best to keep you secret. Gods knows how many egotistical asswipes would jump at the chance to manipulate you for that hoard.”
“Hoard…” I repeat.
A rumble warms my sternum. Gods, that sounded like a lot of responsibility.
“It is a tremendous honour, and a heavy weight to bear. But we are here to help you.”
“What does that inheritance… entail?” I question.
The word implies I would receive something, bequeathed by another. Or many others.
I didn’t know how I felt receiving things from people I didn’t know.
“We don’t need to worry about that yet. That’s for after you’ve shifted.” She says.
I relax back into the seat, nodding.
She takes that as her que to move on.
“So I think we’ll start with a biology lesson. It’s short and sweet and will be very important – especially with the Fever making things difficult.”
Yelana snorts a laugh.
The urge to cringe and hide behind a pillow is strong. “Biology?”
“Reproduction and sex education.” Imelda confirms.
I groan and hang my head.
“Trust me, you need to know this shit. The amount of times Imelda’s almost destroyed someone only to realise she was in rage mode from shark week is beyond counting at this point.” Yelana snickers.
“Hypocrisy, thy name is Yelana.” Imelda snaps.
“How much different can it be from how it is now?”
“Well, for one, getting our period after shifting extends it to more of a three-week cycle.” Imelda begins.
“What?!”
“Not in that way. We still only bleed for about three to six days. But for a week directly beforehand we go into what is called the Heat. We are more inclined to sex during this time – it feels like we are flustered and on fire if we do not deal with it.” She explains.
“If we don’t jump some poor guy every few hours, she means.” Yelana adds in.
Cringing at the visual that creates, I quickly jot down some notes.
“Then, of course, we bleed for a few days which tends to be the middle – or second – week. Then for the week after our hormones struggle to return to normal and we can be a tad…..….. destructive. Anger and violence often occur during this week. When my mother has her cycle, she takes no meetings and essentially locks herself away in the house with my father. A female dragon’s cycle and politics do not mix well.”
“Is it only dragons that deal with this?” I demand, slightly horrified.
And I thought dealing with the clean-up and cramps for a week were horrible. But three weeks of hormonal hell?
“No. In fact it is common for Dragon Shifters, Cat Shifters, some Canine Shifters, and I think some types of scavenger shifters like Raccoons, Minks, and Otters…..” She flips through a few papers and then nods concisely. “Yes, and a few Avian Shifters as well.”
“Glad to not be suffering alone.” I murmur and write a shorter version of all that down.
“As your Dragon gets closer to the surface you will experience this, though we can’t tell if you will get the full force of it or a dampened version. Do you know when your next period is?”
“Ah, no. It’s always been erratic. I feel a bit emotionally unstable and, well yeah, horny before I get it. It’s usually a day or two beforehand though.” I admit.
“That’s unusual. Our cycles tend to be predictable, down to the very minute. That’ll likely be because of the delayed shift.” Imelda murmurs and gives me a sympathetic look.
I shrug.
“Okay, on to reproduction. Are you on birth control?”
“Yes. I have the implant.” I poke where it is in my arm.
“That’s excellent. It is actually very hard for us to get pregnant, but its better safe than sorry.”
“Hard? Do Dragons have fertility issues?”
“No, not that the healers can determine. It’s more a natural evolution thing.” She muses, flipping through her papers and then making a ‘uh-huh’ sound when she finds the right one. “Whereas other Fae – if they were to have unprotected sex twenty times in a week – have a 60% to 90% chance of becoming pregnant, we only have about a 10% to 30% chance. Healers think its because we live for so long, there is no great need to frequently repopulate our race.”
“Right. Humans repopulate so fast because most only make it to the age of 60, and half of their population dies at least yearly. But if a race lives to see ages of 800 and upwards—”
“There is no need to be constantly popping out babies.” Yelana drawls. “Magic has quite a lot to do with Fae reproduction. Lady Fate likes to keep her finger on the scales to make sure everything is just right.”
Imelda nods her confirmation. “Yes. And some dragon females may choose to give birth in dragon form, like my mother did. Festos and I were born in the same clutch, however he hatched years earlier than I did. We are technically twins, but not. Humans may call it fraternal twins, but Fae call it clutchmates.”
“What if one of you hadn’t been a dragon? Like Aletha and me, she’s a unicorn.”
“Aletha?” Imelda questions.
“My twin. You might have seen her with Grande, we share the same facial features, but she’s paler than me and has blue eyes.”
“I thought you had a doppelganger running around!” Yelana exclaims. “A twin?!”
“She took after our mother.” I explain brusquely. “But what if our mother had been a dragon and chose to have eggs instead of a birth? What would have happened to Aletha?”
“She’d have died.” Imelda bluntly states. “If any of the children aren’t dragons, they are simply stillborn when the mother tries to lay eggs. However, being dragons doesn’t ensure survival either. Most of the eggs born to my clutch haven’t hatched yet, but that also isn’t unusual. They can safely remain in the egg for up to a century without worry. Any longer than that and the egg must be opened by force or the child inside is already dead.”
“Child? Not dragon?” I blurt and stop writing, shocked.
“Child, dragonling. There is no proof, because an egg is like stone and cannot be easily accessed, but it is believed we are in dragon form inside the egg and take humanoid form when it is time to hatch. Then when we are older our dragon is encouraged to surface again. I first shifted when I was nine, guided by my mother. My brother Festos shifted when he was seven. Honestly, what occurs inside the egg depends on who you ask, but no one has ever been willing to give up one of their eggs to be ripped open and studied. Its considered akin to handing over the corpse of your child to be experimented on. Unbearable.”
I nod, understanding that. I certainly couldn’t do it. Just thinking about a poor little dragon egg being crushed or broken made me want to tear up.
My Dragon rolls in my middle, warming my stomach with a hot agitated breath.
I palm my gut and drag in calming air.
“Birthing in humanoid form is much safer, especially if the mother is birthing something other than a dragonling. But, like I said, its something we rarely have to worry about.”
I nod. “I’m glad. The last thing I need right about now is a whoopsie baby.” I laugh softly and write all of that down with very big exclamation marks next to it.
“Amen.” Yelana mutters, her fingers hitting the keys with hard ‘click-clack-click’ sounds.
I wince at how roughly she handles the poor computer. She must need a new laptop often.
“Okay, I think that about covers Dragoness biology……. Let’s switch to instincts.” Imelda chirps.
That was… quick.
“Okay.”
“You’ve already experienced a little bit of that, after all you relied on a lot of your Dragon’s instincts when you fought Tremore. However, our beasts can assist with more than just combat.”
“You mean, like with dogs?” I ask.
Imelda tilts her head, brows furrowed.
“Dogs can sense weather changes, and some people believe they can even tell if a person is not a good individual.” I explain.
“Ah, yes. That’s pretty much spot on, actually.” She nods, pulling out another piece of paper that she quickly reads over, but this one looks like a list. “Our dragons are mostly magical constructs. Beasts of primal and old magic, they are more attuned to things our humanoid halves could never hope to be. For example, they are sensitive to magics, emotions, auras, they bolster our senses and reflexes, they are more observant than us and tend to pick up on the tiniest of details. Their intuition is far greater than ours could ever be, so they act as an extra layer of protection. If your dragon feels uneasy or gives you an express warning, you do not ever ignore it.”
“So, say I just met this guy, and I might think he was a bit strange, but my dragon is……. I don’t know, wanting to claw his eyes out – I listen and get away from the guy?” I muse.
“Or gut him. Whichever seems easier.” Yelana throws in.
“Obviously, we would only gut him if there was no other option. But yes, your dragon has likely sensed something that you didn’t and its best to listen.” Imelda agrees.
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Territorialism. Draconic Fae are well known for our territorial displays.”
Nodding, I note it down and bullet point some parts.
“Is that what we’re called? Draconic Fae?”
“It’s more of an old term. Something that was commonly used in the 1600’s and before then, but more recently we tend to use Dragon Shifter. But, yes, some of the older Dragons still use the term Draconic.”
I note that for later, thinking it sounded kind of cool. Ancient and badass.
“So we tend to hog food?” I assume, shifting so my ass doesn’t go numb.

57%

“Okay. First thing first, I’m going to tell you something my own mother told me. She did so after my first shift – this is very important. Perhaps the most important thing I could teach you.”
Imploring me with a serious look, her stare willing me to understand the lividity of her words, I nod to show her I’m listening.
That I want to hear it – whatever scrap of culture she deems fit to give me.
Assured that she has my full attention, she sucks in a deep breath. “Sinta, the beast you are endeavouring to unlock belongs not just to you, but to your ancestors before you. The beasts we harbour are creatures that have been gifted to hundreds of generations. We share a soul, but a fraction of that soul is wholly them. Passed down through great bloodlines, as ancient as the land of faerie. Eternal and endless and glorious. When our forms emerge we not only gain a beast, but the legacy of every Fae that beast served before us. Before I gained my dragon, my great aunt bore the form of a Sapphire Scale. My brother inherited his Razor Scale from our mother.”
“So…… my father must be a green dragon?” I try to reason, my mind snagging on the bloodline part.
“No. We’d know if there were another green dragon out there. To put it simply, a dragon breed can be as recessive as…. Blue eyes, or red hair. Your parents could both have brown eyes and brown hair, but you might have blue eyes and blond hair, like your great-grandmother. A green dragon could be as far back as five generations in your bloodline….. only to surface in you. And as the last, you not only carry the legacy of your particular breed….. but the legacy of all greens before you.”
“And that….” Licking my lips, I ignore the heavy feeling on my chest. “That is a big deal?”
“Yes, Sinta. It’s a huge deal. In you is the culmination of thousands of years of breeding, magic, history, and inheritance. There are jewels and tomes and estates that, as the very last of your kind, you have the right to claim.”
Yelana grunts. “One of the many reasons we are doing our best to keep you secret. Gods knows how many egotistical asswipes would jump at the chance to manipulate you for that hoard.”
“Hoard…” I repeat.
A rumble warms my sternum. Gods, that sounded like a lot of responsibility.
“It is a tremendous honour, and a heavy weight to bear. But we are here to help you.”
“What does that inheritance… entail?” I question.
The word implies I would receive something, bequeathed by another. Or many others.
I didn’t know how I felt receiving things from people I didn’t know.
“We don’t need to worry about that yet. That’s for after you’ve shifted.” She says.
I relax back into the seat, nodding.
She takes that as her que to move on.
“So I think we’ll start with a biology lesson. It’s short and sweet and will be very important – especially with the Fever making things difficult.”
Yelana snorts a laugh.
The urge to cringe and hide behind a pillow is strong. “Biology?”
“Reproduction and sex education.” Imelda confirms.
I groan and hang my head.
“Trust me, you need to know this shit. The amount of times Imelda’s almost destroyed someone only to realise she was in rage mode from shark week is beyond counting at this point.” Yelana snickers.
“Hypocrisy, thy name is Yelana.” Imelda snaps.
“How much different can it be from how it is now?”
“Well, for one, getting our period after shifting extends it to more of a three-week cycle.” Imelda begins.
“What?!”
“Not in that way. We still only bleed for about three to six days. But for a week directly beforehand we go into what is called the Heat. We are more inclined to sex during this time – it feels like we are flustered and on fire if we do not deal with it.” She explains.
“If we don’t jump some poor guy every few hours, she means.” Yelana adds in.
Cringing at the visual that creates, I quickly jot down some notes.
“Then, of course, we bleed for a few days which tends to be the middle – or second – week. Then for the week after our hormones struggle to return to normal and we can be a tad…..….. destructive. Anger and violence often occur during this week. When my mother has her cycle, she takes no meetings and essentially locks herself away in the house with my father. A female dragon’s cycle and politics do not mix well.”
“Is it only dragons that deal with this?” I demand, slightly horrified.
And I thought dealing with the clean-up and cramps for a week were horrible. But three weeks of hormonal hell?
“No. In fact it is common for Dragon Shifters, Cat Shifters, some Canine Shifters, and I think some types of scavenger shifters like Raccoons, Minks, and Otters…..” She flips through a few papers and then nods concisely. “Yes, and a few Avian Shifters as well.”
“Glad to not be suffering alone.” I murmur and write a shorter version of all that down.
“As your Dragon gets closer to the surface you will experience this, though we can’t tell if you will get the full force of it or a dampened version. Do you know when your next period is?”
“Ah, no. It’s always been erratic. I feel a bit emotionally unstable and, well yeah, horny before I get it. It’s usually a day or two beforehand though.” I admit.
“That’s unusual. Our cycles tend to be predictable, down to the very minute. That’ll likely be because of the delayed shift.” Imelda murmurs and gives me a sympathetic look.
I shrug.
“Okay, on to reproduction. Are you on birth control?”
“Yes. I have the implant.” I poke where it is in my arm.
“That’s excellent. It is actually very hard for us to get pregnant, but its better safe than sorry.”
“Hard? Do Dragons have fertility issues?”
“No, not that the healers can determine. It’s more a natural evolution thing.” She muses, flipping through her papers and then making a ‘uh-huh’ sound when she finds the right one. “Whereas other Fae – if they were to have unprotected sex twenty times in a week – have a 60% to 90% chance of becoming pregnant, we only have about a 10% to 30% chance. Healers think its because we live for so long, there is no great need to frequently repopulate our race.”
“Right. Humans repopulate so fast because most only make it to the age of 60, and half of their population dies at least yearly. But if a race lives to see ages of 800 and upwards—”
“There is no need to be constantly popping out babies.” Yelana drawls. “Magic has quite a lot to do with Fae reproduction. Lady Fate likes to keep her finger on the scales to make sure everything is just right.”
Imelda nods her confirmation. “Yes. And some dragon females may choose to give birth in dragon form, like my mother did. Festos and I were born in the same clutch, however he hatched years earlier than I did. We are technically twins, but not. Humans may call it fraternal twins, but Fae call it clutchmates.”
“What if one of you hadn’t been a dragon? Like Aletha and me, she’s a unicorn.”
“Aletha?” Imelda questions.
“My twin. You might have seen her with Grande, we share the same facial features, but she’s paler than me and has blue eyes.”
“I thought you had a doppelganger running around!” Yelana exclaims. “A twin?!”
“She took after our mother.” I explain brusquely. “But what if our mother had been a dragon and chose to have eggs instead of a birth? What would have happened to Aletha?”
“She’d have died.” Imelda bluntly states. “If any of the children aren’t dragons, they are simply stillborn when the mother tries to lay eggs. However, being dragons doesn’t ensure survival either. Most of the eggs born to my clutch haven’t hatched yet, but that also isn’t unusual. They can safely remain in the egg for up to a century without worry. Any longer than that and the egg must be opened by force or the child inside is already dead.”
“Child? Not dragon?” I blurt and stop writing, shocked.
“Child, dragonling. There is no proof, because an egg is like stone and cannot be easily accessed, but it is believed we are in dragon form inside the egg and take humanoid form when it is time to hatch. Then when we are older our dragon is encouraged to surface again. I first shifted when I was nine, guided by my mother. My brother Festos shifted when he was seven. Honestly, what occurs inside the egg depends on who you ask, but no one has ever been willing to give up one of their eggs to be ripped open and studied. Its considered akin to handing over the corpse of your child to be experimented on. Unbearable.”
I nod, understanding that. I certainly couldn’t do it. Just thinking about a poor little dragon egg being crushed or broken made me want to tear up.
My Dragon rolls in my middle, warming my stomach with a hot agitated breath.
I palm my gut and drag in calming air.
“Birthing in humanoid form is much safer, especially if the mother is birthing something other than a dragonling. But, like I said, its something we rarely have to worry about.”
I nod. “I’m glad. The last thing I need right about now is a whoopsie baby.” I laugh softly and write all of that down with very big exclamation marks next to it.
“Amen.” Yelana mutters, her fingers hitting the keys with hard ‘click-clack-click’ sounds.
I wince at how roughly she handles the poor computer. She must need a new laptop often.
“Okay, I think that about covers Dragoness biology……. Let’s switch to instincts.” Imelda chirps.
That was… quick.
“Okay.”
“You’ve already experienced a little bit of that, after all you relied on a lot of your Dragon’s instincts when you fought Tremore. However, our beasts can assist with more than just combat.”
“You mean, like with dogs?” I ask.
Imelda tilts her head, brows furrowed.
“Dogs can sense weather changes, and some people believe they can even tell if a person is not a good individual.” I explain.
“Ah, yes. That’s pretty much spot on, actually.” She nods, pulling out another piece of paper that she quickly reads over, but this one looks like a list. “Our dragons are mostly magical constructs. Beasts of primal and old magic, they are more attuned to things our humanoid halves could never hope to be. For example, they are sensitive to magics, emotions, auras, they bolster our senses and reflexes, they are more observant than us and tend to pick up on the tiniest of details. Their intuition is far greater than ours could ever be, so they act as an extra layer of protection. If your dragon feels uneasy or gives you an express warning, you do not ever ignore it.”
“So, say I just met this guy, and I might think he was a bit strange, but my dragon is……. I don’t know, wanting to claw his eyes out – I listen and get away from the guy?” I muse.
“Or gut him. Whichever seems easier.” Yelana throws in.
“Obviously, we would only gut him if there was no other option. But yes, your dragon has likely sensed something that you didn’t and its best to listen.” Imelda agrees.
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Territorialism. Draconic Fae are well known for our territorial displays.”
Nodding, I note it down and bullet point some parts.
“Is that what we’re called? Draconic Fae?”
“It’s more of an old term. Something that was commonly used in the 1600’s and before then, but more recently we tend to use Dragon Shifter. But, yes, some of the older Dragons still use the term Draconic.”
I note that for later, thinking it sounded kind of cool. Ancient and badass.
“So we tend to hog food?” I assume, shifting so my ass doesn’t go numb.

Imelda tinkles a surprised laugh, and Yelana chuckles.
“We don’t hoard food?” I reproach with a wince.
“Oh, no, some of us do.” Imelda laughs. “But I was referring to stuff more along the lines of value. Some dragons can be extremely territorial over certain items they own, things they deem sentimental or important to them. Other dragons can be deathly territorial over people – especially if they care for them – people like mates, bed buddies, siblings.”
“This is an important one, cause we’re pretty sure you kicked Tremore’s ass because he fucked with Kenya.” Yelana points out.
“But I did.” I confirm, confused. “I didn’t like that he hurt Kenya.”
“And that was probably a big part of it, but it would’ve also been because your dragon placed a silent claim on Kenya. Claimed her as yours – part of your hoard, if you want to be specific.” Imelda adjusts her legs and crosses them at the knee, a hand rising to cradle her chin. “Tremore essentially touched something that not only you cared about, but your dragon believes she owns. In this case she very deeply cares for Kenya and was furious someone had damaged her. I have no doubt you yourself were furious that Tremore hurt her, but your dragon would have intensified that by a hundred and aided in the fight to assuage her own anger at her possession being damaged.”
“Do our dragons not see people as…. People?”
“Obviously they understand they aren’t possessions, but they still have people they consider to be theirs. Dragons have what is called a Wing – a group of individuals they trust above all, people they consider to be theirs in every sense. This group tends to consist of partners, husbands/wives, mates, siblings, parents, children, and very rarely extremely close friends.”
“So my dragon kind of adopted her.” I summarise and quickly condense the conversation in my notebook.
They both nod.
“Should I tell her?”
“It would be wise if you did. She needs to know what she’s been signed up for.” Yelana muses. “Unless, for some reason, you decide you shouldn’t tell her. Ultimately, it is up to you.”
“Got it.”
“Alrighty, I think that’s it for instincts……. I wanted to talk about making sure your dragon was comfortable with her surrounds and how to make sure she’s strong, but we can’t do that without knowing what type she is.” Imelda mutters, setting aside her folder to lean over and study the computer screen. “Have you gotten anywhere?”
“Yes, actually. I have three possibilities.” Yelana confirms.
Standing, I walk over and drop to sit on the floor so I can peer at the screen too.
“Option one, Swamp Dragon. Option two, a Venom Dragon. Or option three, a variation of a Flora Dragon. There are five variations of Flora Dragon; Moss-Scale Dragon, Tree-Dwelling Dragon, Thorn-Tail Dragon, Root Dragon, and a Club-Tail Dragon.”
Frowning, I point out, “That’s seven breeds.”
She shrugs. “If you want to look at it that way.”
“How do we narrow it down from there?” I wonder, eyeing the scale descriptions and old-looking paintings of them beside each.
None of them looked exactly like my scales, but they were close. Maybe each dragon’s scales looked slightly different? Like a fingerprint.
“We test you. Each of these dragons have likes and dislikes. Even dormant inside you, she will make it very clear which she prefers. That’ll tell us exactly what breed you are.” Imelda murmurs.
“And we are going to do this testing when?” I ask next. “It’s already 3:50pm, and our session ends at 4:00.”
They take a moment to think on that, so I stand and stretch and shake out my leg.
The burning cramp has dissipated, but I still felt off.
I’d never so much as been sick, so this whole Fever thing was messing with me more than I wanted to admit.
Sighing and tugging my T-shirt back on, I decided I was going to have a nap when I got back to the House. It was someone else’s turn for dinner tonight anyway.
“I think we’ll do it tomorrow.” Imelda decides, her gaze still focused on the laptop. “I’ll need to gather some items, and tomorrow’s session is an hour and a half, so we should have plenty of time.”
Yelana nods her agreement. “Yeah, I’ve got contacts that can get some of this stuff for us quick for a price. Tomorrow is best.”
“It’s not going to cost you too much, is it?” I ask, concerned about how much they may have to spend just to do some testing.
I could pay them back, but I had a feeling that would quickly bankrupt me.
“Nah. A few favours, maybe a party or two, no biggie.” Yelana waves off my concern and starts to pack up.
“It’s fine, Sinta. We said we’d help you and we will.” Imelda reassures me, standing and tugging me into a quick hug.
I liked that it was firm but fast. It satisfied my need for contact but didn’t trigger my issue with touch.
She had a strange knack for understanding people that I really respected.
“We have to race off for a language class. Will you be alright?”
“I’m fine, I’m just heading straight back to the House – all of my classes are done for the day.” I sigh, grabbing my bag and jacket.
“Text me when you get there. I’m not entirely confidant Grande will leave you be, now that I’ve publicly claimed you.” Imelda mutters.
“Spoilt, crafty, vain bitch with her disease-riddled crotch.” Yelana gripes.
I share a look with Imelda.
“I will.”
“Good. I’ll also compile a list of books you can read about our kind. Some will be mandatory, but others you can choose to read for more context and history.”
I nod and thank her with a smile.
We leave the study room and then the library, exchanging more quick hugs before parting ways.
It wasn’t raining outside, only slightly windy, so I left my jacket off while I walked.
Even feeling off and more tired than usual, I felt a step close to my future, a step closer to my culture.
It was definitely something to smile about.