Текст книги "On wings of blood"

Автор книги: Briar Boleyn

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Once this was over, if I made it out of this courtyard alive, I would really have to re-consider the idea that I was going mad, I decided.

Was that the kind of thing healers here could help with? Somehow I doubted it. I pictured trying to explain to Professor Rodriguez that there was a woman’s voice in my head...and it wasn’t mine. I doubted that would go well.

You think you're bereft. But I'm here, aren't I?

Oh, yes, I responded sarcastically. And a great help you’ve been. Interrupting me at the very worst of times.

But there was no response. Perhaps I’d finally been rude enough to frighten her away.

I managed to catch a glimpse at the edge of the roped off area. A number of students had come over to watch the fight. I saw Blake’s face among them. He wasn't cheering for Visha like some of the other vampire students were doing. His face was a blank slate.

But his eyes followed me. Not Visha. Me.

The knowledge that he was watching me, judging me, probably hoping that I’d fail suddenly gave me the second wind I needed. I felt a rush of energy breaking through my fatigue and pushing me onwards.

Something shifted.

No, I wasn’t a vampire. I could never match Visha for speed. I had come through my journey between worlds emptied of the fae powers I’d only just begun to learn how to access in Aercanum.

I had my body but only that. Nothing else was the same.

But standing there, on the matted earth with sunlight streaming down on us, I felt a fiery warmth spread through my veins. I took a deep breath and my heartbeat steadied. My senses sharpened.

Every detail suddenly seemed to stand out vividly, in a way it hadn’t just a few moments before.

The sheen of sweat on Visha’s brow. The way she was panting between blows. She was tiring, I saw with shock. I might not have been winning but I was certainly making her work for her victory.

The whistle of our spears cutting through the air suddenly filled my ears like screams.

The uneven texture of the ground beneath my boots sharpened.

I had something. Something even that monster Viktor Drakharrow had recognized. There might not have been dragons, but I had a dragon rider’s build.

I had instincts to guide me. I just had to figure out how the hell to access them. In time, with practice, maybe my reflexes and agility could make me more skilled than most mortals. Maybe even skilled enough to beat a vampire.

My body flipped to the side as Visha came at me again, changing direction so quickly that I caught a look of shock in the other girl’s eyes.

No, I didn’t possess vampire speed. But my limbs were slightly longer than Visha's–than any student at Bloodwing. I might not have speed but I had something. Endurance. The very fact that Visha was starting to tire proved that, didn’t it?

Visha thrust her spear against mine and our weapons collided, my teeth practically rattling in my head at the impact. My back was up against the ropes again. I could feel the harsh lines cutting into the fabric of my tunic and digging into my skin.

The highblood students around us were jeering and laughing. Some were shouting taunts, others placing bets on how much longer it would take for me to be defeated.

But when I looked, Blake was no longer among them. He wasn’t across the courtyard either. So much for supervising.

I adjusted my grip on the spear, my stance becoming more balanced, more tightly grounded. I dug my feet into the dirt, preparing myself.

As Visha swung her spear in a wide arc, aiming at my side, I reacted as quickly as I could–ducking low and spinning away with a grace that surprised even myself.

The shift in the battle was subtle at first.

A well-timed parry here. A quicker step there.

I started to anticipate Visha's strikes, counter them with great precision.

The tables were turning.

I drove Visha back with a series of rapid, controlled thrusts.

And then, I saw my opening and took it and, shocking even myself, with a swift, powerful strike I knocked Visha’s spear right out of her hands, sending it clattering to the ground.

I leveled my spear at the other girl’s chest. “Yield.”

She glared at me, her eyes filled with venom.

But she had to know there was no choice.

Without a word, she turned away, her expression twisting with anger and humiliation.

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. Applause from my fellow students? Not fucking likely.

But as I turned my back and moved towards the ropes, I felt the thrill of victory mingled with relief.

I’d just started to duck under the ropes when I caught a twitch of movement in the corner of my eye.

Then Visha was on me, yanking me back by the collar of my shirt.

For a second, I gagged, the fabric of the tunic tight around my neck, choking me.

Then I was crashing down, my back slamming into the hard dirt of the courtyard.

Visha was a whirlwind. She landed on my chest, straddling me, all sharp edges and ruthless speed. Her fists connected with my face, then my ribs. I tried to shift onto my side and shove her off but it was too late. Her knee collided with my stomach.

Nausea swept through me as I felt ribs pop and break.

But another part of me was already fighting back, instincts charged.

Visha was still laughing as I drove my fist into her jaw. Her head swung to the side, but not fast enough for me to miss the lock of shock in her eyes.

She recovered quicker than I’d expected, her eyes narrowing in cold fury. Without warning, she grabbed a fistful of dirt from the ground beside us and shoved it into my face, rubbing it into my eyes and my mouth.

The gritty soil stung my eyes, blinding me momentarily, and Visha took full advantage. She grabbed the back of my head and smashed it back down again and again.

I screamed in anger. With a burst of strength, I shoved her off, and rolled to the side.

I crouched there, palms flat in the dirt, spitting out mud and squinting.

I felt like an animal. Like I’d been reduced to less than vampire, less than fae, less than mortal.

I was trembling with rage. Tears of anger were running down my face.

I’d fought a fae god, but even then I wasn’t sure I’d felt this much hate. That fight had been cold. Brutal, yes, but not dirty.

Visha came at me again, sharp nails outstretched, clearly aiming for my face.

I dodged and rolled, feeling the rush of air as she missed me by inches, and kicked out at her shins.

With a cry she dropped to her knees. I scrambled, intending to get past her but she was too fast for me. Her hand reached out, yanking me by the hair so hard I gasped.

She pulled me down beside her and punched me squarely in the nose. I heard a sharp crack and blood sprayed into my eyes.

Instantly, Visha’s fangs flared like white pearls and for a moment she hovered over me, eyes wide and dilated. She sniffed the air hungrily and I held my breath, expecting her to lose herself in a frenzy at any moment.

Then, as if with great effort, she shook her head and snarled. “You didn’t think you were actually going to get out of here, did you, bitch?”

She reached down to her side and I saw a flash of silver. A knife.

Visha still had me by the hair. Now she lowered her lips closer to my face. “You look good in the dirt. It’s where you belong.”

I started to lift my head, intending to smash her in the face with it.

“That's enough, ladies. Break it up.” The voice carried over the crowd, deep and resonant.

For a moment, Visha’s hand stayed poised over me. Then the knife disappeared into her palm.

“I said break it up. Get off her, Visha. Now. Or you’ll be packing your bags before nightfall. She beat you. Fair and square. I saw it all. But you decided you were done playing fair.”

I turned my head to see who was speaking.

An extremely tall man with dark ebony skin had appeared on the outskirts of the crowd of students. There was a noble air to his attractive face. His silver hair was tightly curled and closely cropped to his head. A gold ring hung from one ear. He stood tall with his legs spread and his arms folded over a broad, heavily muscled chest. Our instructor, I presumed.

Blake stood beside him. If I hadn’t known better, I might have thought the expression on the highblood’s face was one of worry. Was he afraid he’d be getting into trouble for what he’d allowed to transpire?

Visha hissed. “Combat isn’t about playing nice, Professor.”

“No, but it’s the first day of class and I’m not ready for our first murder,” the teacher said calmly.

I flinched.

The man sighed. “You cheated, Visha. There. Is that blunt enough for you? Get up.”

Visha slowly stood.

“This isn’t over,” she murmured as she looked down at me.

“You’ve got that right.” I spit out a mouthful of dirt and tried to ignore the smirk on her face.

“Give her your hand, Visha,” the man instructed. “Someday soon you’ll be fighting not just your fellow students, but ones from visiting academies. Show some fucking grace.”

Visha looked furious. She glanced once at the blood still trickling from my nose, then did as he said, holding her hand out.

“No fucking way am I taking that thing,” I said, heaving myself to my feet on my own.

I groaned and clutched my chest. I was pretty sure something was broken. A rib. Maybe two.

“Pendragon, to me. Everyone else, clear out and get back to work,” the instructor snapped. “There’s half an hour of class left and I expect to see you use it.”

I walked stiffly over to the ropes as Visha slunk away across the courtyard.

I could feel Blake there, standing beside the instructor, so I was trying not to show how much I hurt. But there was blood running down my face from my nose and into my mouth. I was panting and covered with dirt. And my chest ached everytime I breathed. I was pretty sure it was obvious.

Gingerly, I took up a position a safe distance away from Blake. I still wasn’t sure what effect the sight of my blood had on him. Would he lose control like Visha almost had?

“So, this is the already-infamous Medra Pendragon,” the instructor said, stepping forward as I came out from under the ropes. He gripped me by the arm and helped me down the rest of the way. “I’m Sebastian Sankara, your professor.”

“Glad you were able to make it,” I said, with not a little bitterness.

“Yes, well, you were the one out of place.” Professor Sankara touched a hand to his chin. “I’ve just checked the roster and you aren’t on it, Miss Pendragon. You weren’t supposed to be here. This class is for advanced students who have attended Bloodwing for at least one year.”

I closed my eyes for a moment. “I’m not surprised to hear that, Professor. Being at the wrong place at the wrong time is basically how my entire day has been going.” I opened my eyes and looked over at Blake, but the bastard’s face was unreadable.

I took a deep breath then winced as my ribs twisted painfully. “I’m sorry for disrupting your class, Professor. It was listed on my timetable so I showed up. I’ll have to sort out where I’m actually supposed to be.”

“Yes, I think a meeting with the headmaster is certainly in order,” Sankara agreed. “But that wasn’t the only reason I wanted to speak with you.”

Belatedly I realized something. Unlike my first two professors that day, Professor Sankara was a vampire. I caught glimpses of his razor sharp fangs appearing and disappearing as he spoke. I’d been so distracted it had taken me this long just to notice.

“Miss Pendragon? Did you hear what I said? This class is exclusively for vampires.”

I sighed. “Right. I guess I should have figured that out.”

I reached down to grab my spear from where it had fallen out of the ring so I could carry it back to the rack. Bad idea. I suppressed a groan.

“At least, it usually is exclusively for vampires,” Sankara went on. “Exceptions have been made.”

My head shot up. “Excuse me?”

Professor Sankara was looking at me thoughtfully. “You showed admirable skill with a spear in your duel with Miss Vaidya. Most students wouldn’t have dared to go toe to toe with her. Or with any vampire, for that matter.”

My heart thudded. So he’d been watching us for a while. This professor seemed more personable than the other vampires I’d encountered. But he’d seen Visha grab me by the hair after I’d already won our first round. And he hadn’t seen fit to intervene. He’d waited and watched to see what would happen. And let Visha kick the shit out of me until he deemed it had gone far enough.

I lifted my chin. “Well, I guess that’s another reason I wasn’t meant to be in this place. I do dare.”

“Or it’s the very reason you belong here,” Professor Sankara replied. “You’re clearly not unschooled. Who taught you how to fight?”

“I had a tutor,” I said slowly. “Back where I come from. She taught me everything I know about combat.”

“She must have been a very impressive woman,” Sankara said. “I’d like to meet her.”

“She’s dead,” I said shortly.

Blake’s head jerked up. Our eyes met. His gray ones honed into me.

I looked away. “Do the students really kill each other here?” I asked.

“At Bloodwing?” Sankara nodded. “Sometimes. It’s a ruthless world, Miss Pendragon. The school reflects that. The students here have to be the very best to get here in the first place. But once they’re here, that’s just the start of it. You have to earn your place at Bloodwing every day. The highbloods who are your friends now might be your worst enemy a few years down the road. Some of our most ferocious wars have been fought between houses. And if you can’t keep your place, well...” He shrugged. “Someone might decide to take it from you.”

“That’s horrible,” I said.

“None of you are children,” he replied. “These–” He gestured around him, with a pointed look at Blake. “Are the future leaders of Sangratha. We need them to be strong.”

“Strong and merciless,” I said bitterly.

“Strong enough to protect this land and all the people in it, including the weak,” Sankara replied. “But you–you’re not weak, Miss Pendragon. Visha made a mistake when she assumed you were, didn’t she?”

“I wound up flat on my back in the dirt,” I said. “So pardon me if I’m surprised you think so.”

Sankara smiled slightly. “What I saw was a fighter with promise. I don’t think you’re in the wrong place. I think you’re in the right one.”

“What?” Blake and I spoke in unison.

I glared at him, but he was looking at Sankara.

“But, Professor, that’s impossible. This is an exclusive class, just like you said. She can’t be here. It’s for vampires. Highbloods only. The elite. She’s not one of us.” Blake glanced at me, looking me up and down. “Besides, look at her. If she’s in this state after half a class...”

He let the words hang there. They shouldn’t have stung as badly as they did. What did I care if Blake thought I was a failure?

Sankara rubbed his chin. “The elite, eh, Drakharrow? Yet from what I just saw, Pendragon has the potential to be as talented a fighter as...” He paused. “Well, who knows. Maybe even you.”

“Me?” Blake bristled. “I doubt that.” He frowned. “You know I respect you, Professor, but...”

“But what, Drakharrow?” The professor’s voice was suddenly dangerously cool. “You’re a student in this class. You were in charge. Were you really going to let Visha Vaidya stab your consort in full sight of the entire class? You could have intervened sooner than you did. So why didn’t you? Why did you wait for me to do something?”

I looked back and forth between the two men in confusion. What did Sankara mean? Blake hadn’t intervened at all.

Blake glanced at me. “As you saw, sir, Pendragon handled herself. Better than I could have expected. I thought it was more fair to at least give her a chance to prove herself.”

I scoffed. “You’re fucking unbelievable. Was that a backhanded compliment?”

“It sounds to me like you’re saying she might deserve to be here, Drakharrow,” Sankara observed with a small smile. “In any case, there’s certainly precedent for it.”

“Precedent?” I asked.

“Dragon riders used to have their own advanced combat classes,” Sankara explained. “They were the warriors of the skies, after all.”

“Did they fight alongside vampires...?” I asked, curious despite myself. “Did they train with them?”

“Absolutely. They had to. In fact, that’s something I’ll be mentioning to the headmaster when I speak to him about you later on. You’re the only rider in the school and that means your curriculum should be as unique as you are. I’m not sure much thought was put into it based on what you’ve said.”

“I was in History of Sangratha and Restoration before this,” I said.

Sankara raised a brow. “Everyone has to take History with Professor Hassan. But Restoration? I’m not sure how much practical value that will hold for you. Another mistake on your schedule perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” I said, glaring at Blake again. “Today has just been full of those.”

“Bloodmaiden! Look at the time. We’d better get you to a healer.” Sankara glanced at me as I wiped away blood from my nose. “Not all of the students here are as restrained as my older cohort here. So you’ll need an escort. What class are you supposed to have next?”

“Introduction to Bloodwing Libraries,” I said. “At least, that’s what my timetable says. I’m not sure it’s correct.”

The professor nodded. “That sounds right. All First Years have a general orientation to the libraries. But I’m not sure you’re going to make it. You might have to catch up later. I want you to head to the Drakharrow House healer first. After that, see if there’s time before Headmaster Kim’s Commencement Address is scheduled to begin in the Dragon Court.” He glanced at Blake. “I assume I can trust you to show Pendragon the way to your house healer with no trouble?”

“No trouble at all, Sir,” Blake said. He looked at me coldly. “I’ll take her now.”

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 8 – MEDRA

“I’m not a fucking parcel,” I snapped, as Professor Sankara walked off to speak with another student. “Just tell me where the healer is and I’ll find them. No need for us to spend any more time in one another’s company.”

“The professor said to take you, so I’m taking you,” Blake said stiffly. “Unless you truly want to wander the halls for hours aimlessly, hoping you find your way there on your own.”

“Asshole,” I muttered. “Fine. Lead on.”

He looked me up and down, then shook his head. “Visha sure got her claws into you.”

I knew I must look filthy. Not to mention my nose wouldn’t stop bleeding. I tilted my head up and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to stop the bleeding as I followed Blake out into the corridor.

A group of giggling students were passing by. Vampires, from the look of them. When they saw me they stopped babbling, their mouths opening and fangs protruding.

“What the fuck?” I muttered.

Blake gripped my arm, firmly but not painfully. “They’re First Years. Let’s move.” To them he snapped, “Get a grip.”

“Get off me,” I demanded, knowing it was useless.

Blake ignored me as I’d known he would. His pale features bore the same expression of frosty indifference I’d come to expect.

We moved through the halls. My nose still dripped faintly with blood. I kept a hand pressed to it, trying to stop the flow, finally resorting to wiping it covertly on my dirt-covered sleeve. I was already filthy. What were a few more bloodstains?

Every few steps, I glanced at Blake, wondering how he could stand to be this close to me with the scent of my blood in the air. Why wasn’t he reacting like Barnabas or Visha or even those First Years had?

We rounded a corner and suddenly came face to face with a group of students. They braked to a halt as they caught sight of Blake.

Walking behind the rest of his group came Kage Tanaka, the leader of House Avari who I’d seen in the refectory that morning.

I eyed him with interest. He stood tall, posture straight and commanding. His shock of white-blond hair was gathered into a neat queue at the back of his head, while the sides had been shaved close. Just above the collar of his black, silver trimmed uniform, I glimpsed the inked curve of a crescent moon curling along the side of its neck, dark lines stark against his skin.

His dark brown eyes flicked to mine with an intensity that seemed to take in everything, missing nothing.

Just like with Blake, there was a danger to Kage that was palpable. Simmering just beneath the surface. Coiled tight and ready to strike.

A student in front of me hissed and licked her lips.

Maybe the scent of blood was nothing to Blake. But these students were reacting to it, their nostrils flaring, their teeth snapping.

I moved to take a step back, but Blake’s grip on my arm held me in place.

“Well, well,” said a boy with spiked pale hair, stepping forward so he was directly in front of Blake and I. “Looks like someone’s having a little nosebleed.”

He gave me a look that seemed meant to be flirtatious. “Maybe I could help clean that up.”

“Get the fuck away from her, Kiernan,” Blake snarled. He glanced at Kage. “Call off your dogs, Tanaka. Or I’ll put them in line for you.”

Kage Tanaka shrugged slowly. His uniform fit him like a second skin, hugging the lean muscular lines of his body. He said nothing to the boy Blake had called Kiernan.

My body tensed. I could feel myself preparing for another fight.

Kiernan grinned. Then he darted forward.

Before he could even touch me, Blake moved, so quickly I could hardly see what happened next.

Then the boy was flying backwards. His back hit the stone wall and he slid to the floor, his hands clutching his neck. He stared up at us, eyes bulging. His mouth moved but no sounds came out.

“What the hell, Drakharrow? It was just a joke,” one of the girls at the front of the group said angrily. She moved to help Kiernan up.

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” Blake growled, his voice low and dangerous. His gray eyes were as sharp as a blade. I could feel his anger. It radiated off his body, barely restrained.

He moved forward, pulling me along with him, and the group of House Avari students parted quickly.

As we walked past Kage Tanaka, Blake nodded tersely.

Kage smiled slightly.

“Let’s keep moving,” Blake muttered, his tone flat. We turned the next corner and he released a slow breath and ran his free hand through his hair.

“What the hell was that about?” I hissed.

“No one can touch you,” he said shortly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” I laughed nervously. “That boy was about to... what? Drink me? Lick me? He only stopped because you punched him in the throat. Is this how it is for the blightborn? Every time I cut my finger, do I have to worry I’ll be swarmed?”

Blake glanced around us. “First Years have less restraint about feeding. But they’re supposed to keep their instincts in check and feed regularly to prevent a loss of control. That’s part of learning to be a highblood.”

“Funny, I’m not feeling reassured,” I muttered.

“They’re losing control for a reason.” He took a deep breath. “Because of your blood in particular. You’re not just any blightborn.”

I was silent for a moment. “You mean it’s because of my rider blood?”

“Something like that. None of us have known any other riders. But if this is how they smelled...” His voice trailed off. He eyed me, his eyes finally lingering on the blood crusted around my nose, coating my hand, my sleeve.

“Then what?” I demanded. “I’m so delectable none of you can resist me?”

In an instant, a solid weight had slammed into me and my back was pressed up against a wall.

My heart was pounding. I struggled feebly against Blake as his body held me in place but he was hard as a rock and just as stubborn. I tried to lift a knee to kick out at him, but he’d spread my legs, positioning himself between them.

“It’s not a fucking joke.” Blake’s voice was raspy in my ear.

A shiver raced down my spine.

“You need to take this seriously,” he breathed. “Or you won’t last a week here.”

“And you’d care if I didn’t?” I gave a laugh that came out sounding braver than I felt. “Please. Don’t pretend you care if I live or die.”

He didn’t move.

His body was solid. A warm mass pressed against me. If I breathed in, I knew exactly what I’d smell. Green apples. A faint hint of mint. Something underlying it all, like the pages of an old book. I hated that I knew all of that about him. It seemed so... intimate.

Intimacy with Blake Drakharrow was the last thing I wanted.

“What are you doing?” I hissed. “Get off me. Or is this it? You’re going to feed from me now?”

“I’m not...” His voice sounded strangled. Like it was taking everything he had not to do exactly like I’d said.

He stepped away from me and I let out a breath.

“I’m not permitted to feed from you. Our bond isn’t strong enough. And unlike some, I actually believe in honoring the laws of the Bloodmaiden.”

I smirked. “Good.” I started to turn away.

“Our bond isn’t strong enough for me to feed from you...” he added. “Yet.” He sneered. “Let’s go.”

I’d missed the library session, which was arguably the only class I’d really been looking forward to.

I’d been curious to meet Florence’s mother and see what she was like. Hopefully Librarian Shen wouldn’t mind if I came by at another time to learn the ropes.

Not that I thought I’d need a lot of help. The castle in Camelot had a huge library. I hadn’t spent a great deal of time there but I knew the basics.

Blake had taken me straight into enemy territory when he’d brought me to the healer. House Drakharrow had its own separate area in the castle complex. A huge tower housed all of the Drakharrow students. Not just the highbloods, but also the students who had already passed First Year and been selected into House Drakharrow.

I still wasn’t sure how all of that worked, but the thought of actually living in the same tower as Blake next year was disconcerting.

Already I couldn’t wait to get back to the First Year tower where I could retreat to my safe, cozy little room and simply be alone.

After getting me to the Drakharrow infirmary, Blake had disappeared. A surprisingly nice young woman who had said she was a healer’s apprentice had led me to a bed and examined me. Then she’d called one of the official healers over and together they’d consulted on my treatment.

Apparently, House Drakharrow made a point of keeping at least one healer arcanist on staff at all times. Which is why when I left the infirmary, not only was my broken nose set and no longer bleeding, but my ribs were already rapidly healing.

I’d have to return again the next day for a follow-up, but they’d released me in time to get to the headmaster’s Commencement Address.

As I left the infirmary, Blake was nowhere to be seen. Apparently now that I was no longer actively bleeding, I didn’t require an escort.

All of the students in the halls were heading the same way, so I simply followed them.

When we reached the Dragon Court, I drew in my breath.

I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting exactly. But... not this.

A covered walkway formed a square around a central, wide courtyard open to the sky. The walkway was lined with tall, pillared arches that framed the view of the courtyard, where bright green grass was visible.

As I walked out of the cloisters, the courtyard stretched wide, surrounded by towering stone walls covered in creeping vines just beginning to blaze red and gold. Trees lining the sides of the courtyard were lit up in autumn splendor. Fiery red and orange leaves carpeted the stone beneath my feet, crunching as I walked.

But it was what lay in the center of the courtyard that took my breath away.

A massive ring of stone dragons loomed over the gathering crowd like ancient watchers. Each one was at least two stories tall. Their rough, weathered scales caught the warm amber light of the late afternoon sun overhead. Shadows spilled from the immense forms, casting eerie shapes that danced over the faces of the assembled students.

There were four in total, arranged in a perfect circle, their enormous wings unfurled so that the tips of each wing overlapped seamlessly with that of its neighbors.

Each dragon was a different color. One black. One gold. One ivory. And one red.

The black dragon was carved from a deep basalt. Its stone surface was a dark, glossy black that absorbed the light. Its eyes were deep-set and narrow, with an almost menacing intensity. The dragon’s jaws had been carved slightly open, revealing serrated teeth that looked sharp enough to cut.

The gold dragon had been shaped from a lustrous warm marble. Golden veins ran through it, making it shine and glimmer in the light. The dragon’s face was regal and commanding. Its nostrils were delicately flared, its mouth curved into a slight, knowing smirk.

The white dragon was sculpted from alabaster. Its smooth, creamy white surface lent it a soft, ethereal quality. The white dragon’s face bore a tranquil expression. I had an impression of quiet strength and serene beauty.

The red dragon was on the farthest side of the court. Carved from red sandstone, it had the roughest, most unpolished look of the four. The red dragon’s eyes were narrow and sharp. Its nostrils flared aggressively. I swallowed as I looked into its ancient carved face, so full of passion and fire and rage.

A hand touched my shoulder and I jumped.

“Medra, what happened to you?”

I turned to see Florence and Naveen. They were staring at me in shocked horror.

I looked down at myself, remembering. My body might have been rapidly healing but my clothes were still in a sorry state, coated with dirt and blood.

I flushed self-consciously. “Uh, combat class.” I looked around, then leaned in. “I had to see a healer,” I admitted, my voice low.

Florence put a hand to her mouth. “So that’s why you missed the library session.”

I nodded, suddenly tired. “Please tell your mother how sorry I am. Maybe I can catch up another time?”

Florence pushed her spectacles up her nose and nodded. “I’ll show you everything you need to know on our day off. Don’t worry about it for now.”

Naveen was still staring at my clothing. “Who did that to you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said, trying to be nonchalant. “You should see the other girl.”

“She?” Florence’s eyes were wide.

I nodded. “Visha Vaidya.”

Naveen and Florence exchanged glances.

“But you were at her table this morning,” Florence said slowly. “I thought...”