“You needed something?” Kestra asks, straightening up to her full height. She’s only a few inches shorter than Bodhi, but he knows for a fact that wouldn’t stop her from knocking him flat on his ass. And for some reason, he isn’t sure he’d mind. Not that he’ll give her a reason to, of course. He's supposed to be the most reasonable of his section, after all.
“Yes. Well, technically, the Assembly needs something from you. They asked me to bring you so you and the Professors can sort out teaching all the cadets here.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “They're asking me to teach? I'm still only a cadet. And what would I teach anyway?”
“Dragonkind. You're Kaori's daughter--if there's anyone they expect to know enough about dragons to help the first years keep their seats and maneuver in flight, it's you.”
Kestra frowns, a sight that Bodhi couldn't have anticipated disliking so much. He watches her raise her hand to her face and pinch the bridge of her nose. Her sigh is sharp. “This is why Dad and I kept that little bit of information a secret.”
Bodhi grimaces. He’d technically volunteered her even though his main goal was just to get the Assembly off of Xaden’s back. He hadn't thought about the pressure that might put on her, and he suddenly felt guilt knotting his stomach.
“They think you're capable, at least,” he offers, his voice a tad softer.
“They want me to be his replacement,” she says, her voice slightly clipped. “I mean, I get why on some level. I practically learned to read off of his Field Guide to Dragonkind, but I'm not him. I can't be him. Not without at least another ten years of experience and study.” Her hand lowered from her face
Bodhi shrugs. The smile he offers Kestra is hesitant, but genuine. As if he could try and nudge her forward with a mere expression alone. “Maybe they don't need you to be him, Bishop. Maybe they just need you to be you.”
The tightness of stress and agitation loosens from Kestra's expression like a curtain billowing from an open window. His words seem to make her pause, something like appreciation dancing in those forest green eyes of hers. “You think?” she asks, sounding surprisingly unsure of herself.
