I didn’t really like the prayer room. It was painfully obvious how much finer it was than the lounge space given to us children. I hated having to look at those boxes. The sight of them filled me with a dread that I couldn’t shake. Normally I wouldn’t come here even if someone asked me, but right now I didn’t have a choice.
Most of the children in the prayer room were between my age and perhaps fourteen or fifteen. My guess was that we would stop being allowed in once we were older than that. For the wide diversity of races here, there were many more of some than others. A great number of the instructors and the older cohorts were manborns. That was what I learned by observing those coming into the prayer room.
I walked around the prayer room, trying to look as natural as possible while keeping the members of my own cohort within sight. There were adults present too, though not many. Luckily, I was able to spot the person I was looking for. I sat nearby, put my hands together, and pretended to pray. I spent the time absentmindedly observing the curious flow of essence beneath my feet. Eventually, the adult next to me put down his hands.
“What do you want?” Konji asked quietly.
“You’re the one who brought the dragonborn child here, aren’t you?”
“You—” He swung his gaze to me. I kept my hands together in faux prayer.
This was something of a gamble. He was the one responsible for punishing the dragon girl. At first, I’d thought it just a method to quash her rebellious spirit. But this place wasn’t normal.
Konji’s actions made it clear that he was indifferent to us dying. And yet, the dragon girl was still alive. I’d first thought that the adults kept her here because of her immense power, but then Sister revealed that she would rather be rid of the girl. The adults held ultimate power here. Sister was perfectly capable of killing her if she really wanted to. Therefore, there had to be an adult who insisted that she stay alive. And a hunch told me it was Konji. If the amount of effort exerted on any one person was equivalent to their interest in them, that meant he had more interest in the dragon girl than anyone else.
No one else here had the same dragon-like features as her. At first, I thought it was because dragonborns were a special race. Konji might have kidnapped her as a newborn, or perhaps she was his own daughter. Either way, his seemingly levelheaded obsession with her spoke of a connection of some sort.
“Are you the one who tamed her?” Konji asked.
“We just had a little quarrel.”
He must have wondered why she suddenly decided to take part in training. It wasn’t my intention to force her to change at the time; I was just taking out my irritation on her.
It was time to get down to business. “I need your help.”
“I am not here to be your friend.”
“Good. Then you don’t need me either, supposing you really mean that.” I was partly being sarcastic, but he probably knew what I was getting at.
Though he might have been making a point about separating duties from personal feelings, the truth was that our lives were threatened by the adults who failed to do that. It was one thing for this system of education to destroy us, but it was another for us to be destroyed by something outside that system. It was perhaps deemed unacceptable. Education was the entire point of the home, after all.
“What are you?” he pressed.
“You should know better than I do.”
The eyes that looked down on me were colored with wariness. “Are you trying to read my mind? Flower fae can’t read anything deeper than surface thoughts.”
Flower fae? Could it be that I wasn’t pure snakeborn?
Though Konji noticed my doubtful expression, he didn’t elaborate. For some time, there was silence between us. Someone left the prayer room, then someone else. Konji only spoke again when it was getting close to lights out.
“I have my professional duties to fulfill. I will do no more and no less than that.”
I was waiting for him to say that.
“I can draw out more of her power,” I said, making an extra push to entice him.
“You?”
I hadn’t noticed that he had put his hand on my shoulder. It would’ve looked innocent enough to any onlookers, but I could see the knife in his grip.
“Your words hold no substance. You are too young to be trying to sound like your instructors.” Konji slipped the knife back into his sleeve like a magician.
Maybe it was too soon for this. It now seemed a bad idea to try to contradict him when I didn’t have any track record to back me up. That said, he didn’t look angry. He must have intended for this to be a gentle rebuke.
“It is time for lights out. I make a habit of coming here once every five days.” He went past me, heading to the walkway.
“No substance, huh?”
Konji was right in that I had failed to figure him out. But he wasn’t about to completely figure me out either.
CHAPTER 3: FRIEND OR FOE