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I glanced at Nyxaris, hiding a smile. The hatchling stepped forward, her eyes bright and intelligent. Then she sneezed in a puff of warm gold sparks. A student at a nearby table hastily gathered their books and evacuated.

I laughed. “I hope she’s got the flame-wielding under control.” I thought of something. “Is this the only one that hatched? How are the other eggs?”

Florence flushed guiltily. “There are three.”

“Three?” I exclaimed. “Three baby dragons? Where are the others?”

“They’re very small,” she explained. “The other two are in the nursery. We have someone with them at all times.”

I pulled out a chair from the recently vacated table across from them and slumped into it. “Three dragons.” I gestured to Molly. “And she’s just … walking around?”

“We haven’t kept her a secret.” Florence bit her lip. “Things are very different in the Sable Isles. Everyone adores Molly.”

“Sure, but this will spread outside of the Sable Isles soon,” I said. “What then?”

Nyxaris had taken a seat across from me. “It will certainly be a matter of much discussion.”

I coughed. “Discussion? It’s going to cause riots. Political crises. New religions. You know the dwarves worship dragons, right?” We’d realized that eventually after a few of the things Zaira and Kazmyn had said belowground.

“Better than worshiping highbloods,” Nyxaris said, narrowing his eyes.

I thought about that for a second. “You might have a point.” At least, unless the dragons became just as tyrannical. I was really going to have to take a look at that memoir Nyxaris was writing.

“I am putting together a curriculum for them.”

I stared. “What? You’re sending the baby dragons to school?”

“Of course.” Nyxaris looked offended. “You of all people should know these are highly intelligent beings. They’ll require careful training, a knowledge of their own history. Not to mention lessons in restraint and discipline.” He glanced at Molly, who had discovered a piece of pastry left unattended on a nearby table and was swallowing it whole. “A great deal of discipline.”

“Oh no, Molly, don’t do that. You know it’ll only make you sick later,” Florence said with distress as she noticed.

“Blake is right, though,” Pendragon said slowly. “What will the rest of Sangratha do when they learn there are not just one but four dragons here?”

Nyxaris frowned. “They’ll stay away, if they know what’s good for them.”

There was quiet for a long moment. Then the subject was quickly changed. Food and drinks were brought to the table. The afternoon stretched out, mellow and golden. Around us, tables filled and emptied. Sometimes a student or staff member would come up and greet Florence or Nyxaris, and Pendragon and I would be briefly introduced. I knew Nyxaris had been working as an instructor at the school.

The Somnaria Institute, in contrast to Bloodwing, was not a war college; it was primarily a research institution. House Orphos valued knowledge and learning. Even though Lunaya and Lysander were gone, that tradition seemed in no danger of changing. From what I understood, Somnaria had been quick to leap at the chance to have a Duskdrake teaching classes on dragon history and anatomy. Meanwhile, Florence had left her studies at Bloodwing and was doing graduate-level work in alchemy and restoration magic under the mentorship of Dr. Meghal Patel, a professor who had been close friends with Vasanti Allenvale.

By the time Florence’s mother came to join us, the afternoon light was beginning to fade. Jia Shen brought a companion with her. An older blightborn woman of perhaps fifty or so, with a striking sharp-featured face and warm brown eyes. Jia introduced her to us as Reba Wells, a professor of religion and mythology.

“Call me Reb,” Professor Wells said, smiling warmly at us. Reba was a highblood. Her pale blond hair was cropped short and had bright purple streaks in it. She wore a beautifully tailored gold suit, and when she sat down I saw her socks were bright purple to match her hair. They stayed with us for a while, conversation settling into an easy rhythm. Eventually Jia and Reba stood up and hustled Persis and Molly off with them for supper.

Before she left, Jia squeezed Pendragon’s hand, then mine, too. “It’s good to have you both here.”

“It’s good to be here,” I said, a little shyly.

The sea had gone a deeper blue now. Across the terrace, staff were rearranging the tables and chairs. Florence had explained that there were concerts most evenings and sometimes poetry recitals. I was hoping tonight wasn’t going to be poetry.

I realized Nyxaris was looking between Pendragon and me.

“I imagine you two would like to see what you came here for?”

“We came to see all of you,” Pendragon pointed out. She glanced at me. “But yes, that might be a good idea.”

They led us back through the library and then into the school, down quiet corridors and then to a staircase that led down to the lower level. Finally, Florence pushed open a heavy door and we entered a large, high-ceilinged laboratory. I saw tables covered with notebooks and tablets, coils of wire and tools that seemed to be dwarven. At the far end of the room stood two arches, one of pale white stone. I knew it had been recovered from the O’Rourke estate. Its opening was empty and its surface was dull. The other arch was much newer, of a pale green stone that I knew had come from Thrazdummar. Runes were inscribed across its surface.

“Kazmyn and I did most of the work,” Florence said, crossing the room to stand near the green arch. “But we had a lot of help. We had a lengthy correspondence going with scholars of runic history from the University of Thrazdummar.” She bit her lip. “I don’t know if we got everything right.”