Page 29

“You’ve just entered another ballgame, North. Dragon riders are ruthless. You’ve missed a lot of combat classes. Most first-years should have earned a sword by now. If anyone duels you, you’re dead within seconds.”

I looped my arm with his. “Well, it’s a good thing I have an awesome friend who will bring me up to speed on everything I’ve missed.” I cocked my head, giving him the widest doe eyes I could muster, and it seemed to work. “And you promised to train me.”

“You’re lucky you fascinate me,” he said with a grin. His finger twirled my neval streak. “Not many beautiful riders these days.” We stopped before the warding classroom. His eyes shifted to my lips—or was it mine on his?

Damien was unlike Archer—his eyes held a darker intensity, which I hadn’t thought possible. Archer was the Serpent of Shadows, yet somehow, his brother seemed to inherit all his perfect leftovers.

He huffed as Myla cleared her throat, brushing past us. “She’s sitting with me today, dragon rider.”

Damien smirked. “She’s all yours.”

I grinned, shaking my head before following behind her.

Damien sat across the room with the second-years. I slipped into a seat beside Myla and Malachi. Oddly, Antonia and Alaric were in our row, with Jace strategically placed between them for reasons that were painfully obvious.

Malachi smacked the warding book closed in front of me. “I thought you died last night. A warning is appreciated when you decide to stay out all night after telling me you needed daggers,” she seethed. “I nearly sent every guard to search for you. ”

I uncurled my palm to show her the flame relic. “Bad news, I lost your dagger, but the good news is I got my quell.”

Malachi smacked my shoulder, studying the swirled mark I’d shown her. “A fire quell?”

I held my grin back. “A lot happened last night.”

Myla widened her eyes. “Between you and Damien? I saw you two in the halls.”

Antonia straightened her posture, obviously listening to us. “No, not that. Stop talking. I have missed too many classes. I will explain everything later.”

Professor Cain stepped into the classroom and instantly perked up. “I sense a new quell in the room,” he said.

Malachi twirled her finger, and a gust of wind raised my hand unwillingly. Every eye shifted toward me.

I stirred for a second, clearing my throat. “Um, yes, sir. I found my quell yesterday.”

Cain motioned for me to step forward. Damien held his grin on me as I walked toward the center of the class.

“Open your palm, dear.” Cain motioned at my hands, his gaze tight on the swirled relic.

“A fire quell can become destructive easily in warding, making the shield deadly. But this relic is antecedent, meaning this is not your natural power, yet a given one from a fallen rider.” Cain stepped back, knocking into the table and shattering a glass vial. “Oh, dear—”

I felt everyone’s eyes burning into me as I stared at Professor Cain. “What is it?” I asked.

“Blanche, you may sit down. Herring can take over.”

His reaction startled me.

Myla squeezed my elbow as I retook my seat. “We are quite the opposite, I suppose. You’re fire, and I am ice.”

“I guess we are.” My voice was low, barely a whisper. “It doesn’t matter to me. ”

Malachi rose, stepping toward the center of the class. She opened her palm, and a flurry of wind brewed from within, whirling around until nearly every paper in the class flew and fluttered like a storm was silenced to four walls.

“Someone test my shield,” she yelled over the prowling winds, nearly throwing students to the sides.

I opened my palm, igniting a small flame, but Damien beat me to it. Tiny glass shards rose from his hands. He flicked his wrist at her shield, and the fragments ricocheted off, falling to the ground in a thousand pieces.

“Excellent, Lynch. You’ve been practicing. Now, a glass shield is not something I would want to step inside.” His core chuckled loudly. “No one wants to be pulling out shards from their face for a month.”

Antonia raised her hand. “I thought antecedent quells were rare.”

Professor Cain straightened his crooked glasses back on his nose.

“There are three types of quells one can gain: your natural quell, which you are born with, and a vested quell, which is the power your enigma gives you. Normally, after years of bond. An antecedent quell is passed on after a previous rider passes, and the enigma consumes that power. That power may be decades old. Most only obtain their natural quell. But an antecedent quell can be passed on through hundreds of bonds.”

Antonia crinkled her nose. “Is it normal for a Winter to gain a fire quell?” She flattened her hand. “Who’s to say that I won’t strike daylight from my palm in a year from now,” she hissed.

Cain pressed his lips together. “I believe the enigma chooses where you will reign or live. Now, that is only speculation.”

I glanced toward Malachi as we practiced our shields. “Should I be worried about dragon training? ”

“Monty and Archer are great teachers. But you are behind.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, puckered lips smacking. “I’m sure everyone will play nice today.”

“Play nice?”

Noon struck, and the clock’s chime sent the class scattering. I lingered behind, my steps faltering as Malachi glanced over her shoulder, sensing my hesitation. She paused, but I waved her off.

Professor Cain bent to sweep up the shattered glass, his movements stiff and distracted. I crouched to help, tossing a jagged shard into the bin. “Professor,” I began, my voice low. “Earlier, you felt… something in me. Can I ask what it was?”

Cain froze mid-motion, his hand gripping the broom tightly. “Severyn, I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, though his eyes betrayed unease.

A sting ran through my hand as a shard nicked my finger. I winced, blood welling at the cut. Meeting his gaze, I pressed, “I know what I saw, sir. You can sense quells, can’t you?”

He glanced over his shoulder, his face paling. “Death,” he murmured, the word heavy and sharp. “I felt death inside you.”

The air seemed to thin, and an icy shiver raced down my spine. My steps faltered as I backed away, nearly knocking another vial from the table. “I’ll… see you tomorrow,” I managed, my words tumbling over each other as I slipped from the room.

He called after me, but I was nearly halfway down the hallway.

Death. I choked my next few breaths of air down, using the stone columns to keep me upright.

I needed to focus on combat next. I couldn’t afford to be dizzy.

Not when nearly my entire class had earned a sword.

Cain sensed quells. Had he felt that bond between me and Naraic and that forbidden cure that rose him from his grave?

My spine groaned against the pillar, eyes glazed on the narrow hall leading to the foyer.

I’d willed death, life. I wasn’t sure. A few students wearing silken robes passed me.

I was nameless, another spectator gasping for breath.

I listened to the deep flutters of wings echoing through the stained-glass windows.

Spring heaved through, collecting me as I found my senses, one by one.

I pushed open those iron doors and headed toward combat.

My stomach whirred with heat as I met up with Malachi leaning against the railing outside. She shoved a quill inside her riding leathers, her fingers stained with ink smudges.

“What were you writing?” I asked.

She pursed her lips, her eyes softening. “Don’t be mad, but I sent a letter to your mother. Knox gave me your address. I wanted her to know Astoria was in good hands.” There was another letter behind the one she wrote—the same golden parchment we received during the sanity trial.

I lifted a brow. “I’m not upset. She’d love to know her dragon went to someone with a kind heart.” I glanced at the golden letter. “Is that the trial letter we received?”

She half-hugged my waist as we walked to combat together. “Oh, yeah,” she said, an awkward breath tumbling past her lips. “Tell me what your mother is like?”

And I struggled with what to say. Who was Fallon?

But I knew the woman who raised me, and I told Malachi all about her.

I told her how my mother lost her sight, knitted all our clothes by hand, and made the best potato and beet soup.

That was all I knew. I never knew the version she did—the one who rode a wyvern and was stripped of the death quell.

But the more I found out, the more I felt like I knew her—hidden in disguise with a faux frosted coat. The lies she’d spewed for years. Was it lies? Was not knowing of her forbidden power considered a lie?

The wind dragged through us. “You’re lucky to have a family,” she said softly. “I would love to meet your mother one day. ”

“We could fly back during Winter Solstice when we have our holiday. It’s the most beautiful time to visit,” I said.

Malachi grinned. “I’d love to.”

I should have asked about her siblings. I should have wanted to know more about Malachi and her family. I sensed that soft part in her, but I couldn’t for some reason.

We reached the combat grounds, and my heart dropped when I saw Bridger and Damien pinned against each other.

Summer and Winter.

Bridger struck two icicles in each palm, raising them above his head and throwing them toward Damien—whose hand grabbed both mid-air. Damien threw the ice at his feet with a loud, primal grunt as glass whirled around him, shoving a dozen spheres at Bridger’s chest.

Bridger cursed, “Not so small of pieces, man. I don’t want to spend the next day picking shards out of my arm.” Frost coated his fingers, trailing down his elbow.

Damien countered each of his moves, always one step ahead. “Come on, Bridger. You can break a helpless first-year’s wrist and torment her for days, but you can’t fight someone your size?”

My cheeks flushed as I watched them speak about me. But… I never told a soul about that.

Malachi nudged me. “You should know Damien wins every round.”