Page 31 of On Wings of Blood

I gave myself a little shake. It didn’t matter. Because these people weren’t my family and I couldn’t start thinking of them that way even for a second. I couldn’t let my guard down, no matter how nice they were to me.

They used people. They fed from them. I wasn’t quite sure how the enthrallment process worked but it sure didn’t sound as if it was voluntary. It might have been a superior alternative to death, but it was still essentially... well, slavery. Wasn’t it?

The halls around us were quiet. I checked my timepiece. Nine-fifteen. We still had plenty of time.

“So,” I said, tentatively. “History of Sangratha, right?”

Regan looked over at me and smiled encouragingly. “That’s right. It’s just around this corner.”

I couldn’t help feeling a little relieved to hear that. This might have been a vampire school but I still didn’t want to be late. What would Florence say, after all?

I expected to see students lined up in the hallway but when we turned the corner and Regan led me over to a wooden door, there was no one outside.

“Well, you’d better go inside. Everyone is probably in there already, choosing their desks,” Regan said, brightly. “Unless you want me to stay with you? I don’t have class until ten this morning.”

“No, that’s all right,” I said, hurriedly. “I’ll be fine.”

She smiled reassuringly at me and then, to my shock, leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek.

“You’ll do great. Don’t forget what I said. Ask Professor Rodriguez about dragon healers when you get to Restoration. I won’t be around to take you to that class, but you should be able to find your own way. Ask one of the other First Years to help you. If they’re clueless, find a warden or a Second Year. I’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

I nodded. “Thanks for all of your help, Regan.”

Her expression softened. “Like I said, consorts have to help one another. See you later... Sister.”

I watched her walk away. I wasn’t quite ready to call her sister yet, but I could admit I might have been wrong in my initial judgment. She’d obviously been having a bad day yesterday. But she’d been protecting Blake. Doing what she’d been trained to do.

She was willing to give me a chance when it came down to it. I had to be grateful for that.

I pushed the door open to History of Sangratha, expecting to hear a familiar buzz of noise like there'd been in the First Year common room.

But to my surprise, the room was silent. You could have heard a quill drop.

My breath caught as I scanned the room, taking in the dozen or more rows of students, each one already seated and scribbling notes on parchment. There must have been at least a hundred students or more in the class.

As I pulled the door shut behind me, the scribbling stopped and every pair of eyes fixed on me where I stood, hesitating, just inside the doorway.

I suppressed a groan. This was getting to be a habit.

Tiers of polished wood desks and seats curved around the lecture hall. In the center of the room, a woman stood behind an oak lectern on a raised platform, her hands resting on its edge. Her skin was a deep brown hue that contrasted sharply with the white streaks running through her long, dark hair, which had been pulled back into a severe bun.

The professor’s lips were pressed into a thin line. A muscle in her jaw twitched as she stepped out from behind her lectern. She leaned against a carved, wooden cane, walking with a heavy limp. The cane tapped rhythmically against the stone floor as she came to the edge of the lecture stage.

“Miss Pendragon, I presume,” she said coldly. “How nice of you to finally join us.” She pointed up at the clock that hung on the wall behind the row of blackboards. “Only twenty minutes late.”

Neat and precisely handwritten notes were already up on one of the boards. Those must have been what the students had been hard at work copying. At the top I caught sight of the professor’s name, underlined for emphasis: Professor Amina Hassan.

I swallowed hard. “I beg your pardon, Professor Hassan. My timetable said class didn’t begin until nine-thirty. I thought I was early.”

My mind jumped to Regan. I wondered if I’d inadvertently made her late for her own class. Had she mixed up her timetable, too? If so, hopefully her professor would be less strict than mine was.

“There’s no excuse for a lack of punctuality,” the professor said, smacking the floor with her cane loudly. “Perhaps you believe that because you are allied with House Drakharrow, you do nothave to respect the rules of this institution. Or your blightborn instructors.”

I gaped. “I’m mortal, too, you know.”

She sneered. “Yes. Of rider’s blood. How very special.”

My face flushed. “I didn’t ask to be here.”

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