Page 111 of Under Restless Skies

Katrine nods, appreciating the participation. “There’s only one way to stop a dragon from burning you. You need to kill it.”

She looks at each of us for a moment, as if checking if we realized the gravity of her words, then, seeming satisfied, continues, “Now, while we can’t stop a living dragon from torching us, there are a few things we know that can help you when you’re up in the air, facing those monsters. First, there’s a delay. This is the most important point. From the moment they open their mouths and you see the spark on the back of their throat until the moment they launch a blast of fire, there could be anywhere between three and eight seconds.”

“Wow, an eternity,” Nelly whispers.

I chuckle silently, then think back to the dragon who healed me, think back to the moment when I saw his mouth open and that flame within his throat. Was he about to burn me and changed his mind? But why?

Katrine then says, “Older, bigger dragons take longer. Not that much longer, mind you. Auranius does not take a year to launch his fire, like some recruit always suggests whenever I teach this class. It’s eight seconds or so.”

I recall all the times I saw our giant dragon flying above us and realize I never saw him breathing fire.

She continues, “If you’re a good flier, four seconds can be enough for an evasive maneuver, and that’s why you spend so long learning to fly. It will help you stay alive.”

In my years of watching gliders, I never saw them make a sharp movement that could evade a fire blast, but maybe I’ve never seen great fliers. Even then, dragons can hit us with their tails, heads, and paws, and they’re much faster than gliders.

Katrine looks at each of us. “A few seconds might also be enough for one of our ballista operators to get them. So there’s always hope. Also, we didn’t get to the good part yet; the recovery. A dragon can’t just keep launching fire all the time. The blast lasts at most five to ten seconds, and then they have to pause. The time varies between twenty seconds and one minute and depends on how long their last fire blast was and how much fire they have been launching. Regardless, they’ll always give you a break. So, after a fire blast, they won’t be breathing fire for a few seconds. It’s a good time to attack them.”

She points at the cabinet with the books. “Each table, take a book. You’ll be reading chapter seven.”

Celine promptly gets up, brings the book, and recites the text. It’s mostly the same thing the instructor told us, and quite boring, but she reads with so much enthusiasm that she manages to make me appreciate the dreary writing—or at least tolerate it.

I wonder then when dragons start to breathe fire, thinking about little Ava and Vos, but the book obviously has no answer for that. Like most of my questions, it remains unanswered.

I stare at the cup with hot tea in my hand and take a deep breath, trying to gather enough courage to drink the most disgusting thing in the world. I’m in the infirmary with Nelly and Celine, extremely thankful for my second-year friend, who told me I could get bitter tea here, as I was considering going to the restaurant and asking Laristella for some. But they have it at the academy. Now Nelly and I are both holding our dreadful drinks.

Golden oil is effective, but on its own, might not be enough. At least it’s what Laristella told me. To make things worse, Alayel forgot to pull out a few times, and now I definitely don’t trust the oil to prevent me from getting pregnant.

I place the cup on my lips, shut my eyes, and take a sip. Bitter, bitter, bitter. The worst thing ever. Nelly takes a sip of hers and grimaces.

Celine laughs at us. “You know, I heard Cardiana made the tea bitter on purpose, so we think twice before sleeping with someone. It has to be so good that it makes up for the taste.”

Nelly shakes her head. “It’s not like we do them at the same time, Celine, or like we’re thinking about tea when… you know.”

Celine crosses her arms, but keeps her tone playful. “I don’t know, actually. I have no idea with whom you’ve been doing activities that require bitter tea.”

“No one important.” She lowers her voice. “It’s not like Mayara here, with her royal cock.” My cheeks turn red, and Nelly adds, “I’m joking.”

I want to change the subject, and I’m also annoyed at having to drink this tea, even annoyed at Alayel, who hasn’t been careful. “The thing that pisses me off is that only we, women, have to choose wisely, consider if it’s worth it, only we have to drink this horrible thing, as if we were being punished for something that men also do.”

Nelly gives a half shrug. “We’re the ones who can get pregnant.”

“And they can just walk away, careless and free.” It’s my father who comes to mind, that man whose face I don’t even remember.

Celine nods. “It’s unfair, yes. And yet when some of them don’t walk away, it can be terrible too.”

I wonder if she has some trauma, some wound, but I don't want to upset her by poking it. One day, maybe, she’ll open up—when she’s ready.

For now, I drink as much of the tea as I can, then we head to our room to get ready for the star nectar party, while the thunderstorm rages outside. I haven’t seen Alayel all day, but I hope I’ll meet him at the Outer Beach, or maybe I’ll come to his room later.

Cynthia hasn’t been around since the morning, and I sincerely hope she’s all right.

Celine carries a lumos lantern as the three of us take the trail to the Outer Beach. When we’re far from the castle, she mutters, “We got some news about Sheila.”

“Who’s that?” Nelly asks.

“Cynthia’s friend,” I reply. I only saw the girl once, but I’m anxious, wondering if she survived the attack. “Good news?” I ask Celine.

She looks down, and I know the answer.