Chapter 14 #3
“You misheard,” Medra said promptly. “But that’s no surprise.
You were hanging back like a coward. You didn’t give a damn about the students turning into a mob right in the hallway.
You could have defused the situation. But when that student tried to strangle me?
You didn’t do a thing about it. Aren’t the teachers here supposed to at least pretend to give a shit about what happens to us?
” She was being purposely melodramatic, trying to get Viktor’s attention, trying to keep it off me.
I knew that. I also knew it wasn’t working.
Viktor paced towards me, his boots soundless. “There’s one way to easily clear the matter up,” he said lightly as his shadow fell over me, blocking the light from the window.
I forced myself to lift my chin and look at him. To look into those horrible red eyes.
“What did you say this girl’s name was?” Viktor said carelessly, waving his hand in Hassan’s direction.
“Shen. Florence Shen. Her mother is a librarian here,” Hassan quickly replied. “They’ve both been friends with the rider from the very start.”
She made it sound as if that was some kind of a crime. I could feel my chin wobble slightly. Why had she brought my mother into this? The horrid woman.
“Miss Shen,” Viktor said, his voice deceptively soft, “why don’t you tell us the truth—is the professor correct, or did she mishear you?” He laughed lightly, as if it made no sense to him. “It does seem rather strange for you to claim the dragon belongs to you.”
I took a deep breath. Was I really going to do this? I had to. “She’s lying,” I said, trying to hold my voice steady. “I never said he was mine. That would be silly, just as you say. I’m no dragon rider. Just look at me.”
Viktor did just that, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. I held still. I was a mouse, he was a hawk: One wrong move and I’d be his next meal. I was defenseless. Vulnerable. I’d always known that. I was blightborn. But never had I felt it quite like this.
Viktor’s eyes lingered on my face. I tried not to flinch. “Miss Shen,” he murmured. “You have quite lovely ears.”
I blinked. “Th-thank you, Lord Drakharrow.”
“They have such fine points to them. Very few people have such a distinctive shape of ears. Have you ever noticed?”
I couldn’t help it, my hands shot up, touching my ears. My fingers fumbled around their edges. Desperately, I wanted to look at Medra. I forced myself not to.
“Her ears are the same as they’ve always been,” Medra said. I could tell she was trying to sound bored. “They’ve looked precisely like this ever since I met Florence.” But there was a panicked look in her eyes.
Viktor smiled thinly. “Pardon me if I don’t consider you a reliable source of information any longer, Miss Pendragon.”
I forced myself to lower my hands, but it was too late.
My face must have given away everything I was feeling.
Because when I raised my hands to touch the tips of my ears, I’d felt it—a sharpness that hadn’t been there before.
They’d changed. Were changing. Angling into points like Medra’s.
I’d been hiding in my mother’s apartment for weeks; I hadn’t even been looking at my ears.
I hadn’t been attending classes regularly enough for anyone to tell me about them either.
Now I realized hiding had been pointless.
Lying had been pointless. The truth was literally being written onto my body.
How long before they looked exactly the same as Medra’s?
What else about me would change? I touched a finger to my hair without thinking, and Viktor’s smile widened.
“Miss Shen is lying,” Professor Hassan spoke up. “Of course the girl would lie.”
“Of course the girl would,” Viktor murmured. “Fortunately, there’s a very easy way to find out the truth.” He smiled at me. There was no kindness to that smile.
Suddenly, claws were stabbing into my mind.
Raking through my thoughts. My knees buckled, and I fell to the ground, gasping and clutching at my head.
The pain was indescribable. I’d led a fairly sheltered life, I’d never been badly injured, never been in a real fight.
I’d had headaches, a toothache once or twice.
This put every pain I’d ever felt together in one bundle of agony and then put all of that to shame.
It was as if my mind was being peeled open, flayed while I was still alive.
As if from a distance, I could hear someone screaming.
It was me.
Farther off still, I could hear voices. Medra shouting. Hassan yelling something back. The scrape of a chair. But everything was very far off, muffled under the misery coming from my skull. Viktor was in my head. He was in my head, and he was tearing things apart.
Nyxaris, I thought desperately—even though I knew I shouldn’t.
The highblood’s claws sharpened, pouncing upon the thought.
My hands covered my face, trying futilely to get the pain to stop.
Let me in, girl, Viktor’s voice called in my mind. I could feel his voice—permeated with cruelty and rot. There’s no sense in hiding. There’s nowhere to go. I hold your mind in the palm of my hand. I will find the answers I seek. Give them to me now and perhaps you’ll come out of this whole.
I screamed aloud.
“Stop!” Male. Loud, authoritative. Familiar. “Stop this at once, Lord Drakharrow. This girl is under my protection.”
I couldn’t open my eyes. Couldn’t move.
Viktor was rifling through my thoughts. Cherished memories of my mother.
Books I’d recently read. The idea I had for my next essay.
He threw them aside one by one, searching deeper, looking for things I didn’t wish to share—shouldn’t have to share.
Things that were mine. Private parts of me.
He dug deeper, claws scraping through the layers.
My screaming intensified with the search.
The day I’d met Medra.
The day Naveen had died.
This boy cared for you, did he? Such a pity he died. But he was a weakling, Florence. Bloodwing purges the weak. You’re still standing, though. Interesting. Very interesting.
This was nothing like hearing Nyxaris—this was a violation, a nightmare. Viktor’s voice in my mind left a trail of decay and gore behind. I felt filthy, soiled by his touch.
“She’s Avari! She’s my house,” Kage thundered from somewhere nearby. “You have no right to do this. Let her go!”
Viktor didn’t answer, not aloud, anyhow.
But he didn’t let go. The pain only intensified.
I tasted blood in my mouth. Then suddenly the room was full of wind and glass.
I heard screaming—from someone else this time.
Hazily, I forced my eyes open, feeling wetness on my cheeks, the taste of iron still in my mouth.
The window had burst open. Outside the office window, a huge shape loomed, dark against the pale blue sky.
Nyxaris.
Fledgling. The word rumbled through me, filling me with warmth and hope.
You’re here, I thought back. How did you know where I was?
In future, fledgling, you will answer me when I make inquiry of you. The voice was cold with anger, yet I wasn’t afraid. I knew instinctively that his anger was not directed at me.
Y-yes. I will. I’m sorry.
You spoke of the bond between us, he observed. That is why they have brought you here.
I nodded weakly through our connection. Unable to even form words.
They would have learned of it sooner or later. Nyxaris sounded resigned.
The room spun with each flap of his wings.
Pieces of broken glass littered the floor.
Hassan crawled through the wreckage, blood running down her face.
I watched as she reached Regan’s desk and scuttled beneath it.
Regan stood against one wall, her face pale but composed, her hands pressed flat to the stone.
Medra and Kage stood by the wall nearest the window, their arms still lifted to shield themselves from the burst of glass.
Medra’s eyes were on me. She looked afraid for me.
Nyxaris hovered just beyond the ruined frame. His massive wings churned the air, obsidian scales gleaming. His amber eyes fixed on me. This highblood has threatened you? He has entered your mind, searching for signs of me?
I nodded. The jerk of my head caused a residual wave of pain to wash over me, and I moaned.
Viktor stood nearby. He held very still, his red eyes moving—first to me, then Nyxaris, then back again. He must have known we were talking about him. But all I cared about at that moment was that he was gone, his claws retracted from my mind.
I know this man, Nyxaris snarled. We have met before.
Viktor? I stared at the dragon stupidly. You know him? Yes, I suppose you would have encountered him at the Tribunal and when they tested you and Medra.
No. Nyxaris’s voice was grim. Long before that. Many years ago, I remember. Look at his face. He knows me, too.
I glanced at Viktor cautiously, wondering if it were true. His face was tight, his body tense—as if he were contemplating his next move.
Move to the door, Nyxaris commanded, his voice in my head so much gentler than Viktor’s had been. Then, in a completely different voice—one I had never heard him use before—I heard him say I see you, you highblood bastard. I see you seeing me, and I know you. I know your true name.
Beside me,Viktor … shifted. His bearing changed subtly, his body stiffening. I blinked at him, then looked around.The door had been left ajar in Hassan’s haste to enter. It was only a few feet behind me.
Move to the door now, Nyxaris demanded.
What are you going to do? I whispered back, fear creeping up my spine.
I’ll do what dragons do, he answered, his voice surprisingly calm.
And what’s that?
Reign fire and devastation down upon all those who threaten you and stand between us.
A chill went through me. Not everyone. Not Medra.
She is no longer my rider, he answered calmly. You are.
She was your rider. She saved me.