Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(11)

Did he really expect her to believe that? “Someone told me a legend about keys like this.” She opened her hand and let the stones sparkle in the light. “They claimed the key would unlock treasure chests containing secrets the Directorate wanted to hide.”

“An amusing fairy tale, and that’s all it is, I assure you. Jewelers made these keys to promote that sort of story. They considered it an act of rebellion because they knew such stories would annoy the Directorate.”

That made sense, sort of. “So there are other keys out there with different-colored stones?” She sighed. “No magical treasure chest waiting in my future?”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” He snatched the key from her palm and slid it in his jacket pocket. “I’ll be in touch, once the protection charm on the key is restored.”

Onyx stood and headed for the stairs. Black material billowed out behind him. Holy crap, was he wearing a cape? She stifled a laugh. Who wore a cape rather than a coat? It was absurd, and it reminded her of Nola and all her flowing dresses. He and Nola would make a fabulous fake couple. And that would solve one of her problems.

Bryn gathered her things and set out for Basic Movement. It was the dragon equivalent of gym class, but far cooler. Next to Elemental Science, it was her favorite class.

“What do you want to do today?” Clint asked as he climbed onto a treadmill.

“I want to joust.” Ivy punched the buttons for a fast warm-up walk.

Bryn warmed up on her own treadmill while she checked out the raised platforms where students did battle with what appeared to be giant cotton swabs. At the moment, a blond and a dark-haired boy faced off. When the dark-haired guy knocked his opponent off the platform, she gave a silent cheer. Sometimes, the whole color-coding system made it easy to know who to root for. Not that she hated Blues, but Reds, Greens, Blacks, and Oranges had been far nicer to her during her time on campus. She couldn’t help but think that Blues were behind the carrot cake poisoning, and she’d bet money it was Jaxon’s father who’d arranged it. Not that she had any proof.

At the far end of the room, Octavius and his mate, Vivian, the only two Orange dragons on campus, attacked and parried with wooden swords. It looked like fun.

“I want to learn how to use a sword.”

Clint chuckled. “No one fights with swords anymore.”

Bryn pointed across the gym. “The Orange dragons know how to use them.”

“Ask Octavius to teach you,” Ivy said.

“I might.”

When she reached the ring, Octavius and Vivian had ditched the swords and moved on to the hollow stick drums unique to their Clan. As thick as Bryn’s forearm, the drums were two feet long and decorated with black swirling lines.

The Orange dragons performed a choreographed dance, slamming the wooden instruments together in a manner that made it look like they were still fighting with swords. The resulting noise was a resonant sound that reminded her of bongos.

Vivian called to Bryn. “Would you like to learn? I need a female to perform the Chosen Dance.”

That could be fun. Bryn climbed into the ring. “What’s the Chosen Dance?”

“The women of my Clan have performed this dance for hundreds of years. Let me show you.” She passed Bryn a drum. The hollow wooden stick was heavier than Bryn expected.

“First, do this step.” Vivian stepped wide with her right foot, and then stomped her left foot. She brought her right foot in close and then performed the move leading with her left foot.

“It’s like a hula dance,” Bryn said.

Octavius laughed. “Where do you think our bronze skin and brown hair comes from?”

Huh. She’d never noticed that the two Orange dragons resembled Hawaiians.

“Try your feet,” Vivian suggested.

The foot pattern was easy enough. Swaying her hips side to side, not so much. Then again, it wasn’t like she was trying to impress anyone.

“Now, hold your drum out and I will hit it,” Vivian instructed.

Bryn held the drum steady and concentrated on her feet. Vivian swung her drum at Bryn’s. The force behind the blows caused the sound to resonate around them.

A melody rose out of the drumbeats. Bryn hummed along as Vivian swung her drum harder and harder. A bead of sweat ran down her back as she held her drum firm in order to withstand Vivian’s blows. The tempo of the song increased.

“We will stop after ten more blows. When we finish, look to see who is watching you. They are the males most likely to choose you as a mate.”

How scientific was this process? She surveyed the area around the ring. Zavien talked with Mrs. Anderson by the joust. What was he doing here? Didn’t matter. If he didn’t look her way, she’d hit him over the head with the drum.

“Get ready,” Vivian said.

Vivian smacked her drum against Bryn’s one more time, and then Bryn checked the area for interested parties. Jaxon glared from across the room. Zavien walked toward her with a smile on his face. Keegan waved from the weight lifting area.

“You have broad appeal,” Vivian said with a laugh.

“How do you know they aren’t looking at you?” Octavius asked.

The bronze-skinned beauty reached up and traced her fingertips across his lips. “It doesn’t matter if they’re looking at me. I only see you.”