Everyone is still wondering how Jacob could ever define what Vice Principal Caradoc just did as a circus trick. Had he lost his mind?

  “Jacob,” Vyrrak says, “what do you even mean?”

  Vyrrak is surprised that Vice Principal Caradoc has not yet lost his composure, but he wonders if it is only a matter of time before the old man expels Jacob from the class, or worse.

  “This human is clearly someone who should not even be here. Caradoc’s kindness in allowing him to make a mockery of himself is already an act of generosity. Yet no one should insult a true expert like this. No one among Dragonkind would ever dream of uttering such words,” Queen Syrraxia says and then looks at Jacob with confusion. She does not understand why he would say something like that. She does not like Caradoc herself, but insulting a man of his standing achieves nothing. What does Jacob think he is accomplishing?

  Vyrrak, Guinevere, and Queen Syrraxia all find themselves puzzled by Vice Principal Caradoc’s reaction. He does not lose his composure. He does not flare with anger. He simply watches Jacob with calm interest.

  Why is he not reacting more strongly to such a wild and unjust accusation?

  Queen Syrraxia, for her part, is eager for Jacob to be expelled now that she understands he stands firmly on Vyrrak’s side. She realizes she has clearly underestimated the political weight carried by the title of Leader of Champions.

  “You should be careful of what you say when your understanding is the one of a pig trying to put a thread through a needle.”

  “Who did you just a call a pig!? You’re a mindless pig!” Queen Syrraxia is beside herself. “You cannot appreciate the godlike technique Vice Principal Caradoc just showed you. You do not deserve to watch him move. You do not deserve to breathe the same air he does!”

  Her voice trembles with outrage. She looks like she would happily throw Jacob through the nearest wall if the Vice Principal were not standing there.

  Vice Principal Caradoc laughs.

  The sound is sharp and clean. It shocks the students even more than Jacob’s insult.

  He lifts a hand before Syrraxia can spit more insults.

  “Calm yourself, Queen Syrraxia,” Caradoc says. He looks at Jacob. “Explain yourself, Jacob Cloud. I am curious. Why is the Dance of Dragons a circus trick in your eyes.”

  Jacob breathes out slowly.

  “What you showed is a flawed copy of the technique real Dragons used,” Jacob says.

  You could hear a pin drop.

  “It only circulates the mana outside your body,” Jacob says. “You write fire on the air. You should circulate it inside. The real Dance of Dragons runs through bone and blood first. The flames come after because there is nowhere else for the power to go.”

  A shiver passes through Vyrrak. He looks at Caradoc again as if he sees a missing layer now. Syrraxia’s mouth opens, then closes. She clearly has never heard that detail in her own royal lessons.

  Caradoc’s eyes narrow the smallest amount. He does not deny it.

  “My own master told me as much,” Jacob clarifies. “He instructed me before coming to see you on what you know. And he told me this is a trick you love to play on students. The reason Vyrrak has not mastered this yet is because you didn’t allow him to. This was stacked from the very beginning.”

  Vice Principal Caradoc smiles and he nods.

  “Interesting,” he says. “Very interesting. Well, I guess you foiled my plans. But what Vyrrak’s father said stands. He can learn the technique and become a Breaker if he want to save his marriage with Queen Guinevere, though. Also…”

  The diminutive old man scratches his chin.

  “Would you be able to give us a demonstration then. If your master told you so much and to come see me, he must know I’d want to see you perform the Dance of Dragons before teaching you anything.”

  Jacob blinks. “This is the first time I saw it,” he says. “My body is not that strong for this.”

  “Oh, what a pity. Then, I fear—”

  “But you know what? Why not. Just one second.”

  Jacob cracks his neck and walks to the center of the class.

  Queen Syrraxia is the first to feel great agitation.

  She has learned the Dance of Dragons, but barely. She can barely master it enough to pass the 302 Class of Vice Principal Caradoc. But she is a Royal Dragonkin, not just any Dragonkin. And Royal Dragonkins have the thickest blood in their race, the closest to real Dragons.

  If Jacob Cloud, if this wimp, in her eyes, is capable of performing it just off seeing it once… then, what does it say about her? Is she a lizard or a Dragonkin? How could a simple human like this perform a real Dance of Dragons as he described it, as taught by none other than Vice Principal Caradoc and…

  No, no.

  Queen Syrraxia shakes her head as she watches attentively. This cannot be. This human is going to fail, she tells herself.

  Because if he did not…

  Then is it insufficient Draconic blood that made her fail to master higher states of it or her own incompetence that she’s been hiding behind a not-so-quite-perfect heritage?

  The black-scaled Dragonkin doesn’t want to even ponder such an option.

  Vice Principal Caradoc tilts his head. “How do you prefer to learn,” he asks. “Through runic notation or a direct display.”

  “There is no need for either,” Jacob says.

  The room stirs.

  “No need,” Queen Syrraxia repeats under her breath.

  Jacob steps onto the training floor. He draws in a breath. He reaches inward for the Grimoire.

  He has seen it once and flaws have been compiled since Vice Principal Caradoc only showed an elementary version that was flawed on purpose.

  “Let’s dance,” Jacob smiles and starts moving ever-so-slowly.

  Jacob starts moving.

  He mirrors Caradoc’s footwork at first. His steps are slower since he’s following mental diagrams generated by the Grimoire. But they’re not different. They’re identical to the diminutive old man’s.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He moves his limbs, but there’s no fire for the moment. There’s not the same fiery blaze that blossomed from Vice Principal Caradoc’s movements.

  Not at first, at least.

  He’s circulating fire inside his body. If he was training anything but an Infernal Class—Infernal themselves have quite an Affinity for Fire Magic—he wouldn’t be able to handle this. Infernal Veins is doing the heavy lifting here.

  And as the Skill activates fully, red and dark lines crawl over his arms and neck.

  “Oof,” Jacob exhales. His body is wrecked by the pain that even with Infernal Veins is not receding. It feels like someone is pouring molten lead through his veins.

  His skin splits in thin lines along his forearms and shoulders. Blood beads up and hisses when it touches the air.

  He sways on his feet. He grits his teeth and forces himself not to drop.

  Suddenly, for the briefest moment, a fiery aura bursts through the classroom, releasing a minor shockwave.

  Jacob suddenly stops and falls to his knees, heaving loudly.

  The Infernal Veins fade. The inkling of fire around him winks out.

  But everyone in the room felt it. For a moment, there was a Diamond-ranked aura in the class.

  And Jacob is still technically a Gold Rank.

  Queen Syrraxia is very silent.

  Jacob wipes a thin line of blood from his arm. His fingers shake.

  “As I’ve said already, the reason I came to this class for the first time,” Jacob says, “is because I have something to ask you. It relates to the Dance of Dragons. Now that you’ve seen it, I hope I’m worthy of your guidance, Professor Caradoc.”

  He looks straight at Caradoc when he says it.

  From Vice Principal Caradoc’s point of view, the boy looks like a cracked pot filled with lava.

  He sees the way Jacob’s aura flared. He felt the brief Diamond pressure. He saw how the kid’s skin split.

  It’s…

  Incredible.

  He has no other words for it.

  Just… incredible.

  Caradoc straightens his back. He takes a dignified tone. He acts very pleased with himself.

  “You have come to the right place,” he says. “If you want to walk the path of the Dance, this classroom is only thing that can still point in that direction.”

  Inside, he feels a sour mix of satisfaction and unease. He did not teach Jacob that circulation. Someone else did.

  Jacob nods.

  “My master recently passed away,” Jacob says. “He told me you are the only person he trusts to give a slightly above mediocre set of lessons to me on the Dance.”

  The words hit Caradoc in two different places.

  “Recently passed away.” “Slightly above mediocre.”

  The students look at Jacob, stunned. Even Vyrrak stares.

  “Father respects Vice Principal Caradoc,” Vyrrak says. “He calls him the Flaming Tyrant. He never calls him mediocre. What kind of insane arrogant person says that about him.”

  Queen Syrraxia reacts with similar outrage. “Your master was a fool,” she says. “Or blind. Or both.”

  Guinevere is quiet. She is worried now. If this is how the man who leads the Champions talks about teachers, what kind of influence does he have on her husband.

  The phrasing grates on Caradoc’s ears. “Slightly above mediocre.” The tone. The casual arrogance.

  Am I getting old? Who used to say that?

  The way Jacob spoke sounds very familiar.

  Caradoc searches his memory. He cannot place it yet. The feeling scratches at the back of his skull.

  Vice Principal Caradoc pushes the thought aside. He will chase it later.

  For now, he looks at Jacob and lets his expression soften.

  “I am very impressed with you,” Caradoc says. He does not fake that part. “Your insight is reckless, yet accurate. Your control is poor, yet your grasp of the pattern is better than most Dragonkins I have tested.”

  He showers Jacob with praise.

  “I am ready to assist you with whatever you need on this subject,” Caradoc says at the end.

  Caradoc sees a pleased Jacob and he moves in.

  “If you want me to teach you,” Caradoc says, “there will be one condition. You must exclude Vyrrak from all Special Quests. From now on.”

  The room goes very quiet. Caradoc hears his own heartbeat.

  “What did you just say?” Jacob frowns.

  “Well, as long as Vyrrak is not willing to learn the Dance of Dragons, I don’t want him to take part in Champion activities. He’s not worthy of them. For someone of his station to refuse to learn what his blood was always meant to be… he can’t involve others in his foolishness.”

  acob’s eyes narrow. “What if I do not,” Jacob asks.

  “Then there is no teaching,” Caradoc says. “You are free to leave my classroom right now then.”

  Vice Principal Caradoc expects Jacob to accept.

  Whoever told Jacob to come to him must have handed the boy a powerful technique. A master who can see flaws in the Dance of Dragons does not waste praise. The kid has a golden ticket in his hands. Most students would burn a friend to ash to keep that kind of advantage.

  Vice Principal Caradoc thinks Jacob will give up Vyrrak immediately. The logic is simple. One Dragonkin for a path into Primordial fire. The Academy would call that a fair trade.

  He is wrong.

  The first reaction, however, is Vyrrak’s.

  “I would rather die than follow what you just offered,” Vyrrak shouts. “If this is your idea of teaching, old man, I will go back home and withstand trial with my father’s court! I will fight this to death!”

  He turns and storms toward the door. His tail lashes so hard that it cracks a training dummy in half. The air behind him shimmers from the heat of his anger.

  “Kid, stop!” Vice Principal Caradoc calls. “You don’t know what you’re saying!”

  Vyrrak does not stop.

  “I will be generous,” Caradoc says. “You will have three days to master the technique we discussed. If you fail, the marriage to Queen Syrraxia becomes binding. The contract activates.”

  Vyrrak freezes for half a heartbeat. He does not look back. Then he rips the door open and leaves. The hallway outside echoes with the slamming of the door’s fragments to the paved ground.

  Queen Syrraxia’s smile returns. She looks very satisfied with herself.

  Guinevere does not move.

  Jacob notices that. Syrraxia rises with regal satisfaction and walks out of the room as if the outcome has already been decided.

  Guinevere stays where she is. Her hands clutch the fabric of her skirt. Her eyes are on Jacob and Caradoc now, not on the door Vyrrak just used. Worry and calculation fight in her face.

  Caradoc turns back to Jacob.

  He expects bargaining. He expects hesitation. He expects the kind of hunger he has seen in countless students.

  Instead he sees a cold rage mount in the kid.

  Jacob’s face turns dark. His jaw sets. His eyes fill with disgust.

  “I would rather die on a spike than give up a friend like that,” Jacob says.

  For a moment the memory in Caradoc’s head flares. He hears the same tone in a long-dead king who once said, “I would rather burn my own throne than beg you for mercy.”

  Who the hell said that? Vice Principal Caradoc thinks hard but the figure in his mind is still very hazy. An ancient one, though, for sure. He can tell that much.

  Then Jacob turns. He walks out of the room without looking back just like Vyrrak just did.

  Vice Principal Caradoc frowns.

  He does not understand what just happened. He offered a bargain that any ambitious student should have taken. They both refused.

  He looks up in time to see Guinevere move.

  She dips her head once to him. She turns and follows Jacob out of the classroom.

  “Sir Jacob.”

  The voice comes from behind him in the corridor.

  Jacob stops. The words surprise him. Not many people call him “sir.”

  Guinevere stands there. She looks composed on the surface. Her hands twist the edge of her cloak.

  “Yes,” Jacob says. He cannot help the small question in his tone.

  “I would like a word.”

  “You can stay assured,” Jacob says. “I will not sell out Vyrrak. It does not matter what they offer. Skills. Primordial techniques. Relics. None of it matters.” He meets her eyes. “If someone with power thinks he can make me dance like a marionette just because he dangles a Skill in front of me, he understood nothing about me. He understood nothing about what it means to me to be a Champion. Especially to be the Guide of Champions.”

  Guinevere nods, “I never doubted it. I can tell your character from your eyes. I’m here because… Vyrrak is very proud. All those related to Dragons are. Pride runs in their blood like fire. He will not ask for help. He will not admit he needs help, even if he does.”

  Guinevere looks down the corridor to make sure no one is close enough to listen. The torches crackle on the walls. The classroom door stays shut behind them.

  “I have something to reveal to you,” Guinevere says. “You have heard that Vyrrak holds a title. They call him King Vyrrak.”

  Jacob nods. “Hard to miss,” he says. “He does not shut up about how much he hates it.”

  Guinevere looks back at him. “He is not really a king,” she says. “At least, the Draconic Courts wouldn’t really agree with such a title. The title is a lie, and the reason ties into everything that is happening right now.”