Текст книги "On wings of blood"

Автор книги: Briar Boleyn

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 36 страниц)

BOOK 2

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CHAPTER 14 – BLAKE

A few days earlier...

I slammed the double doors open, hearing them crash against the walls with a satisfying bang.

“What did you just do?” I roared as I stalked towards the long table where my uncle and brother were already seated.

My brother rose to his feet, nervously glancing across the table at my uncle.

“Back the fuck off, Blake,” Marcus said. “There’s no need to act like a barbarian.”

“A barbarian?” I seethed. “A barbarian? Yet you had no qualms about betrothing me to one today, Uncle. We know nothing about this girl or where she really comes from. For all we know, one of the other houses planted her there themselves.”

I glared down at the ancient vampire who sat staring up at me calmly from eyes as red as blood.

Viktor Drakharrow led our house. Even before that, he had been a force to be reckoned with as my father’s strongest and most brutal general.

“There is no way one of the other houses would have sat on a secret like that for so long. Or that they would have parted with that girl so easily. You always knew you’d be assigned a second consort,” Viktor replied quietly. “You have a little...” He gestured to his face.

I wiped at my face, my cheeks flushing. There at the corner of my lips. A few spots of blood. I brushed them away.

“Feed in a frenzy, did we, Brother?” Marcus laughed. “How unlike you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Marcus,” I spat. “I’d been out on campaign for days. I was hungry.”

“Of course you were,” Viktor said soothingly. “And you deserved to feed. Just as we all do.”

I’d grabbed a House Drakharrow thrall on my way into the Black Keep. There was a group of them always around, always available. Viktor made sure of that. I didn’t like to use them, but this time I’d been desperate.

Of course, with Marcus around, they didn’t last long. This one had been pretty, too. I doubted I’d see that poor woman again.

I settled into a seat further down the table and crossed my arms over my chest. I knew I was being petulant. I couldn’t help it. This wasn’t how I’d expected my day to go.

When I’d found the woman–Medra Pendragon–I’d thought she’d be a fine prize for my house, certainly. But my future bride? No. I hadn’t anticipated Viktor’s play. But I knew I should have.

“You both know there is nothing I wouldn’t do to maintain House Drakharrow’s ascendancy,” Viktor said, leaning forward. “I know you may believe I acted rashly today, Blake. Perhaps you even fear I do not have your best interests at heart. Nothing could be further from the truth.” He paused. “What you brought back–what you found–was the greatest gift you could have given to your house. Perhaps the most significant discovery made in the last century.”

I caught Marcus scowling. The bastard was jealous. Good.

I took a deep breath, trying to quiet my anger. “You really think she’s important?”

Viktor exchanged a glance with my brother. “I know we don’t want her getting into the hands of our enemies, that’s for certain. You heard what they said.”

I frowned. “Lady Avari was itching to get near the girl.”

Viktor nodded. “And Lord Mortis. You heard him. Now the question is, do you think either spoke the truth?”

I glanced at my brother then back at Viktor. “You think they wanted us to destroy her?”

“Lady Avari? Yes. Absolutely. She believed I would. But first she wanted to plant the idea of the girl being an omen in the minds of the others.”

“So that when you killed her, they’d question the wisdom of your decision,” I guessed.

Viktor nodded.

“And Lord Mortis?”

“Perhaps he thought I would suggest we wed the rider girl to one of his younger sons as an experiment.” My uncle smiled. “I doubt he was expecting me to do what I did.”

“No,” I said, glaring at him. “I doubt he expected you to use me as your pawn. But then, that’s what we all are to you, aren’t we, Viktor?”

Viktor frowned. “We all work for the good of our house.”

“If you don’t want the girl, I could take her off your hands, Brother,” Marcus said with a leer. “That hair. It’s quite unusual. I wouldn’t mind wrapping my hands in it. Do you think she looks like blightborn women in other ways? Or is everything about her different? Right down to her...”

“She’s mine,” I snarled. “You’ll keep your fucking hands off her.”

“Oh, ho. The little lion cub doesn’t want to share.” Marcus laughed and put his hands up.

“Stop it, you two,” my uncle said absent-mindedly, rubbing his temple.

“You could have wed her to Marcus. Why didn’t you?” I demanded. Though if Pendragon thought I was bad, she’d have been in for a real shock with Marcus.

“I wouldn’t have minded getting some of that rider pussy,” Marcus agreed. “I could have made her beg for some highblood cock. And we wouldn’t have had to wait so long to seal the bond either. I’d have made sure of that.”

“Enough.” My uncle slammed his hands down on the table. “Blake, you know I have other plans for Marcus. Once he has learned, that is, to show some fucking restraint.” He practically screamed the last words.

My brother and I both flinched.

Marcus had already had two consorts.

But he’d killed one. They’d been sisters. Twins. Daughters from a minor house. Marcus had become obsessed with them and taken both to mate without my uncle’s permission. He’d been... severely chastised. As had both women.

The surviving sister was back at Drakharrow Manor now, our family’s main estate.

She hated my brother, of course, so their connection was weak. She brought him neither power nor honor. I doubted she’d defend him in a fight. She’d been a mistake.

Just like Medra Pendragon was for me.

I knew Viktor hoped to mate Marcus with either Catherine Mortis or, failing that, Lunaya Orphos.

But as Marcus had developed a bad reputation for recklessness and bloodshed, few wanted to risk their daughters. Even in exchange for a potentially powerful alliance with House Drakharrow.

“Lord Mortis will never allow Catherine to become Marcus’s consort,” I pointed out. “She’s too valuable for that.”

“Chances are she’ll take her father’s place as the head of House Mortis,” Viktor agreed. “But nothing is set in stone. Still, Lunaya Orphos would be a fine second choice.”

“The girl’s not even right in the head,” Marcus complained. “I don’t want an idiot for a wife.”

“I’d have thought that would make her perfect for you,” I quipped.

Marcus snarled.

In truth, I’d have hated to see Lunaya Orphos forced to marry my brother. She’d always seemed like a sweet and quiet girl. The exact sort that Marcus would walk all over.

“Let’s focus on the Pendragon girl,” my uncle said. “You’ll keep her on a short leash, Blake. The binding ritual in the Black Keep was but the first step. Still, the girl doesn’t need to know that.”

“We could have learned more about her and more quickly by sampling her ourselves,” Marcus complained. “Why not bring her here now?”

“You really are an ignorant fuckwit, aren’t you, Marcus?” I said, rolling my eyes.

“You’re my heir, Marcus, but your brother is right,” Viktor said, looking as if he were on the verge of losing his temper again. “Do you know so little about riders and their blood?”

Marcus gave a sullen shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Only one highblood can taste her and truly benefit from it,” I said, leaning forward. “And it won’t be you, Marcus.”

“Blake is right. We don’t want to dilute her power. The potential it has is too great to waste. If we’re right that is. If she’s really a rider.” My uncle gazed out the nearby window. “If she is... Then she may give me the opportunity I’ve been looking for.”

I looked at my uncle covertly. There were no dragons. And yet he refused to stop acting as if this girl’s appearance actually meant something.

“Her blood will be useful at least,” I conceded. “I don’t see how she’s important beyond that.”

But I also knew my uncle had tricks up his sleeve that he would never tell us about.

“Why give Blake such powerful blood?” Marcus demanded. “Why not me, uncle?”

“Because it’s a fucking double-edged sword, you big imbecile,” I snapped.

My uncle looked at me. “You’ve paid more attention to your history lessons than Marcus has, I see.”

I stood up. “I have. And I know just what you’ve done. Don’t think I don’t.” Suddenly my fury welled up. “This would never have been allowed to happen if my father were alive.”

Viktor rose from his seat. “You dare to say that to my face. When all I have ever done is try to hold this family together?”

“What you’ve done is tried to consolidate power. Hold this family together?” I gave a sharp barking laugh. I was taking a risk, speaking to him like this, and I knew it. Still, I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “I’m not so sure about that. How is my dear mother doing, anyhow, Uncle? Have you had any word from her since she retreated to the Sanctum? Because I have not.”

“When she chooses to speak to us, she will do so. I have no control over that, Blake,” my uncle replied coldly.

The Bloodmaiden’s Sanctum. Only a few women were ever granted access to the most sacred temple in Sangratha.

When my father had died, my mother had announced her intentions to retreat from the world for a time.

We hadn’t seen her since.

She’d been one of the most powerful women in Sangratha. Now she was simply...gone.

“Speaking of family loyalty, Blake,” my uncle said. “You need to get your pup on a leash.”

“He means Aenia,” Marcus said, sneering. “Get the little bitch in check or we’ll have to put her down.”

I felt myself exploding.

I couldn’t even remember moving but suddenly I was across the room with my hands around my brother’s throat.

“Don’t you ever dare threaten our sister again, Marcus. Don’t you dare.”

“Let him go, Blake,” my uncle commanded. “Drop him. Now.”

I dropped him just as I’d been instructed to. Marcus fell to the floor gasping.

“You bastard,” he choked out. “Fucking bastard.”

“If you harm a hair on Aenia’s head, there will be hell to pay when Mother returns,” I warned Marcus.

“Enough, Blake,” my uncle said. “You took responsibility for the girl.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” I said sourly.

“Good. Then deal with her. Before she becomes an embarrassment to our family. Or worse, a menace.”

I nodded tightly, and began to turn away.

“And as for Theo...” My uncle continued.

I stopped. “What about Theo?”

Theo Drakharrow was my aunt’s son and my closest friend.

“I’ve heard some disturbing news about your cousin,” Viktor said.

For a moment, my heart sank. Was Theo considering vying with me for the house leadership? I imagined having to kill my cousin. The thought filled me with revulsion and horror.

“I’ve heard Theo has been embarrassing House Drakharrow again. Engaging in...disturbing liaisons.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I exclaimed. “Marcus literally kills his own consort, but you’re worried about Theo embarrassing you because he likes to sometimes fuck other men? The other houses don’t have a stick up their ass about it so why do you?”

“The other houses might condone such unnatural liaisons. We are not the other houses,” Viktor said coldly.

“No,” I spat. “We’re certainly not.”

House Orphos mandated that their house leader take a male and a female consort. Such triads were believed to make their leader stronger. House Mortis left such decisions to the individual. I knew Catherine Mortis preferred women, but suspected she’d be forced to take at least one male consort–at the very least, for breeding purposes. Still, that didn’t mean anyone batted an eye to her penchant for running wild with women.

“Keep your cousin in line. Next thing you know he’ll be pursuing his trysts with mortals,” Viktor said coldly.

I took a deep breath, trying not to point out the miniscule distinction between the average blightborn who Viktor so evidently disdained and the dragon rider blightborn he’d so freely betrothed me to.

“Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting,” Marcus agreed, but I could see him trying to hide a nasty grin. He was baiting me, hoping I’d snap again and draw Viktor’s ire. “Absolutely no shame. No taste whatsoever.”

“House Drakharrow rises above all other houses,” Viktor lectured. “Do not forget this. We surpass them because we are more restrained. Because we are superior.”

“You’d think we’d only mate with members of House Drakharrow then,” I said coldly. “Like in the good old days.”

“When sister married brother? Do not think I have not given it consideration,” my uncle said, eying me with a frosty gaze. “Perhaps in the future, we will go back to those old ways, just as you suggest.”

“If we’re through here, I’d like to get back to Bloodwing,” I said. “That is, if you have no further demands of me.”

“Marcus can deal with Theo if you don’t, Blake,” Viktor said, not breaking his gaze. “But I don’t think you’d like his methods.”

Marcus cracked his knuckles. “A warning might be all our cousin needs. Let me do it my way.”

“No,” I said, clenching my jaw. “I’ll deal with it. I’ll take care of them both. Aenia and Theo. Leave them to me.”

Viktor nodded. “Good. You’re a good nephew, Blake. You both are. Together, this family will be the leaders this realm requires. Stay loyal by my side. Watch and learn.”

I nodded. “Always, uncle.”

I left the room, my heart beating fast.

Viktor was the most dangerous man I’d ever met, while Marcus was simply a menace.

Medra Pendragon had no idea what a close call she’d had. If she thought I was a monster, wait until she got to know my brother.

No, better that she never had the opportunity.

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CHAPTER 15 – MEDRA

Two Weeks Later

Bloodwing Academy was a beautiful enigma.

The more I wandered through its maze-like halls, the more I felt as if I were falling in love with the old castle’s strange allure. Many of my fellow students were brutal, but there was somehow serenity here, too.

Passing through a corridor, I could glance out a tall, arched window and be greeted by the sight of the sea, wild and silver under an autumn sky.

On my way to class, I might pass through a courtyard filled with towering trees, like none I'd ever seen before in Aercanum, their branches twisted and ancient, creating canopies of gold and red against the sky. I’d already come to love walking beneath those trees, smelling the crisp air that carried the scent of damp earth, wood smoke, and fallen leaves, each step crunching pleasantly under my boots.

The castle’s nooks and crannies seemed endless. But it was this very quality I was coming to adore. Though the academy’s size was intimidating and I’d run across more than one fellow First Year looking lost and wild-eyed, I was starting to take an odd comfort in its labyrinthine nature. It was as if the building itself was inviting me to unravel its mysteries.

Two weeks had passed since my arrival in Sangratha. Two weeks since I’d become a student at Bloodwing.

I’d made some notes for my essay on dragons, but hadn’t really started writing yet. Still, the more I learned about the ancient beasts, the more grateful I was that there were none left alive.

Dragons had a reputation for brutality. Left unchecked, they would kill and feed as voraciously as a highblood, if not more so. Their appetites were vast. Keeping dragons had been an expense only the most elite houses could maintain.

The relationship between dragons and their riders seemed precarious to me. The dragons were possessive and passionate about their riders. But they could also turn on them in an instant. The death of a rider was as likely to happen at the hands of their own dragon than another. Dragons were prickly creatures, easily offended, selfish and demanding.

The relationship between riders, dragons, and highbloods was similarly fraught. Riders tethered the dragons to the vampires. They were the only thing that had kept the dragons in check. When a rider fell, their dragon’s loyalty to a highblood house could not be guaranteed until the dragon had agreed to bond with a new rider of the same house.

There were many stories of highblood houses having to fight and kill their own dragons that had gone berserk.

And still other stories of highblood houses that had fallen entirely because they’d been unable to overcome their own dragon’s might. Those were my favorite.

As for my sessions with Professor Rodriguez in thrallguard, it turned out that learning how to block thrallweave was as exhausting as a combat class. If not more so.

“You’ve been granted the right to train in something most vampires themselves never master,” Professor Rodriguez had explained at our first session. “Most highbloods assume the ability to block is innate. Some are capable of it, some are not.”

His dark hair fell across his brow as he leaned forward, his eyes sharp and focused. “The art of thrallguard has ancient roots. Some historians claim the skill originated with mortals in the first place and not vampires at all. That’s the most believable explanation to me.”

I shifted in my chair, feeling anticipation and trepidation. “What do you mean?”

“Mortals have always had the most to fear from vampires, no?”

“I’d say so,” I muttered.

He smiled slightly.  “We’re weaker in most ways. But even so, every mortal has the potential for magic, no matter how miniscule. At some point, a mortal developed their defenses and was able to block thrallweave.”

“I expect the vampires didn’t like that,” I speculated.

“No,” he agreed. “The mortal who first discovered how to block thrallweave may have been severely punished. But not before they passed on the skill to someone else.”

“And eventually the vampires took credit for it entirely?” I suggested.

He nodded.

I suspected this was heresy. Something Rodriguez wouldn’t dare to say to a highblood’s face. But here he was, daring to say it to me.

“Eventually, vampires made the skill their own. Dragon riders were the only mortals permitted to learn it.”

“Why?” I demanded, leaning forward. "Why them?”

“I should think it would be obvious. Because they held the key to the realm’s most valuable weapon. A weapon that the highbloods themselves were never able to wield, to their perpetual frustration and fury. Dragons. A vampire could never control a dragon.”

“But if a vampire could control a rider, they essentially had a way in,” I guessed.

“Exactly. Now, you might think this would be an excellent thing. A way for a house to control a dragon via their rider. But the houses have long been in bloody competition with one another. So having a rider open to the coercion of other houses was a weakness. Imagine a rider soaring above on an incoming attack, only to be turned away because someone down below was powerful enough to enthrall them. So, long ago, it was agreed that those chosen to ride would be trained to shield their minds, in order to protect their mounts and their Houses.” Rodriguez passed, watching me. “The mind is a delicate thing. Even vampires with all their power and skill can be vulnerable to thrallweave.”

“How vulnerable?” I demanded. “Can it kill them?”

“It can kill a mortal, certainly. It’s rare for a highblood to be able to kill another highblood with thrallweave alone. But there are legends where it happens. Whether there’s any truth to those stories...” He shrugged. “We're not here to practice thrallweave. We're here to protect your will. Thrallguard is a grueling skill to hone. There will be moments when you want to quit, when it feels like your mind is splintering from the strain. But you will endure.”

“I will,” I agreed, gritting my teeth.

Rodriguez looked amused. “You’re eager to learn. That’s understandable. I was as well.”

I suddenly thought of something. “Did you attend Bloodwing, too? When you were young? Who taught you how to use thrallguard?”

He smiled pleasantly. “We aren’t talking about me today. This is about you, Miss Pendragon.”

Still, I wondered if he had, wondered if Rodriguez had been bullied by highbloods just like what was happening to me. That would explain why he’d worked to hone his ability in thrallguard.

“Unlike in a combat class, thrallguard is not about physical strength,” Rodriguez went on. “It’s about mental resilience which is, arguably, even more important. You need to be warned–the process can be...invasive.”

I nodded, feeling a tremor of unease.

“I’m going to test your defenses today. The process isn’t particularly gentle. But I’ll try not to push you too far.” He rose and stood in front of me. “We’ll start now.”

Before I could even formulate a reply, I felt it–a sharp, sudden pressure against my mind, like someone forcing open a door I hadn’t realized I’d left unlocked.

Panic washed over me. Regan. It was happening again.

My thoughts scattered as I instinctively tried to pull away. I gripped the armrests of my chair and leaned as far back as I could get, as if hoping that would be enough to stop the sensation.

But Rodriguez didn’t stop. He pushed again and a wave of focused energy brushed up against my memories from earlier that same day–eating breakfast in the refectory, walking down the hallway towards class.

My heart raced as I suddenly realized what he might find if he looked a little longer. I scrambled, desperately trying to erect barriers, but his presence slipped through the cracks like smoke.

The pressure grew more invasive, more threatening, and I felt panic rise within me.

He was going through my memories. So far he had only sifted through recent ones. I felt him pushing through my days at Bloodwing, felt him peering into my memory of standing atop the black stone dragon, felt him feeling my fear, my terror.

“You’re letting me in too easily,” Rodriguez said. His voice sounded as if it was coming from far away. “You have to push back. Your mind is your own. Guard it with your life.”

“I thought I was pushing back,” I said through clenched teeth.

He sighed and I felt the mental pressure ease, disappearing as suddenly as it had begun. “Blocking someone from entering your mind isn't like swinging a sword or using brute force. It's about control. Subtle, precise control over your own thoughts. Think of it as the gradual building of a fortress. But this fortress can’t be made of rigid stone. It has to be adaptable, flexible. Eventually, it can become impenetrable.”

That was what I wanted. To become a fortress.

I frowned, curling  my fingers in my lap. “But how? How do I even start?”

Rodriguez’s expression softened slightly as if he sensed my fear. “It’s going to take time. We’ll start with a tactic I first learned. It’s called mental partitioning. You’ll learn how to separate your mind into different layers, creating barriers between your surface thoughts–between the ones you’re okay with others seeing....”

I winced. There wasn’t really anything in my head I wanted a stranger to see.

He saw my expression and smiled slightly. “I know. But just think how much worse it could be if I were someone else.” He let the suggestion hang there.

I nodded firmly. “Right. I understand. I don’t want you to go easy on me.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said with a small smile. “Anyhow, mental partitioning. Creating a barrier between your thoughts. The ones you don’t mind revealing and the ones you need to keep hidden.” He shrugged. “We all have those, right? Eventually I might let you see what I had for breakfast, too, Miss Pendragon.”

He grinned and I smiled weakly.

I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but I hadn’t anticipated it being this difficult. This... invasive. I could still feel the echo of Rodriguez’s presence in my mind, a reminder of how easily he'd been able to slip past my weak defenses.

My non-existent defenses.

My stomach churned. What if this wasn’t training? What if this was real? If it was someone trying to harm me or, worse, trying to force me to harm myself or someone else again? My mind flashed back to Regan, to how helpless and violated I’d felt.

A tremor of resentment flared through me. I knew Professor Rodriguez was doing this for my own good, but the potential he had to tear through my mind, to search for every vulnerable thought, left me feeling raw and exposed. I hated it. I hated how easily my weaknesses could be discovered, no matter how I tried to hide them.

Rodriguez had been waiting. When I nodded that I was ready to continue, he gestured for me to close my eyes.

“Imagine your mind as a space. An open field, let’s say. Now start constructing layers. These will be the partitions. The first layer should hold nothing of importance. Your recent thoughts, trivial memories. These are the decoys. Eventually, I’ll only sense what lays behind them if you want me to.”

I closed my eyes, trying to picture my mind the way he described it. It felt strange, unnatural. But as I focused, I began to form a mental wall. It was thin, like a piece of paper, hardly a wall at all. But it was a start.

“Good,” Rodriguez said. He was trying to be encouraging. “Now, I'm going to attempt to push past that first layer. When you feel me approaching, I want you to reinforce it. Don't just let me through.”

I tensed up. There it was again. Like a soft knock against the edge of my mind. His presence was there, probing, but not forceful. Not yet. It was a gentle push, like someone testing the strength of a door.

I flinched, instinctively wanting to pull away, but instead I focused on my wall, adding another piece of parchment, then another. I imagined it thickening, reinforcing it with iron bars, holding it firm.

“That's it,” Rodriguez said. “Keep building your wall. Feel the pressure. Don't let it crack.”

The pressure increased slightly, but the wall held. My heart was pounding but I also felt a small bloom of pride.

Rodriguez spoke again. “Good. We’ll stop there for today.” He paused. “I could push your wall down if I tried, but I’m not going to do that.”

My sense of pride plummeted. “Okay. Thank you...I guess?”

He nodded. “I’m not going to take it easy on you. But this is just the beginning. It takes time and practice. You’ll need to learn to disguise the partitions. After all, if someone senses a wall, they’ll know there’s something behind it you don’t want them to see.”

“So what do I do?” I asked, opening my eyes, and feeling frustrated once more.

“You need to appear ordinary. Your thoughts should seem like an open book–but only the pages you want someone to read. Everything else should be hidden, masked by false thoughts.” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “It’s about constructing a new reality. A new you. A believable one. You’ll need to practice disguising your true intentions. Sometimes, it’s not just about stopping someone from entering your mind but about making them think there’s nothing worth searching for in the first place.”

This was another level of thrallweave’s power I hadn't even considered before. Regan hadn’t been interested in my memories. She’d just wanted to control me. But if she’d gone searching? There was no way I’d have been able to stop her.

Right now, I was an open book.

Just like all of the other blightborn students.

But I doubted any of them had come here from another world.

“I know what you're thinking,” Rodriguez said, watching me. “We'll work on the compulsion aspect of thrallweave, too. That’s what Miss Pansera used with such blunt force the other day. But let’s start slow. Thrallguard training can be, well...intense.”

My stomach tightened. This was more complex than I could have imagined. Yet deception was my forte, wasn’t it? After all, I was here. They didn’t know what I truly was, not who I truly was, not really.

“What do I do next time?”

“You'll start by practicing simple distractions. Next time we meet, I’ll push harder, and you’ll need to throw some false memories and thoughts in my path. Anything to divert attention. It’s like leading someone down the wrong corridor in a maze.” He paused. “But for now, let’s just work on building that first layer. Keep it firm, focus on controlling what I see.”

I nodded and stood up. I felt weak and shaky. And Rodriguez hadn’t really even let loose on me. Not like he could have.

“This is going to take time,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “But you have potential. I wouldn’t have offered to teach you if I thought you didn’t. Once you truly master this, no one will be able to touch your mind again. Unless you want them to.”

I couldn’t imagine ever wanting that. I nodded my thanks. But as I left the room, my mind was racing and the feeling of vulnerability lingered.

The more we practiced, the more of a chance Professor Rodriguez would have of seeing my most painful, private memories.

And if he got too close, if anyone did, I wasn’t sure what would happen.

The following weeks were grueling. Professor Rodriguez didn’t ease up. Each session, his attacks grew a little stronger and my wall fell over and over.

The only good thing was that he seemed to have forgotten about the essay I was supposed to be writing. Maybe he’d taken pity on me. Though I was sure it was temporary.

Some nights, after a particularly intense session, I’d lie awake, thinking about how easily Rodriguez could get into my mind. Or any other highblood, for that matter.

It was like my grandfather all over again. Reaching for me, grasping, taking from me what didn’t belong to him. My memories. My life.

Eventually a night came where I was exhausted. But there was only so long I could stay inside.

Brooding and melancholic, I paced the First Year common room, trailing my finger along the window ledges.

Back in Camelot, I’d have gone for a ride with Odessa. I’d have galloped my horse hard, felt the wind in my hair. But here, I had no horse. Nowhere to go. So far as I knew, even the exits to Bloodwing were guarded. We weren’t permitted to visit the city.

A spark of light down below the castle caught my eye. A fire, down on the beach.

Theo’s party.

I glanced across the room at where Florence sat scribbling on parchment. Books lay open in a semi-circle all around her and she seemed to be reading from two or three simultaneously. Naveen had gone to bed already.

But I was restless. There was a fire in my blood tonight and I couldn’t seem to quell it.

I glanced down at the bonfire again, then made up my mind.

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