The Dragon's Vow or the Stubborn Bride

Auzi?? Edgars

– What kind of book is this, Mirre?

Ashsheri Tix took a textbook on the basics of elemental spells from the windowsill, which I used as a backdrop.

– Oh, sorry for the mess, eshsheri. I was just refreshing my knowledge before leaving. You are not allowed to take a textbook with you, and the most powerful elemental magicians and dragons study at the Academy of Wind and Storms. I don’t want to lose face in front of the local adherents and disgrace the glorious name of our boarding house.

I said all this, embarrassed, and in such an unctuous voice that I even felt sick. Ashsher was completely warped, but more because of how cleverly I managed to get out.

“Commendable, Blackrock student, commendable.” – Grymza was flattered by my words. “The rest of us have an extra task for the evening, since there’s nothing else to do besides gossip.” Learn paragraphs thirteen through twenty-eight on obedience theory. Let's do an additional lesson.

– Yes, ashsheri director! – the pupils answered in unison, mentally howling.

There was nothing more humiliating than this trashy book. If there was a will, each pupil would burn it, and feed the ashes to Grymza and her henchmen with a small spoon without salt and pepper.

– Blackrock, follow me! – the headmistress commanded, interrupting the flow of my thoughts.

Picking up my half-empty suitcase and coat, which were already waiting on the bed, I joyfully left the room, hoping that I would never return here again.

Still, something bothered me. For example, exit time. It was planned to leave only in the morning, but now, even though it’s evening, it’s not even dark yet! However, I did not dare to ask why this was so. Once again, it’s better not to contact Grymza first – it’s a bad omen. And it was not a matter of superstition, but of her bad character. Now I was most afraid of frightening off my luck, so I was silent until we went out onto the back porch, next to which a gig with a folded phaeton was already waiting on the driveway, Bathmore, the boarding house’s regular driver, was sitting on the box.

Autumn this year came ahead of time, and as soon as the sun leaned towards the horizon, it became chilly, and at night it was downright cold, so I, instantly shivering, began to hastily put on my coat.

“Bathmore will take you to the South Station of the Travel Bureau,” the director deigned to inform Ashsheri, condescendingly watching my awkward attempts to get into the sleeve.

Out of confusion, I couldn’t catch him, and besides, the bag hanging on the crook of my elbow got in the way.

– Right now? But the academy stagecoach will only arrive in the morning!

I really didn’t like the idea of spending the night right at the station.

– The stagecoach is already waiting at the Travel Bureau station. I was informed a little less than half an hour ago, so I came to hurry you up. Are you ready?

Grymza's question confused me. Usually she was not interested in such trifles as the readiness of her pupils.

“Y-yes…” I answered, finally mastering the sleeve and began to fasten the buttons. But having fastened two, she stopped. – More precisely, no! Ashsheri Director, everything is so sudden! I didn’t have time to prepare to leave… – Seeing that Grymza’s eyebrows were converging on the bridge of her nose, she hastily explained in a whisper: “Can I go to the restroom before the road?”

The face of the woman, whose age had frozen somewhere between the sixth and seventh decades for thirty years, smoothed out.

– Certainly. But hurry up.

– Thank you, eshsheri director!

I put the bag right on the porch and rushed back to the door.

– Blackrock, what kind of gait is that? Why are you rushing like crazy? Where is the dignity? – the whip whistled from behind.

– Sorry!

I straightened up, turned my shoulders and hastily trotted off, as decency required. I broke into a run again when my inappropriate behavior was hidden by the door. I still looked into the toilet. It was true that the matter was necessary, but the main purpose of the absence and the choice of place lay elsewhere. Climbing onto the wide windowsill, I opened the sash of the window overlooking the park and, looking outside, called quietly:

– Simka!

Simka is my familiar Simuran. Actually, elementals don’t have such familiars, but I’m not a completely normal elementalist. I was born an empty nester, and received the gift just two years ago. At sixteen years old, and not at twelve or thirteen, as expected. And even then I received it in an unusual way, but that’s a completely different story*.

My older sister Talaria gave me the SIM card. She saved a little simuran with a broken wing. While he was being treated, the baby’s mother disappeared somewhere, and he had to be left behind. But Simka grew up to be such a hooligan that they willingly gave him away to me, which made me incredibly happy, because I had a pet and a true friend that I had always dreamed of.

Simka and I had love at first sight, but my mother barely survived his stay at the Blackrock estate. Not only did the wolf cub spoil things, but he also scared her on purpose, which is why we all experienced many unpleasant moments. But I was able to insist on my own and pacified both of them – the simuran and my mother too. Surprisingly, my father only chuckled as he watched our battles and flatly refused to take anyone’s side.

– Simka? – I called again, hearing some rustling in the lush thickets of the garden euonymus.

This time we didn’t have to wait long, and from the largest bush, a smiling wolf’s face, white with green spots and stripes, looked out.

– Are you here! “I exhaled with relief and, easily jumping over the window sill, hugged the simuran, who did not stick out of the bushes completely, but only up to his neck. “Is it just me, or have you grown up again?”

Simka licked my nose, making me wince and wipe myself off. I couldn’t talk to him mentally, but the simuran understood me perfectly, and I understood him too.

When I was sent to a boarding school, Simka followed me and lived secretly here in the vast park. How he managed to get food, I never found out. He probably hunted chickens at night in the surrounding villages. Or on rabbits and birds in the mountains, fortunately his wing had grown together long ago, and he flew perfectly. But I would rather believe that Simka steals food from the local kitchen. I heard the housekeeper swear at the cook, and the cook at the unknown thief.

To prevent Simka from being caught, because he is so clean and all white, I regularly tinted his fur with green pigment, which my sister taught me to prepare. Fortunately, the ingredients there were trivial. Now the dye had almost peeled off from the simuran’s fur, and he amused me with his spotted colors, which hid him so well among the white-green leaves and gave my winged wolf a particularly hooligan look of a warrior on a mission. Sometimes they also paint their faces like this in order to be more invisible. As Talaria says: “Rely on magic, but don’t make a mistake yourself!”