attractive he was, and how very expressionless, and how only twenty-four hours ago he had asked me to marry him and I’d never bothered to answer.
“I hope there’s no trouble with it,” I said awkwardly.
“Don’t worry, Lora. No one ever gives me trouble about anything anymore.”
Except you, he might as well have finished.
The air felt heavy and sad. Even the fire seemed sad, the last, diminished tongues of flame beginning to flicker out. I opened my mouth to add something else, something encouraging or cheerful or even just a polite goodbye … but instead I Turned and flowed away.
Armand watched me go. He didn’t say goodbye, either.
Chapter 5
Before the war, I had never given a second thought to moonless nights.
But before the war, I’d never been given a reason to.
Now I had one.
For a few terrible nights a month, every month, England went dark. In London and Brighton and towns up and down the coast, windows were papered in black. Streetlights were extinguished. Carriages and automobiles combed the streets without the help of lanterns, and everyone hurried to get home before dusk. Just carrying a rushlight outside to check on the family dog was considered a foolish risk, not only for you but for all your neighbors as well.
Even at Iverson, we kept the oil lamps and chandeliers cold.
Because on the moonless nights, German airships slunk across the Channel. And they had bellies full of bombs.
With my dragon hearing I’d learned to recognize two new sounds since the war began:
Thup-thup-thup-thup .
That was the sound made by the propellers of the airships.
And: shoom-shoom-shoom .
The engines of a U-boat.
I listened for them every night before falling asleep, but, oh, on those damned dark nights when the moon went away, it seemed I was either awake in my bed or else smoke above the Channel, drifting. Waiting.
Even after the stars would whisper reassurances (safe, beast, tonight you’re safe) , I kept my vigil. If I stopped paying attention, who would hear Death descending? Armand’s hearing wasn’t as keen as mine, not yet. So there was only me.
Smoke-thing, winged-thing. An injured monster who couldn’t even hold her shape half the time.
But still.
After leaving Tranquility that night, I didn’t return to my room. I floated with the wind out to sea, letting it thin me sheer, hoping it might ease the bittersweet ache that felt as real as anything solid above or below me.
Jesse was still here. Somehow, still here.
A boy in the stars.
Where are you? I wondered, mist beneath their shimmer. I love you, where are you?
safe, beast, was all I got in response. tonight you are safe.
Chapter 6
The school was awash in the news of Aubrey’s survival, but even that could not usurp the bubbly, simmering excitement of this year’s upcoming graduation. I was in the tenth-year class, the second-to-final year before we were unchained and loosed like primped and powdered lionesses upon society. So although I personally wasn’t going to graduate from the esteemed Iverson School for Girls (or, as Sophia once put it, “this wretched pile of rocks”) in about a week’s time, I was still expected to contribute to the official celebration.
Every year but mine had a single, chosen girl perform some role at the ceremony to send off the graduating class. The younger pupils mostly presented bouquets or demonstrated their curtsies. But it was Iverson tradition for all the tenth-year students to do something showcasing their own particular talents. Even scholarship students.
I assumed that because the graduating girls had suffered through this the year before, all that was required of them now was to sit in the audience with their parents and make fun of us.
Lillian, Mittie, and Caroline were going to take turns reading a poem they had composed. Stella and Beatrice were going to sing a duet while Malinda accompanied them on the piano.
Sophia was going to recite a passage from one of the
“I hope there’s no trouble with it,” I said awkwardly.
“Don’t worry, Lora. No one ever gives me trouble about anything anymore.”
Except you, he might as well have finished.
The air felt heavy and sad. Even the fire seemed sad, the last, diminished tongues of flame beginning to flicker out. I opened my mouth to add something else, something encouraging or cheerful or even just a polite goodbye … but instead I Turned and flowed away.
Armand watched me go. He didn’t say goodbye, either.
Chapter 5
Before the war, I had never given a second thought to moonless nights.
But before the war, I’d never been given a reason to.
Now I had one.
For a few terrible nights a month, every month, England went dark. In London and Brighton and towns up and down the coast, windows were papered in black. Streetlights were extinguished. Carriages and automobiles combed the streets without the help of lanterns, and everyone hurried to get home before dusk. Just carrying a rushlight outside to check on the family dog was considered a foolish risk, not only for you but for all your neighbors as well.
Even at Iverson, we kept the oil lamps and chandeliers cold.
Because on the moonless nights, German airships slunk across the Channel. And they had bellies full of bombs.
With my dragon hearing I’d learned to recognize two new sounds since the war began:
Thup-thup-thup-thup .
That was the sound made by the propellers of the airships.
And: shoom-shoom-shoom .
The engines of a U-boat.
I listened for them every night before falling asleep, but, oh, on those damned dark nights when the moon went away, it seemed I was either awake in my bed or else smoke above the Channel, drifting. Waiting.
Even after the stars would whisper reassurances (safe, beast, tonight you’re safe) , I kept my vigil. If I stopped paying attention, who would hear Death descending? Armand’s hearing wasn’t as keen as mine, not yet. So there was only me.
Smoke-thing, winged-thing. An injured monster who couldn’t even hold her shape half the time.
But still.
After leaving Tranquility that night, I didn’t return to my room. I floated with the wind out to sea, letting it thin me sheer, hoping it might ease the bittersweet ache that felt as real as anything solid above or below me.
Jesse was still here. Somehow, still here.
A boy in the stars.
Where are you? I wondered, mist beneath their shimmer. I love you, where are you?
safe, beast, was all I got in response. tonight you are safe.
Chapter 6
The school was awash in the news of Aubrey’s survival, but even that could not usurp the bubbly, simmering excitement of this year’s upcoming graduation. I was in the tenth-year class, the second-to-final year before we were unchained and loosed like primped and powdered lionesses upon society. So although I personally wasn’t going to graduate from the esteemed Iverson School for Girls (or, as Sophia once put it, “this wretched pile of rocks”) in about a week’s time, I was still expected to contribute to the official celebration.
Every year but mine had a single, chosen girl perform some role at the ceremony to send off the graduating class. The younger pupils mostly presented bouquets or demonstrated their curtsies. But it was Iverson tradition for all the tenth-year students to do something showcasing their own particular talents. Even scholarship students.
I assumed that because the graduating girls had suffered through this the year before, all that was required of them now was to sit in the audience with their parents and make fun of us.
Lillian, Mittie, and Caroline were going to take turns reading a poem they had composed. Stella and Beatrice were going to sing a duet while Malinda accompanied them on the piano.
Sophia was going to recite a passage from one of the
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