Chapter 16 #2
“The Emberwatch had their consent to do what they did. It was done for a reason.”
“What possible reason could those dragons have had for allowing that to happen?”
“We all come to a place of sacrifice in our lives one way or another. You can’t tell me there aren’t things you’d willing give your life—your freedom—to save.”
I thought of Pendragon. “Fine, maybe you’re right. So what were they saving?”
“All of us,” he said simply. “Everything. They were holding back the Veil.”
“The Veil? What’s that?”
Rodriguez got to his feet. He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that lined the wall next to his desk, then pulled one out and tossed it onto the desk. The book slid to a halt in front of me.
I leaned forward, scanning the title. “Chronicles of Sangratha: An Official History.” I looked up. “It’s a textbook. What’s this got to do with anything?”
“All highbloods and blightborn learn the official history. The Great Famine. The Blight of Shadows. The Dragon Cataclysm.”
I shrugged. “Sure. I remember the basics.”
“No official history is ever true. Perhaps you’ve learned that already.”
I thought of my uncle’s journal I’d found in the Black Keep. “So, what part of this isn’t true? That the highbloods weren’t the saviors of the blightborn? I figured that out a while back. I think a lot of us did.”
Rodriguez grimaced. “Not just that. Think back on the Cataclysm.”
“A time of monstrous creatures. The dragons arose. Dark forces threatened Sangratha. The highbloods and the dragon riders forged an alliance and vanquished them.”
“Right. But where did they come from in the first place?” Rodriguez had shoved his hands into his pockets and now was pacing back and forth, in full-on professor mode.
“Uh …” I tried to think.
“Have you ever been to the borders of Sangratha?”
“I’ve been to the coast before, sure.” Sangratha was a massive island, surrounded by ocean waters. A few scattered islands lay close to shore. Past that, there was nothing.
“No.” Rodriguez took a deep breath. “To the true borders of the Thralldom. You can’t say yes, no one can. Except maybe your brother.”
“Marcus? What do you mean?” My heart sped up.
“Haven’t you even wondered where he’s gone?”
“I’ve been a little self-absorbed the last few weeks,” I admitted. “Can you blame me?”
“I suppose not.” He sat back down in the desk chair. “Sangratha isn’t the only world. There are many. But one in particular used to connect to ours.”
I was stunned but tried to hide it. “Used to? And I suppose the dark creatures came from there? The dragons?”
“The creatures?” He shrugged. “Perhaps. The riders? Almost certainly.”
I stared. “The riders? What the hell are you talking about?”
Rodriguez looked satisfied. “Ah, I knew that would get your attention.”
“You always had my attention,” I snapped. “I came here looking for answers. As usual, you’re full of the ones I didn’t want.” The list of things Rodriguez knew that I didn’t want to suddenly seemed much larger.
“Your problem is bad, Blake. But it’s not the only problem. We have a bigger one than you being unable to shift on command.”
“It’s more than that, Rodriguez,” I almost shouted. “I fucking killed someone today.”
“Who?”
“Does that really matter? A blightborn. They were threatening Pendragon. He’d … hurt her.”
Rodriguez relaxed slightly. “Justified homicide.”
“Sure, this time. But next?”
“Finally growing a conscience, are we? You’ve killed before, Blake. You didn’t seem to care so much then.”
“That was different.” I clenched my jaw painfully. The difference was I’d known exactly what I was doing. But this time? It was like my body had been taken over. Like thrallweave … but worse. Because the monster was inside me. If Kage was to be believed, he was me.
“There’s no easy solution for your dilemma,” Rodriguez said, sounding impatient. “Time and practice.”
“I’ve had time. I’ve tried to practice. It’s not fucking working,” I hissed. “Tell me something I don’t already know. Teach me, dammit. Otherwise, I could shift in class one day and do a little more damage than to just a single blightborn.”
He looked at me. “Is it really that bad?”
“It’s bad. Really bad.” I rubbed my face.
“I want to talk about Marcus. I want to learn about this Veil. I mean, I don’t want to.
It sounds like an absolute fucking mess.
But I can’t help you with the world’s big problems if I can’t even control my own body and keep from …
” I took a deep breath “ … from killing my own consort by accident.”
Rodriguez’s expression turned serious. “Understood.” He looked towards his bookshelf. “But the only answer I have is one you won’t like.”
“Try me.” I suddenly realized Rodriguez’s expression was a little too somber. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” He was trying to sound innocent, but I fucking knew better.
“Like I’m about to fucking die, Rodriguez.” He was quiet far too long, and so then I knew. “Because I am?” I choked out. “I’m dying?” He looked away. “You knew as soon as I walked in.”
He shook his head. “Not that soon. Suspected. But if it’s as bad as you describe …”
“There’s another being inside of me. And he’s a fucking animal who wants to kill everyone. So yeah, it’s bad.”
Rodriguez sighed. “What you’ve described sounds like soul-splitting.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s fairly self-explanatory,” he agreed.
“So, what do I do? How do I fix it?”
He stood up again, walked across the room, and reached for a book high up on the shelf.
Even from where I sat, I could tell it was ancient, the black leather cover cracking with age.
Yet the tome was a beautiful one—embossed with silver, a serpentine dragon embedded in the center.
Rodriguez studied the book, looking faintly amused.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded. “Does that book have the answers or not?”
“Answers? Many. To your problem? It might have one. Will you like it? Decidedly not.”
“Just give me the fucking book, Rodriguez,” I snapped.
He held it out. The Dark Art of Eternal Bonds, I read, as I grabbed the old book.
“Listen, Blake,” Rodriguez started to say, just as the door swung open.
“Visha,” I exclaimed as my Second walked in. She looked just as surprised to see me as I was to see her.
I stared. Her short platinum-blond hair was swept back in a messy twist. She was dressed to kill—wearing a sleek crimson sleeveless corset-top paired with tight black trousers.
My brain stalled for a second, then finally caught up. “Visha,” I managed to squawk. I looked behind me at Rodriguez. He had a sheepish look on his face.
The instructor cleared his throat. “We’ll talk more later.” His eyes flicked to the clock like he’d lost track of the time. “Miss Vaidya, I assume you’re here to talk about your essay?”
I blinked at him. “You’re kicking me out? Now?”
Visha stepped in front of me without looking me in the eye. “Absolutely, Professor. I’d love to have you look over my thesis.”
“Really? You’re not carrying any notes,” I pointed out.
Visha turned, staring down her nose at me coolly. But her face looked a little flushed. She tapped the side of her head. “Don’t need notes. It’s all up here.”
Rodriguez pinched the bridge of his nose. “Blake, you have the book. Take it and go before I feel the urge to pull out another bottle.”
Behind me, the door clicked shut. I stumbled out into the hall-way, clutching the book as if it could do more than save me—as if it might be able to block out the mental images I was absolutely, definitely not having.