Текст книги "On wings of blood"

Автор книги: Briar Boleyn

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CHAPTER 43 – MEDRA

My head was swimming. Below us, the courtyard had become a blur of black masks and flowing naked flesh.

My breath came in shallow pulls. The bloodwine. It had made a haze of every thought, knotting my mind into a cloud of confusion and heightening my worst desires.

Letting Blake touch me had been a very, very bad idea.

I should have run when I’d had the chance.

Would he have let me? Or would he have held me here and forced me to watch?

It didn’t matter. He hadn’t forced me. I’d stayed.

I hadn’t elbowed him in the stomach or shoved him away. I’d let him slowly undress me, baring my body to the air as he ran those strong hands of his wantonly over it.

Now he was inside me. Fucking me. His fingers thrusting in perfect rhythm. And all I could think about was how good it felt, how sweet the release would be when he finally let me come.

I was close now. My body was responding to him as if it had been waiting for this all its life.

I hated myself for my reactions. But even more, I hated how I didn’t want him to stop.

Each touch of his fingers sent a torrent of flame dancing across my skin.

My eyes flicked back to the courtyard where the girl rode up and down on the highblood’s lap as he fed on her, lapping at her blood with a predatory yet seductive hunger.

His feeding was somehow heightening her sensations. Is this what it would be like with Blake? I tried to imagine his fangs sinking into my flesh.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the blightborn girl even though I knew every bit of this was wrong. Watching her was like watching my own transgressive desires unfolding. Raw and unfiltered for everyone to see.

Blake’s hand rocked into me, his fingers thrusting again and again. I arched backwards, a moan stifled against his hand. It was humiliating to have him quiet me. But there was something incredibly erotic about him holding me captive, too.

I whimpered as his thumb skimmed over my clit.

His name was on the tip of my lips. I’d come so close to saying it already. Somehow, I’d managed to hold back.

Down below the girl had reached the peak of her frenzy. She slammed her body down onto the highblood’s cock again and again, her cries of pleasure filling the courtyard as she rode him.

The sight of her there, the sound of her, the knowledge of her ecstasy–all of it was driving me straight towards the edge. The pressure built up inside me, hotter and hotter.

I was almost there.

“Come for me, little dragon. Fly over that cliff and fucking soar,” Blake murmured in my ear.

And then there it was. I was coming. I was lost in the feeling of heat rushing through me. Rich warmth flooding my body. I was a dragon, exploding in fire like a shooting star in the night sky.

I muffled a scream against Blake’s hand, my body throbbing in the overwhelming rush of release.

Below us, the girl’s cries rocked the marble chamber as she climaxed, her pleasure unleashed, completely wild with abandon.

Emotions flowed through me as I came back down to earth, my heart beginning to settle into something like a normal tempo.

Relief. Shock. Awe.

I had never come like that before. So fast, so hard. Not for anyone. Not for any of the awkward stable boys who’d put their lips between my thighs, hardly knowing what to do. Not for any of the young courtiers I’d let slip into my bed.

It had never been like this before. So intense. So fucking good.

Of course, it had to have been Blake.

He slipped his hand out from me, as if with the utmost reluctance, then slowly drew the bodice of my dress up over my breasts and helped me slip my arms through the straps.

I could smell myself on him. The raw scent of sweat and salt and desire. It turned me on even now to know I was all over him, coating his hand with my slickness.

It was primal and crude. He’d marked me, entered me, filled me up with himself. But I’d left my mark on him, too.

If this was how good his fucking fingers felt, I could only imagine how... No, I was not going to let myself think that. I wouldn’t, couldn’t go there.

Blake’s mouth was hot against my ear, his hands tight and possessive on my waist. “You're mine, Pendragon. Let another man touch you like I just did and you’ll find out just how much of an asshole I can really be.”

I jerked away from him, the aftermath of pleasure suddenly shifting to disgust. “You just had to ruin it, didn't you?”

He shot me a look of confusion, as if I’d wounded him somehow. “Wasn’t it good for you?” He shook his head. “You were perfect. Incredible. Everything I’d ever imagined.”

Part of me wanted to admit he’d been pretty good himself. But instead, I looked down at the courtyard.

Something had happened while we’d been standing there talking.

The girl. What was happening to the girl?

“What the fuck is this?” I hissed, my voice brittle. “What the hell is going on?”

He moved back towards me, standing at my shoulder as we looked down at the scene below. His hand hovered at my waist, still possessive, but this time I made no move to push him away.

Suddenly, I was too afraid for that.

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CHAPTER 44 – BLAKE

It was a good fucking question.

What were they doing?

I’d never actually attended an Adoration Rite. But I hadn’t wanted to let Pendragon know that, lest she feel even more uncertain about staying where she was.

I knew the rite involved a blightborn girl who would freely give an offering of her body and her blood in front of the congregation–now predominantly made up of my uncle’s most loyal followers and the top ranking nobles from each of the four houses.

Afterwards, the girl was promised riches and glory. Her family was well-compensated but she could never return to them. She would spend the rest of her days in the Sanctum, cared for by the votaries of the Bloodmaiden.

At least, that was what I had always thought happened.

Like most of the younger highbloods, we’d only learned about the rite through whispers and rumors. Through overheard bits of information pillaged from our parents and elders.

Now, as I looked down at the blightborn girl slumped over the throne, I knew with certainty that she was dead.

Around the throne, the masked highbloods were rising and pulling their robes back on.

The highblood man stood up, lifting the Bloodmaiden into his arms. Blood still trickled from the fang marks at her throat.

He’d done that. He’d killed her. He’d murdered her for the rite. Was it always this way? Or had something gone horribly wrong?

I was a highblood. I should have known better than to even ask that question.

Limp in his arms, the blightborn girl looked almost peaceful, her pale face framed by the gleam of blood trickling slowly from the puncture marks on her neck.

The crowd of masked highbloods parted as the man walked between them, towards the silver bowl in the center of the courtyard.

Without a word, he reached up with one hand and pulled down the long silver chains that dangled from the ceiling. The links clinked softly as he began to wrap them around the girl’s ankles. Other masked onlookers stepped forward. Together they helped him pull the chains taut, then hoist her body up into the air.

The blightborn girl’s body swung gently above the silver bowl.

A soft pattering sound broke the silence as blood from her throat began to drip into the bowl below.

I stood perfectly still beside Pendragon, my hand still frozen at her waist, staring down at the silver bowl as the blood pooled.

Slowly, the basin began to glow with light.

The energy radiating from it was palpable. Humming through the courtyard like a low and steady pulse.

I realized what must be happening. The blood was powering some sort of enchantment. A powerful one.

Then it clicked into place.

The girl was fuel.

The glow around the bowl grew stronger, illuminating the faces of the masked highbloods standing around it.

My jaw tightened as I understood. The coercive magic that kept the blightborn compliant, relatively docile. This was how it was achieved.

There was a sickening twist in my gut as I glanced down at Pendragon. She was frozen, her face pale, her expression a mix of shock and horror.

My hand tightened instinctively on her waist and she jerked her head up.

I saw it then. The look of complete betrayal.

She thought I knew. She thought I’d purposely made her stay to watch...this. A girl’s life force being drained away to fuel a magic that controlled thousands of innocent lives.

I nearly laughed. Then I caught myself. There was nothing funny about the look in her eyes.

She yanked out of my grasp and sprinted away from me.

I glanced down at the courtyard below before following, praying no one would spot us. If I’d thought letting her stay was risky before, now I knew things would turn deadly in a heartbeat if we were caught.

She was moving fast, heading back to the panel that led to the secret staircase, but my vampire speed made it easy to catch up.

I closed the gap between us, stepping in front of her.

Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her a little.

“Pendragon, stop,” I hissed, my grip tightening as she tried to pull away.

Her eyes were wild with anger.

“Just calm down.” The words came out rougher than I’d intended.

“Calm down? After what I just saw?” She yanked herself free again, stepping back as if my touch burned her. “How dare you tell me to calm down after you stood there and let me watch that... that horror.”

“I didn’t know,” I blurted out. “I didn't know she was going to die. You have to believe me.”

“Oh, you knew.” Her voice was trembling with rage. “You knew exactly what was going to happen. I may have been an intruder but you were an invited guest. You were supposed to be down there, with them, weren’t you?”

I struggled to keep my composure. “Both things can be true. I’m telling you the truth.”

She gave a bitter laugh. But I saw there were tears in her eyes. “You knew she’d be sacrificed. You had to have known. You know who I believe didn’t know?” She paused. “Regan.”

I stared at her. “You think Regan would have actually cared? You think she would have stopped them?”

She shook her head slowly. “No. I think you highbloods all keep secrets from one another. But you–a Drakharrow–you’re in on the worst secrets of all. You’re sick, Blake. You’re a monster."

“I didn’t know,” I tried to say again.

“Stop lying,” she shouted.

Her voice was too loud.

I jerked into action before I could stop myself, darting forward to grab her. In an instant I had her tossed over my shoulder.

In another second, the panel had opened and shut. We were in the stairwell. I flew down the stairs with her struggling in my arms, beating at my back with her fists.

Only when we were far enough inside the passage did I finally put her down. Then I reached into a recess in the wall and pulled out the lamp I had hidden there.

As I lit it, she slapped me full across the face.

I grimaced but made no move to retaliate.

I watched as the tears fell from her eyes.

“You knew,” she said quietly. “The bowl. The chains. What else would they have been for?”

My heart thundered in my chest. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. The bowl is always there. Not the chains. I knew they’d take some of her blood. But she was supposed to be willing.”

“Oh, she was willing all right.” Pendragon’s voice dripped with irony. “So willing she fell for your highblood bullshit, hook, line and sinker. That’s the only part of it that...” She trailed off, shaking her head.

I felt a drop of water hit my face. One of her tears.

“She didn’t suffer,” I said softly. “If that’s what you meant. I don’t think she even knew it was happening.”

She sniffled. “It doesn’t make it any better.”

“I know.”

“What was it for? What the hell was it for? Why did they kill her?” She stepped closer, her face twisted with disdain. “Tell me the truth for once in your life.”

My throat tightened as I struggled with what to share. The weight of the lie I was about to tell pressing down on me. But how could I possibly tell her the truth?

I hesitated, my voice caught in my throat.

“Tell me!” Pendragon’s voice cracked, her fury showing through. She shoved me hard in the chest, pushing me backwards. “What was all that blood for?”

My jaw clenched. “Magic. Some sort of a spell.”

“For what? What were they doing?” she persisted.

I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. “I don’t know. They didn’t tell me. They didn’t even tell me she was going to die. I guess tonight was supposed to be my... initiation. If I’d shown up.”

Pendragon covered her mouth. “Kage.”

Even now, I felt rage rising at the sound of his name on her lips. “What about him?”

“He’s a house leader, too. Was he there?” she demanded. “Wearing one of those masks?”

I shook my head wearily. “I have no idea. He might have been. But it wasn’t mandatory to attend. It’s supposed to be a privilege. They knew we had the ball tonight. Maybe Kage stayed at Bloodwing.” I wondered if Catherine Mortis or Lysander Oprhos had been in the Sanctum.

“A privilege,” she said with sarcasm. “Right. What a wonderful fucking privilege. As if you aren’t all privileged enough. So what privilege was the spell for this time? What sick tradition? You already think you own us. You sacrifice blightborns as if we’re worthless. You already control this entire cursed kingdom...”

Her eyes widened, horror dawning in them.

I stayed silent.

“Oh, my gods,” she breathed, taking a step back as if I’d struck her. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? The spell. It’s like thrallweave. It’s to control the blightborn in the city. To keep them compliant.”

My stomach dropped, the truth hanging in the air between us, thick and oppressive.

Her voice broke. “How could you? How can you be a part of this? Why do you hate us so much?”

My throat tightened as I saw her pain. I stepped towards her, desperate to comfort her somehow.

“Stay back,” she whispered. “Stay away from me. Don’t you dare fucking touch me.”

I swallowed. “I didn’t choose this. None of this is what I wanted. I was born a highblood.” I took a deep breath. “Some highbloods murder blightborn to feed, yes. You probably figured that out already. But it’s never supposed to happen at Bloodwing. And I...do not. I swear that to you, Pendragon.”

“Why?” she challenged me. “Why not kill us for your food? Why limit yourself? Why hold back?”

“Because the idea sickens me,” I burst out. “To take a life like that. For that reason. Not to protect myself or to protect...” I’d almost said “to protect you.” “Or to protect another. Not in self-defense but simply out of willful indulgence. I hate the idea of it. And so did my father. He tried to change things.”

“And then he died,” she said simply.

I nodded tightly. ‘Yes.”

“So why don’t you do something about it?” she said, her voice deceptively soft. “You stand by and let these people die. You let them murder that girl. You could stop it, but you don’t.”

My heart twisted. “You think I could have stopped that, even if I’d known? Gone up against that many older highbloods? They would have killed me just like they did her.”

“No way. You’re a Drakharrow,” she spat. “A fucking prince of the Blessed Blood. Your uncle is the most powerful vampire lord in Sangratha.”

“None of that would have mattered to them,” I said, trying to control my frustration. “You think my uncle would try to save me? He was down there with them. Wearing one of those masks. Fuck, he might have been the man on the throne for all I know.”

For a second she froze. Then a look of complete revulsion came over her face.

“I think I'm going to be sick,” she muttered, turning away.

I grabbed her arm, then quickly released it as I saw the look on her face. “Look, I know all you want to do is run away but you need to listen to me.”

“I don’t have to listen to a single damn thing you say,” she snapped.

“Yes,” I snarled. “You do. If you want to live, you do. And if you try to run, I will stop you. So you will stay and you will listen. Don’t make me touch you again.”

I could practically see her gnashing her teeth. If she’d had fangs of her own, she’d have ripped my throat out.

“Fine,” she finally spat. “Speak.”

I took a deep breath. “You can’t tell anyone about this. None of it. Not what you saw, not what you’ve learned. If you say anything, you will be killed. Do you understand? They’ll kill you. And not only you.”

Her face was pale but her eyes were full of fire. “Really, Blake? You’re trying to scare me into silence?”

“I’m trying to make you understand how serious this is,” I growled, hoping the desperation would be evident in my voice. “You think I want to threaten you? You think I enjoy all of this? What I’m telling you is true. You can’t say anything. Not a word. Not to your friend Florence. Not to that dwarf you hang around with. No one. If you do, they’ll be killed–right along with you.”

Her lips parted slightly. “Florence...”

I nodded, my voice softening slightly. “Yes, Florence. If you care about her. About any of your friends, you’ll keep quiet.”

I felt like a complete and utter asshole. But what else could I do?

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

I watched her mind race as she clenched and unclenched her fists at her side. I understood. Her world had just unraveled at the seams. And now there I was, trying to sew things back together with lies and guilt.

“Fine,” she finally whispered. “I won’t say anything.”

I exhaled. “Thank you.” I could feel the tension in my shoulders loosen a little.

I gestured ahead of us in the direction of Bloodwing. “Let me go first. My night vision is better.”

I stepped carefully around her and started walking.

A few moments later, I could hear her begin to follow. She kept her distance. I held the lantern high enough that she’d be able to see the path.

The night hadn’t turned out quite the way I’d hoped it would.

Now Pendragon hated me even more than she had before.

But not as much as I hated myself.

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CHAPTER 45 – MEDRA

The night’s horrors weren’t over. Not even close.

I followed Blake through the darkened tunnels, my mind racing. I kept my eyes on his back, unable to shake the memory of the girl’s lifeless body hanging over the silver bowl.

I had so many more questions I wanted answers to. But before I could confront him again, we’d somehow reached the First Year tower and a new kind of chaos descended upon us.

The ball had ended hours ago and so I had expected the Common Room to be deserted. Instead it was filled with people, most of them looking frightened and panicked.

“Medra!” Florence's voice sliced through the noise as she ran towards me. “Where have you been?” She grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me into a hug. “I was so worried about you.”

She barely glanced at Blake, her attention locked on me. Before I could answer, she continued, “It’s one of the housekeeper’s children! A little girl. Poppy. She’s gone missing. Professor Rodriguez is organizing search parties.”

Sure enough, I caught sight of the dark-haired faculty member in the center of the crowd, his face haggard as he pointed at students and barked orders.

I blinked, suddenly feeling exhausted and disoriented. “What do you mean she’s gone? She’s a child. Maybe she just wandered off.”

I thought of all the times I had gone sneaking around the castle in Camelot, without a word to my poor nurse.

“No, you don’t understand.” Florence’s gentle voice shook. “There was blood. On her pillow.”

Blood. My stomach churned, the memories of the rite surging through me like a flood wave.

The servants at Bloodwing were all blightborn, of course. They mostly worked at night, while we students were asleep. They lived in the lower reaches of the castle. We hardly ever saw them. Their children mostly lived away from them, attending blightborn schools in Veilmar. But I knew many had come home for the Frostfire Festival, to celebrate with their families.

These were humble people, just doing their jobs while we–the privileged students, and yes, I included myself in that category for once–attended our classes at the academy.

Their children should have been safe. They were innocent.

I thought of the soft patter of blood filling the silver bowl and shivered.

It was happening again. Now. Here. Tonight. This time to an innocent child.

Panic swelled in my throat.

I turned slowly to Blake.

His face had gone even paler than usual. His expression was grim. “I have to go.”

“Where?” I demanded, stepping in front of him. I glimpsed the look of surprise on Florence’s face. “You can't just leave. Not now.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes darting towards the entrance. “I have to find out what’s going on.”

“You know something, don't you?” I said accusingly, lowering my voice. “You’re not leaving me behind. If you know something, tell me. I’m coming with you.”

“This isn’t a fucking game,” he growled. I sensed his frustration. And beneath it, fear. “Stay here. Where it’s safe.”

I tilted my face up towards him stubbornly. “You want me to stay quiet about tonight? Then I’m coming with you. If you know where that girl is, I’m coming.”

Florence was watching us, her brown eyes wide. I tried to give her a reassuring smile.

Blake glanced at her. I knew he was wondering if she’d overheard.

“Pendragon is coming with me,” Blake said, his voice gentler than usual as he looked at my friend. “I’ll bring her back to you soon.”

Florence pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose, then nodded slowly.

I touched her arm briefly, before I followed Blake out of the tower and back into the hall.

There was no doubt in my mind that he knew exactly where he was going.

He led us to the Dragon Court again, his pace much quicker than before. As we slipped down into the passageway, he strode ahead with purpose.

When we reached the vast chamber with the massive dragon skull at its center, the imposing stone doorways marked with the four house names loomed ahead.

Blake paused, nostrils flaring, as if he were tracking something elusive in the air. He tilted his head slightly, sniffing like an animal.

Then with a low grunt of recognition, he strode into the passage marked Avari.

My heart raced. Did this have something to do with Kage?

Blake’s speed left no room for my questions. He moved through the Avari dragon catacombs without a word and I followed as quickly as I could, trying not to lose sight of him. I knew he was already holding himself back so I could keep up.

This time, when we reached the end of the dragon tombs, the passageway led straight down. We descended steep staircase after staircase, delving down into the earth itself.

At first, the stairways were plain stone. Then their style began to change, shifting into a different kind of architecture, nothing like anything I’d seen at Bloodwing. These stairways seemed even older than the academy itself.

The stairs ended and we entered a new passage. Some of it had collapsed almost entirely, stone crumbling into dust and rubble.

Blake climbed over large fallen stones, then reached back for my hand without a word, guiding me through the narrow gaps.

Each time his hand grazed my skin, I trembled. Whether from fear or revulsion or something else, who could say?

The tunnels opened onto a vast space. The remnants of once-grand architecture surrounded us, cracked and crumbling but still awe-inspiring in their craftsmanship. Panels of gold and glittering green stones shone from buildings stretching upwards twenty or thirty feet or more.

My breath hitched. Dwarven ruins. Magnificent and lost to time.

I felt like an intruder in a forgotten world. Did anyone else even know these were here?

As we walked through the ruins, a sound broke the stillness.

A girl’s high-pitched giggle, eerie and out of place.

A sharp, terrified scream followed. It sounded as if it had come from a much younger-sounding child.

My blood ran cold.

Blake’s reaction was swift. He ran forward toward the sounds.

I chased after him and we ran through crumbling streets until we reached another open area, surrounded by half-collapsed buildings.

A small girl, no more than four or five, lay crumpled on the ground. Over her crouched Blake’s sister, Aenia. Her mouth was slick with blood as she leaned over the younger child, sucking greedily.

My stomach twisted, Aenia’s cruel laughter still echoing in my ears.

But Blake didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward. In a heartbeat, he had grabbed Aenia and yanked her off the little girl.

The small highblood screamed and snarled in response, her eyes wild as she bared her fangs at her brother. She thrashed about in his arms, scratching at his face with viciousness like a savage animal.

“Aenia!” Blake barked. His voice was sharp with authority but it didn’t seem to even reach her. She writhed in his grasp, trying to sink her teeth into him as if she’d lost all sense of who and where she was.

“Grab the child,” Blake snarled in my direction, his voice full of urgency. “Quickly.”

Aenia’s nails left trails of blood on his skin as she hissed and scratched but Blake didn’t falter. He held her firm as I darted forward.

For a moment, I stood, frozen, looking down at the little girl’s body. Poppy. That was her name. She looked like a lifeless doll. Blood was flowing freely from the wounds at her throat.

Then I saw it. She was breathing. Only just.

“Give me something,” I cried, desperately, turning back to Blake. “Anything. To stop the blood.”

Shifting Aenia under one arm, he somehow managed to peel off the jacket he was wearing and tossed it to me. Quickly, I ripped one of the sleeves off and tied it around Poppy’s neck as tightly as I dared, then wrapped the rest around the little girl and lifted her up into my arms.

She was so light, so fragile. I could feel the warmth of her blood soaking through Blake’s jacket, sticking to my skin.

Before I could move towards the way out, Aenia let out a feral scream of rage and broke free from Blake's grasp.

She fell to the ground in a heap then leaped to her feet and dashed  towards me.

But Blake was faster.

In a blur of motion, he came between us.

“Aenia, stop!” Power flowed through the words. His voice carried the unmistakable command of thrallweave.

Aenia froze mid-lunge, her body trembling violently as she tried to shake off his hold. Her tiny fists shook at her side, her face twisted with fury. But she couldn't move.

I’d had no idea he could do anything like that. That he could use thrallguard on another highblood. Then I wondered if anyone really knew what Blake Drakharrow was truly capable of, least of all me.

Blake scooped up Aenia again, holding her more tightly, her arms pinned at her sides.

“Can you get the girl back to the tower alone?” His voice was strained but controlled.

I nodded tightly. “I think so. What are you going to do with her?”

Blake didn’t answer.

“You can’t keep letting her hurt people.” The image of the little fluffin I'd found injured on the beach flashed through my mind. “First it was the fluffin. And now look at her! I know she's your sister, but she nearly killed this child. How many others has she already killed that you don’t know about?”

“It’s none of your concern. You think I don’t already know all of this?” Blake snarled.

“I have no idea what you know and don't know,” I said slowly. “Or if you really care.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he spat.

“Then what are you going to do about it?” I demanded. “Because if you don’t stop her, she’ll keep hurting people. She would have killed this girl and you know it. What happens next time?”

Blake's gaze darkened. “This isn’t the time or the place for this conversation. I’ll handle Aenia. You just take care of the girl.”

“How?” I started to say.

He turned towards me, his face dark with fury. “Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time, Pendragon. Take the girl and get out of here. Now.”

He didn’t use thrallguard, I’d give him that much. But there was power in his voice nonetheless.

I took a step back. “Fine. So you’ll just keep covering for her, protecting her, while she tears apart blightborn children as if they’re nothing.” I shook my head. “I guess I’m an idiot for thinking any highblood would actually care about something like that.”

Blake’s face hardened, but he didn’t reply.

I turned and began to walk back through the dark tunnels, cradling Poppy in my arms.

The little girl’s breaths were weak and shallow, but reassuring in their steadiness.

As I passed the room with the large dragon skull the ground beneath my feet suddenly shifted. A low rumble began, growing louder and louder, causing the very stones underfoot to vibrate.

I picked up my pace, half-running, half-walking through the dim passageways.

Chunks of stone began raining down from the ceiling. I stumbled, my knees hitting the cold, hard ground. As debris fell around us, I curled my body over the little girl’s, shielding her as best I could.

The tremor finally passed leaving silence in its wake.

When I was sure it was over, I struggled back to my feet, legs wobbling as I held the child close.

Fifteen minutes later, I finally reached the First Year Common Room. I burst through the door, sweat pouring down my face.

Florence rushed towards me.

“Medra!” she cried, as she took in the sight of the wounded girl. “Poppy! You found her. Thank the Bloodmaiden.” Her shoulders sagged in relief.

I cringed at her choice of words, but knew this was not the time.

Professor Rodriguez was crouched by the hearth, stoking the fire. When he saw me, he rose quickly. Crossing the room, he took the girl from my arms and placed her gently upon a couch. He knelt down beside her, unfastening my makeshift tourniquet, and pressing his fingers gently against the wounds at her neck.

“Fetch her mother,” he ordered one of the speechless students standing nearby. The boy ran off immediately. “You.” He pointed to another student, a cowering girl. “Go fetch a healer. Tell them to bring a litter she can be carried in.”

Minutes later, we could hear the poor mother’s panicked sobs from the hallway before she even appeared. The housekeeper was a pretty blightborn woman with long black braided hair. She fell to her knees beside her daughter, cradling Poppy’s face. Tears streamed down her cheeks as Rodriguez continued his ministrations.