Chapter 34
That night, I sat in my bed, staring out the window as two dragons hunted over the forest. Vanya, who’d done her best to comfort me with words I’d barely heard, snored softly in the bed a few feet away.
My arms, crossed over my chest, felt every pounding heartbeat beneath my skin.
Deep in my bones, I sensed Myth’s absence in a way I hadn’t when he was away at Rush’s lair.
It was like someone had ripped out one of my ribs and there was no way to stop the bleeding.
In the morning, Fairfax was scheduled to arrive for a meeting with the headmaster.
If the duke had managed to make Myth flame, I’d know by then.
If Myth was killed, I wasn’t sure what that would do to me.
Dragon bonds usually lasted an entire lifetime, considering dragons outlived their bonded human companions for many centuries.
We’d read a few poems written by people who had lost their dragons, and the lines had evoked deep pain.
I didn’t want to know what that felt like in reality.
Depending on what happened with Myth, this could be my last night in this room.
I rolled my head and stared at Vanya’s back.
My best friend. I’d have to leave her too.
The door to our bedroom burst open and clanged against the wall.
I bolted upright in bed, fearing another attempt by Luther to get rid of me.
A silhouette danced in the doorway, his broad-shouldered frame stumbling as he moved into the room.
“Rush?” I threw the covers off and hurried toward him, sparing a glance at Vanya, who, amazingly, was still asleep. As soon as I saw his face, I knew something was wrong. His expression was limp, lifeless, and his eyes wandered without finding my face. “What’s wrong?”
I took his wrists and tried to steady him, but he was like a lumbering giant. His breath smelled of alcohol, and I cringed away.
“Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t look away.”
“You reek.”
A lazy smile spread on his face. “You’re blurry.” His voice slurred as he pushed past me and collapsed face down on my bed.
“Excuse me?” I hissed at him, trying not to wake Vanya.
He rolled and looked up at me. “He…” He took a labored breath. “He knows, Ar.”
“Who knows what?” But I knew who. I shivered. “About you or me or Myth?”
His face scrunched, and only then did I realize he was in pain. I dropped to my knees beside him. Panic bloomed inside me. Rush was sweating. “Where are you hurt?”
He laid one hand over his lower left side. That was the same side that had been bleeding when I’d first laid eyes on him.
“What can I do?” I didn’t see any blood, so perhaps he’d been hit.
Punched? But there were no bruises on his face.
His white shirt was wrinkled as if someone had grabbed it in a fist right in the center.
Tossing a glance at Vanya’s sleeping form, I reached forward and touched Rush’s forehead. He was feverish.
“Father asked lots of questions.” He pushed one shoe off, then the other, the noise of them hitting the floor finally rousing Vanya.
She sat up and spotted Rush Covington in my bed. “Oy! What are you doing here?”
I stood quickly and said, “He’s drunk. Went to the wrong room.”
Vanya cupped a hand over her mouth to stifle laughter. “Drunk idiot.”
I frowned, but I hid the expression by turning back to face Rush. His white shirt was beginning to stick to his skin. There had to be something I could do because standing here staring at him suffering was pure misery.
“I’ll get him some water,” I announced, needing to feel useful.
“Are you just going to let him sleep there?” asked Vanya.
“He’s too heavy to move.”
Vanya tilted her head back and forth. “I bet together we could do it. He can at least walk. He’s not dead.” She emerged from her covers, but at my darting movement, she paused. “What is it?”
“They’re after me,” Rush managed between sharp breaths. I peered at the open door. “Saints,” Rush hissed. “Don’t let them find me.”
Vanya nodded. “Definitely drunk.”
I hurried to the door and closed it quietly.
As I did so, I heard the faint sound of hushed voices and footfalls on the stairs.
I leaned against the door and exhaled slowly.
Rush lifted a finger to his lips. Vanya scowled at him, but she slithered back under her covers.
Then she looked at me and lifted the blankets. “You coming?”
The belltower chimed five a.m. I’d barely slept. The stars still shone outside, but with spring on its way, it would be light soon. I didn’t want to bother going back to sleep at this point, not with Rush right here, in my room.
I shook my head. “I’m awake now.”
“Suit yourself. I’m getting a few more hours.” She rolled over, and after another groan from Rush, she stuffed her pillow on top of her head.
I stared at Rush for several seconds before moving closer, drawn to him like an ant to a picnic. I perched on the edge of the bed and felt his forehead one more time. His face scrunched in pain when he tried to shift.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He patted the bed. “Making room.”
My heart catapulted against my ribs. I stayed right where I was.
“How can I help?” I mouthed, not wanting Vanya to hear.
His fingers reached for his hem and scrunched it up, revealing his cobblestone abs.
I tried to look away, look at anything else, but he was clearly trying to show me something.
My stomach knotted as a strange wound appeared just above his hip.
It was a bruise, yes, but there was also a scar there.
The scar was where the blood had been the day I’d met him.
Whoever had hit him had known exactly where to strike.
One of his fingers traced over the bruise. “See it?”
I bent forward, squinting in the low light.
“See what?” His skin was too close to my face.
I felt his heat and blushed. Then I saw it.
The scar wasn’t just a cut. It was a symbol.
Without thinking, I reached out and traced the symbol, recoiling instantly from touching him.
On his skin was an interlocking S. Or nearly.
It had been etched unskillfully with a blade.
The same symbol I’d seen painted all over bottomside.
“The Serpents,” I muttered, tucking my hand under my leg as I sat back on my heels once more, the memory of his hot skin branded onto my fingertip.
He nodded. “Rival gang.”
My brows shot up at the word rival.
He waved me down, closer, so he could speak in a barely audible whisper.
Heart thundering madly, I lifted my legs onto the bed, stretching out beside him, my arm propped up to hold my head.
I was keenly aware of the thin space between our bodies, like railroad lines, parallel, never meeting.
My mind was flashing like a guttering gaslamp right before it ran out of fuel.
“Are you in a gang?” I mouthed, dumbfounded.
“I’m the son of the High Archivist. Same thing. People see me as a target. The Corzos are scooping up some of the gangs to do their bidding. Looks like the Serpents are working for them now.”
Poking him in the chest with each word, I said between clenched teeth, “What. Happened.”
His exhale made me cough and wave my hand. “Luther,” he said.
“No,” I breathed, hatred surging in my veins.
Rush huffed quietly. “He’s Avencian. It makes sense.”
“He is?”
“Half, I think, but still.” He took a few labored breaths.
“Was it Luther who searched your room?”
He gave a sleepy nod cut short by a pained cringe. “He admitted it.”
“But what was the point? Why did Luther attack you?”
“After my father’s driver dropped me off outside the school, Luther was just coming out of Jackie’s.
He waved me in for another drink. He wanted me to let something slip.
” His words were slow, coming out pained and half-slurred.
“Luther told me I’d been recognized by one of the men in the alley last night, and he wanted to know why I’d gone to rescue you and if your dragon had really flamed, like the rumors said. ”
My muscles stiffened. Rush’s eyes were cloudier than usual and even more difficult to read in the nearly nonexistent moonlight falling in through the window. On his next inhale, he grabbed his side.
“Outside Jackie’s, three men were waiting to jump me. Luther tried to act surprised, but I know he set it up. They were Serpents, and Luther led them to me. He’s working for them.” A mirthless chuckle rumbled from him.
My fingers were so close to Rush’s chest that I could feel his heat. “I hate him,” I admitted, picturing Luther, but realizing that my words were somewhat hypocritical, considering my own brother was a Serpent. Rush didn’t scoff or flinch at my statement.
“Ari, you don’t know how these men operate.” Heavy breathing, getting slower. “They don’t show mercy. They just kill.”
“They left you alive tonight.” Part of my response was a defense of my brother. The Serpents—all of them, including Luther—represented what my brother had become. He wasn’t evil. Making poor choices, perhaps, for a while. He’d lose interest in the empty lies of that life and leave it, eventually.
“No,” he breathed, voice fading. “I’m not sure they meant to. I left them on the ground, alive but regretting their choice.”
A gasp fell from my lips. “How?”
“I had to get to you. If…my dragon was taken, I’d…”
Rush’s eyelids drooped, and his breathing slowed.
For several seconds, I stared at him, unashamedly memorizing the curves of his face up close.
Myth was starting to sound less dangerous than the boy in front of me.
The reasonable side of me said it was foolish to think of him as anything more than a forced ally, someone who would betray me at a moment’s notice to protect his secrets.