Chapter 24 #2
Medra looped her arm through Blake’s. “He’ll be fine,” she mouthed and grinned. To Blake, she said aloud, “Let’s go, Drakharrow. Florence is going to the library. And we’re going to change.”
Blake was still frowning. “We are?”
“Yes, out of these clothes. Into something more comfortable,” she emphasized.
“But I thought Florence hurt her ankle.” He eyed the bottom of my dress. “Should I carry her?” he asked hesitantly.
Medra rolled her eyes at me. “Look at her. Does she look injured? She’s perfectly fine. Blake, you can’t believe all the gossip you hear.”
I snickered as she pulled him down the hall towards the Avari tower, arguing with him about the best way to remove a corset.
I headed in the opposite direction towards the library.
The halls were dim at this time of night.
Most students were already in their towers.
Belatedly, I realized I was breaking my curfew.
I was a blightborn, and it was past nine o’clock.
I bit my lip, trying to decide if the correct citation was worth breaking a school rule.
I knew precisely where the book was located.
Lord Ryan Bryan’s Botanical Index. West Annex.
Third tier. Stack M72. Shelf 4. Also, all of the librarians knew me.
They wouldn’t think twice if they saw me sneak in.
Besides, they’d be busy, tidying up for the library’s closing at eleven.
I doubted they’d even notice me. I’d sneak in, quiet as a mouse, and go straight to the shelf.
I’d already survived a ball and a broken engagement. Surely I could check a citation and get back to my room without being expelled. After all, Regan was probably still back in the ballroom. And her guards hadn’t exactly seemed committed to doing their jobs.
It all went as planned.At least, on the way to the library.
Finding a secluded table, I wound up poring over the Botanical Index for nearly an hour.
But I dawdled.The library was closing as I left.
I walked back to Avari tower slowly, the excitement of the evening finally catching up with me.
Feeling bone-weary and ready for my bed, I’d only gotten a little ways away from the library when a thin yip shattered the stillness.
I stopped. A growling sound came from up ahead. Nothing like Nyxaris’s. Nothing like anything I recognized.
But that yip? I already knew who that was.
The hairs on my arms stood up. “Neville?” Another yip—this time higher, more frantic.
“Neville, I’m coming,” I shouted.
When I tried to speed up, my satin slippers, well, slipped against the stones.
I paused to yank off the ridiculous little things, then the silk stockings underneath.
I didn’t have a satchel to put them in, I realized.
My gown didn’t even have pockets. Women’s formal clothing was an absolute disgrace.
I threw the slippers to the side of the hallway and began to run, my bare feet slapping against the flagstone floor.
Turning a corner, I looked down the next hall.
There, wedged against the wall, his fur puffed out in all directions like a cat, was an orange-and-red ball of fluff.
Neville was backed in between two ancient suits of armor.
The fluffin’s huge tail swished back and forth like it did when he was upset or scared or angry.
His mouth was open, tiny teeth bared in defiance.
“Neville!”
A tall young man stood over him. There was a blood-and-sword badge affixed to his uniform: one of Regan’s Bloodguards.
He must have gotten the wrong idea. Maybe he’d mistaken the little fluffin for some kind of a pest. Usually Neville scampered through the halls without even being noticed. The fluffin must have drawn attention to himself somehow.
“Come here, Neville!” I called, hoping the fluffin would shoot through the boy’s legs and we could run off.
What is happening? Where are you?
I was headed to my room after finishing in the library, I said, my heart speeding up. But I heard Neville cry out. A highblood boy has him cornered. Neville is scared. I’m trying to get to him.
Stay where you are. I’m coming.
There are no windows here. What can you do?
I’ll tear the roof off if I have to.
I was about to tell him not to worry, not to bother coming. Then Neville bolted, speeding straight towards me.
I opened my arms in relief, preparing to scoop him right up and run.
I’d head straight back to the library so one of the highblood librarians could sort this out for me.
They all knew Neville and his antics. Some of them thought he was a nuisance, sure.
After all, he loved to run through the stacks knocking books off the shelves.
All right, so technically, he was banned from the library.
But in the end, it didn’t matter. Because nothing went according to plan. The highblood moved with vampire speed, snatching Neville up by his scruff and holding him aloft. Neville’s paws batted helplessly against the air, his desperate growls and snarls echoing uselessly off the walls.
“Let him go!” I cried, stepping forward.
The highblood lifted his face and looked at me. I could see he’d been very handsome—until now. His skin was fissured by a web of sootblack veins. His eyes had gone a murky white. Dried blood rimmed his mouth like rust. My stomach crawled. What was this?
“What’s going on?”
I whirled towards the voice as Regan Pansera stepped forward, a pair of red highheeled shoes dangling from one hand. She frowned, looking at the Bloodguard.
“Brocklin, is that you?” She glanced at me. “Isn’t that Blake’s pet?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice almost breaking. “That’s Neville. Please, help me get him back.”
“Is this what you’ve come to, Brocklin, you dolt?
Hurting little animals?” Regan sounded truly disgusted.
“I never authorized this. You’ve gone too far.
You’re out of the Bloodguard, as of tonight.
I want your badge turned over immediately.
” She stretched out her hand as if expecting instant compliance. But Brocklin didn’t move.
“Regan,” I whispered. “Look at him.”
“I am looking,” she complained. “He’s an idiot. I should never have appointed him to the Bloodguard. I can see that now. You don’t—”
She broke off as Brocklin growled, opening his mouth, revealing his fangs.
“You aren’t seriously about to bite that little creature, are you?” Regan shrieked. “Brocklin, I’m warning you.”
I sideeyed her, wondering what exactly she planned to do. “Regan, there’s something wrong with him. I think he’s … infected somehow.”
“Infected?” She wrinkled her nose skeptically. “Highbloods don’t get sick.”
“I know, but look at him,” I insisted.
She studied him. “Shit. You might be right.”
Neville was still squirming in Brocklin’s grasp.
I was terrified the highblood would squeeze too tightly and break the fluffin’s tiny neck.
I let out a choked sob, reaching slowly for the dagger hidden at my thigh—the one Medra and Professor Stonefist had insisted I start carrying, even though I was terrible at handling it.
I suddenly wondered if Regan was armed. Did a highblood girl like her even need to be?
Nearly there, Nyxaris vowed.
Neville’s terrified yap sliced the air again as Brocklin’s grip tightened. The web of veins beneath his skin seemed to crawl, moving, almost as if something were burrowed there.
“Regan,” I sobbed, “we have to do something.”
Nyxaris’s roar thundered in my skull. Hold fast.
A scarlet blur rushed past me as Regan moved first. She crossed the space between us in a heartbeat, her skirts whipping around her legs, making me wonder how much faster she might have moved if she hadn’t been hindered.
She held one shoe in her fist. Angling it downwards, her hand flashed out, the stiletto heel punching through Brocklin’s wrist with a wet, cracking sound.
Bone gave way, and Neville tumbled free.
I dove as he scampered towards me, catching him and cradling him against my chest. “Neville!”
Brocklin howled—his voice sounded neither highblood nor blightborn.
He moved towards Regan, fangs bared, swinging his good arm.
Regan was swearing, the heel of the shoe she’d used dangling uselessly, broken.
She dropped it, hefting the other, and drove the heel into the soft meat beneath Brocklin’s jaw.
Viscous black blood ran out, dripping to the stone. Brocklin wobbled but stayed standing.
“Florence, run!” Regan shouted, never taking her eyes off the other highblood.
I am here. Shield your eyes and get back, Nyxaris commanded.
“Regan!” I screamed. “Get back! Nyxaris is here!”
But it was too late. The ceiling above us exploded in a boom of mortar and stone. I staggered back as ancient beams sheared apart, and slate rained down like hail.
A wedge of night appeared overhead. Nyxaris forced his head through the gap he’d created, ember eyes burning hot, smoke curling from his nostrils.
Brocklin had slowed after Regan’s second attack.
Now he looked up at Nyxaris, clearly confused and enthralled.
Regan seized the opportunity and, screaming like a warrior on a battlefield, she vaulted forward, clutching her stiletto like an ice pick and driving it into the soft hollow where neck met skull.
Brocklin lifted his arms, flailing pathetically, wet black blood spraying.
I gagged as a foul smell wafted towards me.
Nyxaris roared aloud, the sound shaking the hall. Get the girl back. Now.
“Regan!” I shouted.
Heat began to flood the hall. Regan’s eyes widened.
She dove forward, driving both her palms into Brocklin’s chest and hurling him towards the ancient suits of armor.
He slumped against them as she darted away, her skirts twisting beneath her.
The heat became flame as Nyxaris struck, a cone of fire spreading from his jaws, brief but blinding.
As the flames guttered out, Brocklin disappeared.
All that remained was a smoking pile of ash and a heap of melted steel.
Regan pushed herself to her feet. She came towards me, face pale.
“Regan,” I whispered, stepping forward, Neville still clutched in my arms. “You’re hurt.”
Her eyes lifted to mine, wide and suddenly filled with something very familiar: fear. “Brocklin tried to bite me.” There was a tremor in the words.
Whatever this is, it cannot withstand dragon fire, Nyxaris murmured grimly. Yet take no chances. Cleanse her of his blood—and yourself, little fledgling.
But I barely heard him. Regan started to stagger. “Regan,” I gasped, trying to clutch at her with one hand while holding onto Neville with the other.
A black and silver streak rushed past. Kage. He caught Regan before she could hit the floor. Blood coursed from Regan’s scalp. One of the falling stones must have hit her when the ceiling caved in.
I watched Kage press a hand to her slick hair. Then he looked up at me, his face grim. “Shen, report.”
I gulped at the uncustomary command but did as he asked, speaking quickly.
“I was coming back from the library. I heard Neville. He sounded scared. I found Brocklin—” I glanced at the pile of ash.
“I found Brocklin standing over him, threatening him. Regan arrived. And then, Nyxaris arrived—” I tried to catch my breath.
“Right,” Kage said, his voice like ice. Mere hours ago, this man had been my betrothed. Now I hardly recognized him. He was my House Leader. No, more than that—he was a highblood commander ready for war. “We’re heading back. Are you armed?”
“I have a knife strapped to my leg, but I’m holding Neville, so I don’t know how I’d use it,” I babbled.
And you have me, Nyxaris reminded me grimly.
“Nyxaris says he’ll stay with us.”
“It won’t help us if he knocks the ceiling in again. He could kill us all,” Kage said shortly.
I swallowed hard, nodding. “Where are we going?”
“The Avari Tower. We’ll take her to our infirmary.” He frowned, looking around the hall. “Something’s wrong in the castle tonight. I can smell it.” I glanced at him curiously. Of course I knew highbloods had heightened senses, and Brocklin had certainly had … a stench.
Kage glanced up at where Nyxaris was still peering through the ceiling. “Tell the dragon to follow.”
“I think he’d follow even if I didn’t tell him,” I said shakily.
You are correct.
Kage shifted Regan gently against his chest, and we walked away from the rubble.