CHAPTER 11 - MEDRA
My head was pounding from the disaster that had been my history class with Professor Hassan. All I wanted was a steaming mug of kava to wake me up. The thought of the strong, black liquid—maybe with a hefty teaspoon of sugar or two—sent a pang of longing through me. I had to start researching dragon history in the library that very night and kava might be the only thing that would keep me going.
I’d just rounded a corner on my way to the refectory, already picturing the way the mug would feel in my hands, when a group of students suddenly blocked my path.
I blinked slowly. They were all blightborn. Their stiff postures and narrowed eyes struck me as unusual. Something was wrong.
“What’s happened?” I said immediately. “What’s wrong?”
When none of them answered, I shrugged and moved to step around them.
But one of the students moved to block me. A tall burly boy with dark brown hair that curled over his ears and a small scar that stood out against his pale cheek. His broad shoulders and clenched fists gave me pause. He looked as if he were ready for a fight.
“Excuse me,” I said cautiously. “Is something wrong? Are you all right?”
“All right? You’ve got some bloody nerve asking that,” he said, his voice low.
I looked at the other students, unsure what to make of this boy’s hostility or theirs.
“What are you talking about?” I asked as gently as I could, genuinely confused.
One of the other students standing behind him, a pretty girl with tightly braided black hair, stepped forward, her lips twisting in a sneer. “You really don’t know?”
I was starting to get annoyed. “No. But perhaps you could enlighten me. Either that, or please get out of my way.”
The tall boy took a step closer. Too close for comfort. “What about the fact that you woke a dragon? A damned dragon. For them!”
I froze. “For them?”
“The highbloods,” he snapped. He looked around nervously as if making sure none were around. He lowered his voice a little but kept going. “The same ones who used dragons to crush anyone who dared to stand up against them. The same ones who kept our people in chains. Now you’ve gone and brought their ultimate weapon back.” He shook his head as he looked down at me in disgust. “You’re a traitor.”
The other students nodded in agreement, clearly just as resentful towards me as the boy was.
What was going on here? After what I’d learned last year, I hadn’t thought such rebellious talk was even possible. After that night in the sanctum, after I’d witnessed the ritual, I’d made Blake confess that the blightborn were being manipulated. Kept compliant by an insidious form of highblood magic, similar to thrallweave.
Part of me was kind of impressed. These blightborn students had spirit and I admired that. But they were also going to get themselves killed if they weren’t careful.
“Look,” I said, keeping my voice low and trying to be patient. “You have to be careful with what you say or you’re going to get yourselves into trouble.”
“Is that so?” the boy sneered.
“Yes, look at where you are,” I hissed. “Besides, I can assure you, Nyxaris doesn’t belong to the highbloods.”
“Doesn’t he?” the girl with braids scoffed. “They’ll make sure he does soon. And then how many of us will he kill with you on his back? You’ll have blightborn blood on your hands in no time. Unless someone stops you before it's too late.”
I stared at her, reeling at the implications of what she’d just said. Did I really have to fear my own people now? I was half-fae, but I’d always felt aligned with the blightborn. There were no fae in this world and I was half-mortal after all.
I held up my hands in an effort to keep the peace. “I understand why you’re upset, but you have to believe me. I don’t want to hurt any blightborn and I have no intention of doing so.”
The burly boy cut me off with a harsh laugh. He was starting to get on my nerves. “Your intentions don’t mean a thing. You’ve just made it easier for them to keep us under their boots.”
I opened my mouth to respond but I could see the tensions in the group were rising fast. The blightborn students’ faces were tense with anger and fear.
“End her,” I heard one student mutter. I could see some were clenching and unclenching their fists, shifting on their feet. They were nervous and tense and looking for some sort of solution. They wanted their fear to go away.
They wanted me to go away. I wondered just how far they were ready to go to make that happen.
“What’s going on here?”
The voice came from behind me, calm but commanding. Every blightborn head snapped towards the sound.
I turned to see Kage Tanaka standing in the hallway. His coal-dark eyes swept over the group, taking in every detail.
He seemed as composed as always. But there was something about the deliberate stillness of his stance that made it clear he didn’t need to raise his voice or make a single threat to command respect. Or fear.
“Fuck,” I heard the burly boy mutter. His gaze dropped to the floor.
The other blightborn students seemed to be deflating. They shuffled backwards awkwardly. Only the tall burly boy and the girl with braids remained, their stances still defiant even under Kage’s gaze.
“This doesn’t concern you, Tanaka,” the tall boy said suddenly, surprising me with his boldness.
Kage raised an eyebrow and came slowly to stand by my side. His beautiful lips curved in a humorless smile. “Really? Because it looks to me as if you’re threatening the rider. As House Avari has a stake in Miss Pendragon’s safety and that of her dragon, I think what you’re doing concerns me quite a bit.”
The girl with the braids stepped forward, her voice shaking a little but still stubborn. “This is a blightborn matter.”
“Wrong,” Kage snapped. His gaze lingered on the girl then shifted to the others. “Some of you are in my house, aren’t you? That makes your behavior my responsibility. And I don’t tolerate insubordination.”
Some of the students looked as if they wanted to bolt. I had no doubt Kage would remember every face.
“Please,” I said, my voice low. “Let’s diffuse the situation, not escalate it.”
Kage glanced at me. Then he gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“You don’t understand what it’s like for us,” the broad-shouldered boy burst out. “You don’t understand what this means for blightborn.” He pointed a finger at me. “She’s a traitor to her own kind.”
“Your kind?” Kage sniffed. “The rider’s always been one of a kind, if you ask me. But you’re right. Perhaps I don’t understand. But here’s what you don’t understand. If you attack Miss Pendragon, if you so much as touch her, there will be consequences that you won’t walk away from. Do you understand me?”
The boy muttered something under his breath, then nodded stiffly.
Kage looked over the group, his expression stone cold. “Leave. All of you. If I see anything like this again, you won’t be dealing with just me next time. This sort of thing won’t be tolerated in your houses—or at Bloodwing. Move along.”
The girl with the braids was the first to turn and hurry away. The others followed her lead, some with nervous glances back at Kage.
The tall, burly boy was the last to leave, his face still a mask of resentment.
Kage watched them go, then turned to me. “I’ve made a note of their houses. I’ll report the incident to the other House Leaders. They’ll be punished. Have no doubt about that.”
“No,” I said quickly, putting a hand on his arm. “No. Please don’t do that. I don’t want them punished.”
He looked down at me, surprise in his eyes.
“I appreciate the gesture, but you didn’t have to do that,” I said.
“Yes, I did,” he said evenly. “And you’re welcome.”
I grimaced. “I suppose I owe you a few ‘thank-yous’ at this point.”
“Well, who’s keeping track?” He grinned suddenly and I almost gasped. His face was transformed. I’d noticed Kage rarely smiled, and when he did it was a calm smile, carefully controlled. Now he looked almost mischievous.
He took a step closer towards me, his presence commanding, yes, but not overwhelming or threatening. Unlike Blake, who seemed to need to dominate every space he entered with the sheer force of his will, Kage’s strength lay in the quiet control he radiated.
He tilted his head, studying me. “Why didn’t you want them punished? You’d be well within your rights to demand it.”
I shrugged awkwardly. “Because they’re scared. And they’re not wrong, are they? I don’t know all of the details of dragon history, but clearly their parents or grandparents must have told them something and it wasn’t good. The highbloods haven’t exactly given them a reason to feel truly safe either, have they?”
Kage’s expression remained neutral, but I caught a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “You’re an interesting contradiction, aren’t you, Medra Pendragon?”
“What do you mean?” I asked warily.
He moved and the torchlight hit his face, illuminating the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the perfect symmetry of his handsome face, the distinct contrast between his pale highblood hair and his obsidian eyes. I had to admit, Kage Tanaka was a stunning man. Different from Blake, yes. No less attractive in his own way.
“You speak as if you’re one of them,” he observed, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. “And yet, you’re not. You’re the rider of a dragon. The only one in all of Sangratha. You’re not like them. You’re not like me. You’re not like anyone.”
I stiffened. “Maybe I carry parts of all of you. Why does there need to be such a division between us, anyhow?”
Kage shrugged. “I didn’t write the rules. But you and I both know those with power always rise to the top.” His expression became more contemplative. “You should be more careful. You have no idea what your dragon’s awakening has set in motion.”
I frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
His eyes scanned mine, as if deciding how much to share. “My grandmother has a theory. She believes the essence of magic in the world has shifted with Nyxaris’s awakening. It began the moment he stirred.”
I tried to process his words. “Shifted how?”
He gestured to the now-empty hallway. “You saw what they were like just now.”
“You mean that shouldn’t have been possible?” I guessed, taking a risk. “Not with the compliance magic the highbloods use to control blightborn. To keep them in line.”
He nodded. “There are many justifications for its use. Some say it makes the blightborn happier, more content with their lives.”
I opened my mouth to heatedly argue the point, but he held up his hand.
“I’m not saying it does,” he said. “But something has certainly changed.” He glanced around. “You’ve seen it for yourself. The students just now, they’re proof of it.”
I thought of the rebellious looks in the students’ eyes when they’d confronted me. The raw anger. Their fearlessness. It was dangerous—and not just to me. To themselves. “So what happens next? Why would this be happening just because of Nyxaris?”
Kage shrugged, the movement fluid and full of his customary grace. “When highbloods had dragons, there was no need for compliance spells. The fear the dragons inspired was more than enough. But...”
“But what?”
He hesitated. “Those were more ruthless times. Dragons and highbloods fed freely—on anything they desired.”
My heart sped up. Dragons? “That’s horrible.”
“Horrible, yes. But effective. And now? The world remembers. The magic remembers. The balance is shifting.”
“You think things will go back to the way they were?” I asked, horrified.
“I don’t think,” Kage said, his voice steady. “I know. Something has changed. The world is adjusting to your dragon’s presence.”
I felt a chill. “What does that mean?”
He looked at me. “You know what it means.”
If the highbloods couldn’t count on magic to control the blightborn. If they only had one dragon—and one they couldn’t count on, at that. If the blightborn decided to rise up, to rebel against their place in the order of things, violence would follow. And that would be disastrous for the blightborn population especially.
Kage’s expression was almost sympathetic. “You’re more dangerous than you know. To everyone. Highbloods, blightborn, even yourself.” He straightened. “But you don’t have to figure it all out alone.” His lips curved into a slow, inviting smile.
I swallowed hard. “I don’t?”
“Of course, that all depends.”
“On what?”
“On trust. We both have our secrets, don’t we, Medra? Truth is earned.”
For a moment, neither of us moved. The space between us seemed to fill with an invisible charge. This wasn’t the raw, tumultuous heat I’d sometimes felt around Blake. Dangerous and explosive. This was different. More controlled, but no less intense. There was a push-and-pull between Kage and I, a question that always seemed to hang in the air between us. Waiting for an answer neither of us seemed ready to give.
Finally, Kage stepped back, breaking the spell. “You should go and get your kava before the refectory runs out for the day. You need your strength.”
“Kage,” I called after him as he turned to leave.
He paused, throwing a glance over his shoulder.
“What if your grandmother is right? What if the compliance magic keeps weakening?”
His expression darkened. “Then I guess we’ll all have to decide who we want to be in that new world. And who we want to stand with us.”
Before I could reply to that, he was gone, his long strides carrying him away down the hall.
I stared after him, my thoughts in a tangled knot. It took me a moment to realize he’d known where I was going. Knew I wanted kava. He’d been watching me. For how long? And why? What other details about me had he figured out?
Kage wasn’t like Blake. He was even more of an enigma. He didn’t demand my obedience. He offered something else. Something more tantalizing, more dangerous. Choice.
And the thing that both thrilled and unsettled me was that I suddenly wasn’t sure what choice I wanted to make.