Page 46 of On Wings of Blood

“Me?” Blake bristled. “I doubt that.” He frowned. “You know I respect you, Professor, but...”

“But what, Drakharrow?” The professor’s voice was suddenly dangerously cool. “You’re a student in this class. You were in charge. Were you really going to let Visha Vaidya stab your consort in full sight of the entire class? You could have intervened sooner than you did. So why didn’t you? Why did you wait for me to do something?”

I looked back and forth between the two men in confusion. What did Sankara mean? Blake hadn’t intervened at all.

Blake glanced at me. “As you saw, sir, Pendragon handled herself. Better than I could have expected. I thought it was more fair to at least give her a chance to prove herself.”

I scoffed. “You’re fucking unbelievable. Was that a backhanded compliment?”

“It sounds to me like you’re saying she might deserve to be here, Drakharrow,” Sankara observed with a small smile. “In any case, there’s certainly precedent for it.”

“Precedent?” I asked.

“Dragon riders used to have their own advanced combat classes,” Sankara explained. “They were the warriors of the skies, after all.”

“Did they fight alongside vampires...?” I asked, curious despite myself. “Did they train with them?”

“Absolutely. They had to. In fact, that’s something I’ll be mentioning to the headmaster when I speak to him about you later on. You’re the only rider in the school and that means your curriculum should be as unique as you are. I’m not sure much thought was put into it based on what you’ve said.”

“I was in History of Sangratha and Restoration before this,” I said.

Sankara raised a brow. “Everyone has to take History with Professor Hassan. But Restoration? I’m not sure how much practical value that will hold for you. Another mistake on your schedule perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” I said, glaring at Blake again. “Today has just been full of those.”

“Bloodmaiden! Look at the time. We’d better get you to a healer.” Sankara glanced at me as I wiped away blood from my nose. “Not all of the students here are as restrained as my older cohort here. So you’ll need an escort. What class are you supposed to have next?”

“Introduction to Bloodwing Libraries,” I said. “At least, that’s what my timetable says. I’m not sure it’s correct.”

The professor nodded. “That sounds right. All First Years have a general orientation to the libraries. But I’m not sure you’re going to make it. You might have to catch up later. I want you to head to the Drakharrow House healer first. After that, see if there’s time before Headmaster Kim’s Commencement Address is scheduled to begin in the Dragon Court.” He glanced at Blake. “I assume I can trust you to show Pendragon the way to your house healer with no trouble?”

“No trouble at all, Sir,” Blake said. He looked at me coldly. “I’ll take her now.”

CHAPTER 8 - MEDRA

“I’m not a fucking parcel,” I snapped, as Professor Sankara walked off to speak with another student. “Just tell me where the healer is and I’ll find them. No need for us to spend any more time in one another’s company.”

“The professor said to take you, so I’m taking you,” Blake said stiffly. “Unless you truly want to wander the halls for hours aimlessly, hoping you find your way there on your own.”

“Asshole,” I muttered. “Fine. Lead on.”

He looked me up and down, then shook his head. “Visha sure got her claws into you.”

I knew I must look filthy. Not to mention my nose wouldn’t stop bleeding. I tilted my head up and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to stop the bleeding as I followed Blake out into the corridor.

A group of giggling students were passing by. Vampires, from the look of them. When they saw me they stopped babbling, their mouths opening and fangs protruding.

“What the fuck?” I muttered.

Blake gripped my arm, firmly but not painfully. “They’re First Years. Let’s move.” To them he snapped, “Get a grip.”

“Get off me,” I demanded, knowing it was useless.

Blake ignored me as I’d known he would. His pale features bore the same expression of frosty indifference I’d come to expect.

We moved through the halls. My nose still dripped faintly with blood. I kept a hand pressed to it, trying to stop the flow, finally resorting to wiping it covertly on my dirt-covered sleeve. I was already filthy. What were a few more bloodstains?

Every few steps, I glanced at Blake, wondering how he could stand to be this close to me with the scent of my blood in the air. Why wasn’t he reacting like Barnabas or Visha or even those First Years had?

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