Page 43 of A Dawn Of Blood

It smiles. “Agreed.”

Raven shakes its hand.

“Well?” I demand, folding my arms. “What do you have for us?”

It inhales deeply. “I once heard someone mention it, a somewhat cuckoo fae who worked from the Red Room.”

I frown. “And?”

It smiles. “That’s it. That’s everything I know.”

My jaw clenches. “The Red Room is basically rubble at the moment.Magicalrubble we can’t get through. How do you propose we use that information of yours?”

Raven takes me by the upper arm. “It’s fine. You go now, Anna. I’m sure you’ll find a way around it.”

Pressing my lips tight, I just keep looking at her, trying to come up with a way to get her out of this.

“Don’t worry about it,” she tells me with a slightly surprised chuckle. “I was a cursed raven once, remember? This is not unfamiliar territory for me.”

I shake my head. Goddamn it. But what’s done is done. I take her hand to give it a comforting squeeze. “If it starts giving you any kind of trouble,” I say with a warning look, “leave. We’ll deal with the consequences later.”

She gives me a nod and I force myself to let go of her hand.

Exchanging a glance, Dryden and I turn around and start walking away.

“So,” I hear the gargoyle say, somewhat awkwardly to my surprise, “what’s your favorite kind of stamp?”

Chapter 31

The following afternoon, I’m in for another session with de Groot. On my way to the classroom, I bump into Jaeger going in the opposite direction, looking all somber.

“Is this what you look like when you’re in another dimension?” I tease.

It makes me frown, when she only blows an absent-minded laugh through her nose, but I keep moving, determination in my step. Today will be the day I finish my defense training.

“You’re late,” de Groot says when I walk inside.

She’s colder than usual. “I’m happy to report the gargoyle onlyboredRaven to death last night,” I offer as I lean against the desk across from her. “And we’ve cleared the path to the Red Room and started trying to get rid of the rubble.”

“And how isthatgoing for you?” she asks mockingly.

I successfully prevent myself from rolling my eyes at her. “Not too well. Hopefully, we’ll find the man’s desk or something, but so far, every stone we turn just goes back to where we found it.”

“So it’s not exactly a good excuse for tardiness,” she bites out.

I raise my eyebrows at her. “You’rein a good mood.”

The next thing I know, she’s barging into my mind without a single fuck for my wellbeing.

And this time, she seems to know exactly what she’s looking for, heading straight for my memories of my father.

In the one she stumbles on first, I’m standing in our foyer, faking a smile while father is saying bye to one of the big shots he’s had me win over. But the only thing I’m truly aware of is his hand on the small of my back — on his property, his tool, the daughter he only ever addresses around the countless people he needs to suck up to. I’d bite my right arm off just to make him stop touching me, but that doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to the moment I know he will. As soon as he finishes greeting his esteemed guests, he lets go of me and starts leading me up the stairs and into the rooms he keeps me locked in. There, the men are already waiting, the examination table set up right next to my bed. They strap me in and I spend hours staring at the ceiling while they conduct their tests with my father observing from the chair in the corner. Normally, I manage not to hate them, especially knowing how they all eventually end up. But it makes it particularly hard, whenever the tests include cutting me up just to see how I’ll react. Most of the men don’t care about the tears running down my face, but these two prove to be softies. The memory of exactly what they tell my father is vague, but it boils down to insisting there might not be anything out of the ordinary about me. Maybe it’s just her natural charm, they tell him. It’s at that moment that my father gets up and walks over to the one leading the test tonight. Most of the time, you won’t remember anything but the gist of some conversation, but then there are moments that cut into you so much, you remember every single detail. “There are charming people,” my father replies, “and then there are abominations.” I don’t say anything.I’ve given up on expecting to be either addressed or listened to. I just keep lying there, waiting for the people to patch me up — carefully, because I am the Vice President’s daughter after all, gather their equipment and leave. It’sthatmoment that I live for and depend on. The moment father will lock the door behind him and leave me to walk over to the windowsill of my gilded cage, count the days until I turn eighteen and stare out into the yard until the drugs start kicking in.

Once she’s had her fun, de Groot pulls herself out, leaving me panting on the floor once again.

Goddamn it.

“Is that when you started shutting people out,” she drawls as she walks over to me, “when your father started doing those weird little experiments on you?”

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