Page 101 of Shattered Stars

Eventually he falls back with a sigh of disappointment, the flame extinguishing in a puff of smoke, the tight hold on my body opening like spring.

I’m forced to smother my own sigh of relief as he picks up his pen. I know he’s going to dismiss me. But I’m not ready to go yet. He knew my mom. Does he know what happened to her?

“What happened to that woman?” I ask again.

“I am most certain that woman was your mother.”

I shrug like I don’t care.

He smiles coldly. “Our enemies learned about her, learned of our weapon, and they snatched her from us. Used her against us. Of course,” he shakes his head, “we rescued her eventually, brought her back home, where she belonged. But by that point she was already carrying a child. Some say the father was a dark magical from the West.”

The words echo around my head. A dark magical? My father? I think of the picture in my locket – the one Summer now has. The man in that picture looked kind, gentle. Was he?

“Wh-what happened to her?” I repeat.

“Murdered,” he says, and the flash of the snake returns, cruelty hovering in his eyes. I wait for the strike, for the fangs. “Brutally tortured and murdered.”

“How?” I say, the room suddenly even hotter, spinning in front of my eyes. All the pain now concentrating right in the depths of my heart.

“Crimson magic.”

I want to fold over my knees and vomit. I want to curl up into a ball and sob. I want to be far, far away from him and from everyone.

But I’m stuck on this seat, the chancellor’s eyes perusing my face, squashing every emotion I’m feeling deep, deep down inside me.

“Who?” I say, my voice loud in my own ears.

“I don’t know, I’m afraid. But, of course, it’s of no real interest to you anyway, seeing as she wasn’t your mother.” The chancellor picks up his pen and snaps off the lid, ruffling the papers in front of him. “Thank you for coming to see me, Miss Blackwaters. This was a most interesting conversation.” Heat creeps into my cheeks. Was it? Did I give too much away?

I take this as my cue to leave and stand, my legs weak beneath me, every step towards the door a struggle to appear normal, composed.

As I reach for the handle, Azlan so close I can feel him on the other side of the door, the chancellor calls out, not raising his gaze from his paperwork.

“If you do remember anything more, Miss Blackwaters, about your childhood, about your aunt or your mother, you will be sure to tell me, won’t you?”

“Y-y-yes.”

“Same goes for any unusual abilities. We’re always keen to pick out the best talent from the academy.”

I push down the handle and stumble out of his office almost falling straight into Azlan’s arms as the door slams behind me.

“Rhi!” he says, with concern.

I shake my head, pulling myself upright.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, although every part of my body screams with pain.

He looks at me and then the guards still flanking the doorway and the secretary hovering off in the distance.

“Let’s go,” he says, stiffening his stance and taking a grip of my elbow. To all the pairs of eyes watching us, I’m sure it looks like he’s marching an uncooperative brat out of the building, when really I’m relying on him to keep me upright and moving, my legs so weak they might give way any moment, air struggling to reach my lungs.

He picks up the pace, sensing my distress, and we crash through the exit and into the daylight. I fling back my head and gasp, sucking fresh air into my lungs, Azlan’s grip still tight on my arm, his other hand stroking circles over my lower back.

“Breathe, Rhianna, just breathe.”

I close my eyes, focusing on the low tenor of his voice, of his warm touch, of the comfort of his bond. My body relaxes. The feeling of panic subsides. I blow away the anxiety and open my eyes.

“Okay?” he says.