Chapter 33
Alistair
I follow Sienna and her band of unusual companions as they avoid the throng of students heading to Hardwicke’s morning lecture and cut a path to the first-year dorms. A few students break off from the collective and drag their feet to the spiral stairwell leading to the headmaster’s office, undoubtedly dropping out after last night’s performance.
Rumors of Professor Aesir’s unorthodox training session circulated the castle until they were confirmed true this morning.
The third-year professor has always had a reputation for being unyielding when it comes to results, and it seems that he holds first-years to the same standards as their seniors.
They’ll either rise to the occasion . . . or drop dead on his doorstep.
I spare them a moment’s attention while the halls empty.
Headmaster Loreander should have never admitted such weak-minded individuals to Heartsflame in the first place.
If anyone is to blame for the academy’s decreased retention rate, it’s the dragon running the show, not its masses.
You can’t turn pathetic lumps of coal into sparkling diamonds no matter how much magic you soak into their bones.
The best any of them will do is mate with the other rejects on their way back to their home territories.
At least then, they stand a chance of surviving the journey across the wilds.
According to my father, the rot has increased its foothold in the valleys, making travel in the lowlands more dangerous than it’s ever been.
Our pack is protected within our mountain range, but we’re also cut off from trade routes if we can’t traverse the paths winding down into the valleys and across the Silverlight Meadows.
There’s only so long we can hold out until nature heals itself.
Slowly but surely, we’re running out of time . . .
But we’re not the only ones whose clocks are winding down.
Sienna’s bedroom door clicks softly shut once everyone has shuffled inside, Callum and Thorn being the last to enter on account of needing an invitation.
I quickly enter my neighboring room to eavesdrop.
Aside from the balcony, the fireplace holds the easiest listening spot.
I crouch among the ashes and close my eyes to listen to whatever speech my mate has prepared.
There’s only one emotion I recognize thrumming along the threads connecting our souls:
Fear.
And that is what breeds poor life decisions.
Holding my breath, I catch snippets of conversation but nothing concrete.
My frustration grows until I remember the Sensing Stones Viserys gifted me before his death, lost somewhere in my luggage.
Leaping across the room, I tear through my belongings until one of the two magical stones appear.
A palm-sized river rock with a set of runes etched across its surface, each one holding a meaning I’ve yet to decipher.
It’s ancient magic, if Viserys’s claims are to be believed, but I’m pretty sure he asked one of our mother’s aides to purchase them from the witches’ mercantile cart during the one summer they made the trek up our mountainside.
Either way—thank you, brother.
The stone remains cool to the touch as I hold it in my palm. Harnessing its power, I enhance my hearing so that I can sit comfortably on my bed and still listen in on Sienna’s heated conversation next door.
“It is best if you keep your distance,” Callum says plainly. “We don’t know the consequences of your proximity.”
“Fuck you,” Revyn snaps, clearly agitated. “You’re just repeating what Hardwicke said because you want Sienna for yourself.”
“I’m concerned for her safety, which is more than I can say for you.”
Sienna’s low growl sends a wave of heat down my spine. I ignore it.
“Revyn isn’t dangerous. Not to me.”
“It’s the rot that’s dangerous,” another female interjects. I tilt my head until her tone becomes clearer. “We don’t know how it operates or why it’s even spreading to begin with.”
Ah, the green witch.
“Survival,” yet another man interjects. The second-year vampire who follows his sister around like a shadow. “It’s doing the same thing we are. Adapting to its environment. Except, it’s actually winning.”
For fuck’s sake, how many people did Sienna invite into her bedroom?
I picture everyone dog-piled on the bed, their limbs intertwined as they bicker, and a frown tugs at my lips. Any of them could make a move on my mate while the others pin her down. It’s easy to overpower someone with increased numbers. They could hurt her or . . . fuck her.
Tossing my head back, I groan. Something about having a true mate dials up my insanity one notch too high. None of them are going to hurt Sienna, and even fewer of them are interested in having sex with her. Well, half of them are interested in having sex with her.
Probably.
Maybe?
I strain to catch heartbeats through the wall and count one two three . . . four, including the erratic, fluttery one furthest away from the group.
Just how many people are in there?
The Sensing Stone tingles in my palm, and my sense of smell suddenly heightens.
Sienna’s delectable aroma of the sweetest drop of honey and the freshest blooming flowers mixes inextricably with something earthen and damp, mingling in a way that’s decidedly intimate.
Then there’s Revyn’s spice—cinnamon and clove with a dash of citrus—that makes my nose crinkle as I try not to sneeze.
Gemma smells like a rose that’s been plucked too soon, and her foster brother barely registers beyond a hint of grave dirt.
The new scent—some kind of cloying spearmint—damn near drowns out the rest once it festers.
Seriously, who the fuck is that?
“Um,” a tiny, mousey voice squeaks. “What, um, do you need me for, again?”
“You,” Sienna says confidently, “are our fail safe.”
I rub my nose as the spearmint plumes even stronger. Gods, this person is insufferable.
“F-f-fail safe? Oh, no. You’ve got the wrong guy. I, um, should head to class—”
Someone slams their hand against the door.
“Marick, buck the fuck up. You have strong magic, but you let it control you when you should be controlling it.” Footsteps steer this ‘Marick’ away from the door, and the armchair wheezes as he’s pushed down to sit.
“How do you expect to find a mate when you freeze everyone you touch?”
The tender male mumbles. “I’m not always cold. You just—make me nervous.” A tiny laugh escapes him. “Sorry.”
“I’ll make you a tonic to dampen your powers,” Gemma says. “Then you won’t have to worry about any mishaps.”
Sienna speaks next, grabbing my full attention. “If we can’t heal Revyn, I’d like you to try and stop the rot from spreading any further. It’s in his blood, so you should be able to slow down its progress. Without killing him.”
For some god-awful reason, Revyn seems on board. “I run hotter than most species, so you’d have to use a lot of juice to freeze me out completely.” He claps mouse-boy’s shoulder. “Don’t sweat it.”
“First, we’ll try other methods. But I want you to be prepared in case we need you, Marick.
That’s why you’re here. And Gemma, if you could research the wilds—find out what the rot is made of and if it’s magical or plant-based or what, that would be great.
I’ll help you with what’s in the library.
But I bet a lot of the texts we’ll need are above first-year clearance, so Thorn can assist with accessing higher level tomes.
I’m not sure how to access third-year books yet, but we’ll steal them if we have to. ”
“Research takes time,” Gemma says gently, “and we don’t know how much Revyn has left.”
Sienna’s heartbeat skips as it ramps up speed. “I know. That’s why option one is for me to heal him myself.”
There’s movement, and I desperately wish that I could see—
My vision lurches. Pain blooms behind my eyes and my ears ring, but I can see the other side of the wall. Everything’s grainy, the image dull, but I watch as Sienna straddles Revyn’s lap on the bed and wraps her arms around his neck. The others stare in silence.
Everyone except Callum.
“You cannot mate with him,” the vampire warns, placing a hand on both their chests to keep them apart.
“We don’t know the consequences of mating with someone tainted; it could spread to you, Sienna, or to the academy grounds if you overload your magic.
Which, by all accounts of mating rituals over the last five centuries, always happens.
Your magic will be unstable during the mating process. ”
“Good thing I’m not a witch, then,” Sienna counters hotly, gripping Callum’s wrist so tightly that his veins show. “There isn’t much magic in me.”
The burn on my neck warms, a direct contrast to her statement. She does hold magic, but it’s not shifter magic. It’s something else.
Thankfully, I’m not the only voice of reason.
“Need I remind you, Wildfire,” Callum hisses, stealing my nickname for Sienna. “You are not merely a shifter, but hybrid. We do not know the source of your power, and it is dangerous to underestimate it.”
“I think I can decide what to do with my own body!”
Their eyes meet, but neither of them backs down.
Callum closes what little distance lies between him and Sienna, speaking so softly that even I can barely hear him.
“Do not let your love for Revyn blind you. Mating with him right now does not guarantee that you will heal him. It could damn you both to a few meager days of little more than decay tainting your blood as your organs rot from the inside.”
Thorn shudders, the only one of the others to hear Callum’s words.
Interesting reaction for someone who’s already dead. What’s a little decay to a vampire?
“I can heal him,” Sienna insists, holding Callum’s ruby gaze. “Mates heal each other.”