Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 37

Professor Hill

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Scorched’s office smelled of scorched parchment and discipline, an old dragon’s den of rules and intimidation. I’d been summoned like some errand boy, dragged away from work that actually mattered, to sort out a schoolyard scuffle. Juvenile. Beneath me. But then Scorched leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, and said the name. Allison Rivers. Of course it was her. That girl. Always in the eye of the storm, like trouble magnetised itself to her. And yet… something about her sat wrong in my mind. Wrong enough that I couldn’t look

away.

“They’ve accused one another,” Scorched said flatly. His reptilian eyes narrowed on the two boys standing before us, Evander, the golden dragon heir, rigid as carved stone, and Cage, the arrogant little warlock, radiating smug defiance. “Search their minds, Hill. We’ll have the

truth.”

I inclined my head, masking the curl of distaste in my gut. A bloodhound. That’s all I am to him. A blade pulled out when the claws won’t do. Still. If it involved Rivers… I was curious. I started with Evander Drayke. His gaze met mine head-on, steady, but his dragon thrashed just beneath the surface. All I had to do was slip a single thread of thought into the cracks, and his mind parted for me. The images slammed into me hard and uninvited. Blood. Mud. Rivers’ chest laid bare, wounds raked deep, her limp body cradled in talons that felt far too real to ignore. And overlaying it all, like a brand burned into his dragon’s skull, one word. Mate.

My brows furrowed. That was… wrong. Bonds did not declare themselves until the Moonlight Festival. Yet his beast believed it absolutely. And he did too. I sifted further, looking for what I came for. A boy’s voice echoed, thin, nervous, telling Evander that Cage pushed her. A memory more hearsay than evidence. Nothing of his own eyes watching the act. No proof. Only fury. I pulled back, unsettled. My pulse was faster than it should have been. The dragon had tangled itself around her. Around Rivers.

“Nothing conclusive,” I said carefully, though my mind was anything but.

Scorched’s nostrils flared, smoke curling. “Then check the warlock.”

Cage sneered at me as though daring me to try. His mind was a maze of sharp edges, arrogance built like a fortress. But arrogance is just a wall with cracks. And I have never had trouble breaking walls. I pressed in. And there, like rot beneath the floorboards, was truth. The beam. Rivers balancing, slow and careful. His boot connecting, the satisfaction curling dark in his gut as she plunged into the water. No hesitation, no guilt, just smug amusement. And layered beneath it all… fear. Not of her, not yet. But of something in his dreams, something wearing her face and not. I caught the echo of crimson eyes and twisted antlers, and for a split second, Cage’s pulse wasn’t the only one that spiked. I withdrew, cold settling behind my ribs.

Scorched’s voice snapped across the room. “Well?”

I let my gaze linger on Cage a heartbeat too long. He shifted under it. Good. Then I straightened, tone flat and deliberate. “Evander Drayke believes the girl was pushed. He did not see it himself. Cage, however…” My lips curved, humourless. “Cage doesn’t need to believe. He knows what he did.”

Scorched’s jaw clicked as his teeth ground together, smoke hissing from the corners of his mouth. “You pushed her,” he growled, each word rumbling like an earthquake underfoot.

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The Truth.

Cage’s smirk twitched, not gone but brittle. “I was-”

“Silence.” Scorched’s voice cracked like thunder, the desk rattling. Even arrogant warlocks know when to shut their mouths.

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The principal rose, scales flickering down his arms as his claws curled against the wood. “You endangered a student’s life. Not in combat. Not in a sanctioned challenge. For your own amusement.” His voice dipped, low and lethal. “That is not mischief. That is cowardice.”

Cage’s jaw clenched, the flicker of defiance still there, but weaker now.

Scorched leaned forward, eyes burning molten gold. “So here is your punishment, boy. Since you find her so pathetic, so far beneath you, you will teach her. You will ensure she does not fall further behind. You will be her tutor in combat, in spellwork, in whatever the

instructors demand.”

Cage’s head snapped up, outrage twisting across his face. “You can’t-”

“I can.” Scorched’s voice shook the walls. Smoke poured from his nostrils. “And if you harm a single hair on her head, I will have you expelled and branded. No school. No council work. No future. You’ll be nothing but a gutter warlock.”

Silence swallowed the room. Cage’s mouth opened, then shut again. No grin now. Only the sour twist of a boy choking down a command he couldn’t wriggle free from. Evander’s shoulders eased beside me, though his dragon still seethed behind his eyes. The thought of Cage forced into gentleness was a punishment sweeter than any chains. Scorched sat back, claws tapping once against the desk. “Do I make

myself clear?”

“Yes,” Cage muttered, though it scraped out like broken glass.

“Good,” Scorched said, dismissing them with a slash of his hand. “Now get out before I change my mind and decide you’re both better off

locked in chains.”

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