Page 38 of The Bond That Burns (Bloodwing Academy #2)

I smoothed down the lavender tunic for the tenth time. It was simple and practical, long enough to cover my thighs, paired with dark blue leggings that were stretchy and comfortable, and more importantly, wouldn’t get in the way like the long skirts I normally favored might.

But did the outfit say “ready to fight”? Or “ready to read”?

I looked across the room to where Neville sat, perched on the edge of my bed, watching everything.

“Do I look ridiculous, Neville?” I asked out loud.

The fluffin’s oversized ears swiveled at the sound of my voice. He let out a melodic chirp and bounded across the covers towards me, his tail wagging like mad.

“No, no,” I said warningly, wagging a finger and backing away. “This is serious. I can’t show up covered in fluffin fur. You can’t distract me right now.”

His tufted ears dropped dramatically.

I sighed. “I’m learning to defend myself, Neville. That means I have to be focused. Disciplined. Tough as nails.” I straightened my back, then adjusted the silver House Avari brooch pinned to my chest. “No fluffin nonsense.”

Neville tilted his head as if he were unconvinced, then plopped onto one of my pillows with a sigh.

“Stay here and be good,” I told him, grabbing my satchel and slinging it over my shoulder. I gave myself a final once-over in the mirror. Tunic, cinched belt, leather boots. Simple, practical, and hopefully good enough for my first fighting practice.

“Wish me luck,” I told Neville, who perked up again as I made my way to the door. I shook a finger at him. “Don’t you even think of following me.”

I slipped out into the corridor, carefully pulling the door shut behind me and checking it twice to make sure it was firmly latched. Satisfied, I set off down the hall.

I hadn’t told my mother I was doing this. I wanted it to be a surprise. Once I had something to show her, maybe I’d tell her. But right now, I knew telling her would only make her worry more. She hated violence. And what we’d witnessed in the carriage with Theo... Well, violence didn’t even seem like a strong enough word to describe it. What Aenia had done had been carnage.

And she was only a little highblood girl. How was I supposed to protect myself or my mother from something more? Something bigger?

I was a bundle of nerves, butterflies flapping in my chest. What if I tripped over my own feet? What if I was just wasting Medra’s time? What if she thought this whole thing was ridiculous but just wasn’t telling me?

I squared my shoulders and sped up my pace. Medra wouldn’t laugh. She was brave, kind, and confident. The sort of person I’d always admired but never thought I’d be lucky enough to call my best friend.

A few minutes later I was standing outside the training room used for scouting classes. The heavy wooden door stood ajar. I pushed it open nervously and stepped inside. The faint smells of sweat and old leather greeted me. Racks of wooden practice weapons lined the walls, while padded mats were scattered across the floor.

“Florence!” Medra’s voice rang out from across the room.

My heart lifted as I spotted my friend sitting on one of the mats, going through some stretches. As I walked towards her, she jumped to her feet. Her fiery hair was tied back in a braid. Paired with the black fitted leather pants that covered her legs like a second skin, she wore a sleeveless black tunic cropped over her midriff, exposing a bare stretch of toned muscle. Her arms and hands were covered with some sort of leather guards. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a warrior’s tale.

“You made it!” Medra stretched her arms out over her head and smiled. “You ready?”

“I hope so.” I was suddenly remembering all the physical education classes I had missed over the course of my childhood—preferring to read in the library or pretending to be sick so I wouldn’t have to run and break out into a sweat. My stomach sank. This had been a terrible idea.

“I think I forgot to mention that I’m not exactly coordinated,” I said miserably.

Medra laughed. “That’s okay. That’s what practice is for. Everyone starts somewhere, right?” Then her eyes moved downwards. “Um, but Florence...”

I followed her gaze and gasped. There, sitting proudly at my heels, was Neville. He looked up at me with his tongue lolling out in a way that could only be described as a grin and thumped the mat with his fluffy tail.

“Neville!” I groaned. “You were supposed to stay in the room.”

Neville tilted his head.

“Now you pretend you can’t understand me?” I complained. “I know you understand every word, you little rascal.”

“Get back to work or get out of my classroom, ladies!” a loud voice boomed out.

I jumped.

“Don’t worry,” Medra assured me. “She’s not talking about us.”

She gestured across the room where I saw two other students. Visha Vaidya was one of them. I was surprised to see a House Drakharrow student visiting a blightborn classroom. Then I saw the pretty, tough-looking dwarven girl she had her arms around. The pair were very much occupied, leaning up against the wall, and...well, decidedly not sparring.

“That’s it!” A stout dwarven woman strode up between Medra and I. “Out, ladies!” she roared at Visha and the other girl. “I expected better from you, Lace.”

The dwarven girl Visha had been kissing glanced over guiltily, licking her lips. “I’m so sorry, Professor. I swear it won’t happen again.”

I watched as the girl glared at Visha, then jabbed her sharply in the stomach with a fist. Visha grabbed her midsection and pretended to fall over.

The professor narrowed her eyes. “I want to see real competition happening over there, Vaidya. You promised me you’d make Ironstride work for it—” I assumed that was Lace’s last name. “I want to see her break a sweat. And not just from your damned lips,” the professor barked.

Visha smirked but nodded. “Yes, ma’am!”

“Now who’s this?” I realized the dwarven professor was staring up at me.

I gulped.

“Professor Stonefist,” Medra said quickly. “You remember I asked if I could invite my friend, Florence Shen, to one of our practice sessions? Florence wants to learn how to defend herself.”

The scouting instructor’s dark blue eyes scanned me, narrowing slightly. “Defend herself, eh? She’s a wee bit scrawny for this sort of thing. Not one for roughhousing are you, Miss Shen?”

“No, ma’am,” I blurted. “I like books.”

“Books, eh? All good and well in their place. What are you? A strategist? A healer?”

“Both,” I squeaked. “I mean, maybe. I also like plants.” Shut up, Florence, shut up, I silently told myself.

“And what about pets? Do you like those, too? I see you brought a little friend to class with you.” Professor Stonefist gestured pointedly to Neville.

“Oh, Bloodmaiden,” I moaned. “That was an accident.”

“You accidentally brought a pet?” Professor Stonefist rubbed her nose. “I didn’t even know students were allowed to keep animals.”

Technically, we weren’t, but somehow, no one had ever commented on Neville. The little fluffin could be surprisingly stealthy when he wanted to be. Practically invisible.

The instructor squatted down, her muscular form folding neatly despite the layers of well-worn studded leather armor she was wearing. As she studied Neville, I saw her face soften slightly.

“Well, well,” she murmured. “Haven’t seen one of these little beasties in a long time. You know much about these creatures, lass?” She glanced up at me.

“A little,” I said hesitantly. “They usually live underground.

Stonefist nodded. “Used to be every dwarven family had one. Kept our homes free from pests. Protective, loyal little things, too. But now...” She sighed, her fingers brushing gently over Neville’s ears. “Now it’s a rarity to see one.”

Neville was leaning against her hand like a cat basking in sunlight.

“Medra found him, actually,” I said. “She rescued him.”

The professor looked up at my friend with interest. “Did you now?”

Medra nodded. “I found him injured on the beach. We think he must have come up from underground. He was only a little pup then.”

Professor Stonefist nodded. “There are dwarven ruins beneath the school. Impossible to get to now, of course. But for a creature small enough, I suppose it might be possible.” She looked at Neville fondly. “My family had one when I was a child. Named him Tumbles. Used to follow me everywhere. My dad said Tumbles liked me best because I always shared my supper with him. They’re smart creatures. Never forget a kindness.”

I glanced at Medra, thinking of Blake. I knew my friend had mixed feelings about the House Drakharrow leader. So did I. But Neville wouldn’t be here without him.

I tried to picture Professor Stonefist as a child, but the image refused to take shape. It was easier to imagine her wrestling a band of pirates than sneaking table scraps to a fluffin.

Neville chirped happily, clearly delighted with all of the attention. The professor chuckled, then glanced up at me, catching me staring.

“The beard, is it?”

“What?” I blurted. “Oh! Goodness! By the Bloodmaiden, no, I hadn’t even noticed.” But my eyes betrayed me as they skipped straight to her beard. It was impossible not to notice. Silvery gray streaks wove through the neatly groomed hair, which curled gently at the ends. The whole thing seemed to have a life of its own, as though it had been sculpted into its artful twists with care.

I’d always known some female dwarves grew beards. Many took pride in them, especially the older generations.

“I—” My cheeks flamed. “It’s... just lovely.” The words tumbled out. “Your beard, I mean. Very impressive. So...twirly.”

The professor’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Twirly, eh? I can’t say I’ve heard that before. I suppose it has grown out quite a bit. Should give it a trim. A dwarf’s bear is a matter of pride, Shen. A beard tells a story. And mine could tell you plenty.”

“I’m sure it could,” I gasped, trying not to shrink back in embarrassment.

“Florence,” Medra muttered under her breath. I could see her lips twitching with suppressed laughter.

“Well, that’s just about enough chatter.” Professor Stonefist clapped me on the back so abruptly I nearly fell over. I started coughing into my arm, hoping she wouldn’t notice. “We’re here to toughen your friend up, not talk about my beard all day. Though your beard could use some work, too, Shen.” She smirked as I squeaked and touched my chin self-consciously, as if expecting to find hair had suddenly sprouted. “Let’s start her off with some basic work, Pendragon. Teach her how to take a hit without toppling over like a spindly sapling.”

“Yes, Professor,” Medra said, grinning as she motioned for me to follow her to a mat.

Professor Stonefist was eyeing Neville. “I suppose we’ll say he’s here for moral support. Keep him out of the way, Shen. No fluffins on the mats.”

“Yes, Professor.” I quickly scooped Neville up and he immediately started to snuffle his head towards my satchel. I let him climb into it gratefully.

I turned to Medra. “This is already the most embarrassing day of my life.”

She laughed, pulling me towards the mat. “Relax. You’re doing great. She likes you, I can tell. Besides, there’s hardly anyone around.”

“Really?” I pointed across the room where Vaughn Sabino was bouncing up and down as he hit a punching bag. “I see Vaughn.” The tall boy waved as he saw me staring and I waved back. “And oh, look, over there is Visha.”

“Visha’d better get her tongue out of Lace’s throat or Professor Stonefist might wind up being the first instructor to ever physically launch a highblood into the sky with her foot,” Medra muttered, as she eyed the two girls who were wrapped around each other again, this time as they lay on top of the mat.

“I think they started off fighting,” I said dubiously as I watched them. “But they got distracted. Again.”

“Yeah, that happens with Visha. A lot. She spars with her tongue.” Medra rolled her shoulders. “Okay, let’s start with some warm-ups. We don’t want you pulling a muscle on your very first day.”

“Warm-ups?” I asked nervously. “That doesn’t involve running laps, does it? Please tell me it doesn’t involve running laps.”

She laughed. “No laps, I promise. Though Professor Stonefist will make you run them if she hears you talking like that. We’ll just do some stretches. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” She lowered her voice. “And don’t worry about the beard. She didn’t have one last year. She’s been growing this one since Autumntide. She’s very proud of it. I think she appreciated that you noticed it so quickly, actually.”

I was pretty sure she was lying to spare my feelings, but I decided I’d take it. I sat down on the mat with her as she started guiding us through some basic poses. Touching my toes and lunging felt harmless enough, though I couldn’t help but notice how much more gracefully Medra moved compared to me. I felt like a baby deer attempting to walk for the first time.

“So,” I said conversationally. “Late night at the library the other day. Did you find what you were looking for?”

I hadn’t meant anything by it, but to my surprise she blushed.

“Medra!” I exclaimed. “What happened at the library?”

“Nothing,” she said defensively. Then she sighed. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for a while. I guess now’s as good a time as any.”

“Talk to me about what?” I asked curiously. “What happened?”

“I was researching for my essay and Kage came in...”

“Kage!” I practically shrieked.

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “Nothing happened with Kage.”

“But something did happen? With someone else?”

She hesitated. “Well, then Blake came in and...well.”

I clapped a hand over my mouth. “Kage and Blake? Together ?”

“By the gods, Florence! Not like that. Visha is rubbing off on you too much,” she said, shaking her head.

But I refused to be put off. “Did something happen?” I whispered. “Did they fight?”

I wasn’t actually expecting her to say yes but to my surprise, she blushed harder.

“They did!” I exclaimed. “They fought! Over you? Oh, Medra!”

“It’s not like it sounds,” she protested.

“Two house leaders, fighting over you? No, it’s exactly what it sounds like,” I said knowingly. This reminded me of the book I’d been reading the night before. It was full of handsome men and duels and true love. Medra always laughed when she saw me reading one of my romance books but I didn’t care. They helped me relax. Still, I should have known my best friend’s life would be just like a piece of fiction. Full of passion and romance. Whereas mine was flat and dull...and part of me didn’t mind if it stayed that way forever. Books were a lot safer than people. “And then what happened?”

She nibbled her lip. “I’m not sure I should get into the details.”

My eyes widened. “Was it Blake?”

She nodded slowly. “We’ve been... getting closer. I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She looked guilty. “Since before the Tribunal evaluation.”

“The Tribunal evaluation?” I gasped. “But that was weeks ago.” I shook my head. “I knew you two seemed nicer to one another that day. I should have known.” My curiosity was still bubbling. “So, you do care for him?”

“I don’t know what I feel,” she said immediately, in a way that told me she might know but didn’t want to talk about it.

“Well,” I said after a moment. “I’m glad you told me. Blake has a lot to prove. But if anyone can handle someone like him, it’s you. You know I won’t judge you, Medra. If he’s worth caring about, I’ll support you.”

She blinked. “You will?”

“Of course, I will,” I exclaimed. “But if he steps out of line, I’ll unleash the wrath of Neville on him.”

Medra laughed aloud. “I’ve never known Neville to be especially wrathful. Especially not towards Blake.”

“Neville is loyal to you, too,” I said stubbornly. “He’d want Blake to treat you nicely.”

“I’m not sure the word ‘nice’ is in Blake’s vocabulary,” she said a little doubtfully. “But don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily. “He’s not terrible to me. In fact, he’s improved quite a bit.”

“He sure as hell better not be,” I said loyally, shocking myself with my language. I lowered my voice. “What about the...feedings?”

Medra’s face turned even redder. “Oh, they’re not so bad lately.”

“Oh, no?” I said knowingly. “I understand the bite of a highblood can be exceedingly pleasurable if matched with...”

“Don’t you dare even finish that sentence, Florence Shen,” she moaned, covering her face. Then she looked up. “He’s asked me to go to the ball with him.”

I thought of Naveen and felt myself pale a little. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to the Dance of the Longest Night this year. From the look on her face, I could tell Medra was thinking of Naveen, too. “What did you say?”

“I told him I’d already made plans to go with you, of course,” she said promptly. “We already discussed it, remember?”

I shook my head. “We did, but that was before Blake invited you to go with him. If you want to accept, I’ll understand. You know that. I doubt I’ll be very much fun to go with.”

“I don’t want to go with him. I want to go with you,” she said stubbornly. “Besides, I already refused. I explained why. Don’t worry, Florence, he understands. He knows how important you are to me.” She stood up and offered me her hand. “Enough talking. Back to business. Let’s see if you can survive learning how to throw a punch.”

I took her hand, suddenly nervous again. “All right.”

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, a twinkle in her eye. “I’ll go easy on you.”

I suddenly remembered why I was there, how it had been my idea in the first place. I forced myself to recall the worst moment of my life—when my mother and I had been trapped in that carriage, helpless, weak, unable to do anything but cower as Theo was injured. I didn’t want to be that person anymore. I needed to be more like Medra. Strong. Practically invincible. Or at least, it sometimes seemed that way.

“I’m ready,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze. “Show me how it’s done.”