Page 44 of On Wings of Blood

She pulled me down beside her and punched me squarely in the nose. I heard a sharp crack and blood sprayed into my eyes.

Instantly, Visha’s fangs flared like white pearls and for a moment she hovered over me, eyes wide and dilated. She sniffed the air hungrily and I held my breath, expecting her to lose herself in a frenzy at any moment.

Then, as if with great effort, she shook her head and snarled. “You didn’t think you were actually going to get out of here, did you, bitch?”

She reached down to her side and I saw a flash of silver. A knife.

Visha still had me by the hair. Now she lowered her lips closer to my face. “You look good in the dirt. It’s where you belong.”

I started to lift my head, intending to smash her in the face with it.

“That's enough, ladies. Break it up.” The voice carried over the crowd, deep and resonant.

For a moment, Visha’s hand stayed poised over me. Then the knife disappeared into her palm.

“I said break it up. Get off her, Visha. Now. Or you’ll be packing your bags before nightfall. She beat you. Fair and square. I saw it all. But you decided you were done playing fair.”

I turned my head to see who was speaking.

An extremely tall man with dark ebony skin had appeared on the outskirts of the crowd of students. There was a noble air to his attractive face. His silver hair was tightly curled and closely cropped to his head. A gold ring hung from one ear. He stood tall with his legs spread and his arms folded over a broad, heavily muscled chest. Our instructor, I presumed.

Blake stood beside him. If I hadn’t known better, I might have thought the expression on the highblood’s face was one of worry. Was he afraid he’d be getting into trouble for what he’d allowed to transpire?

Visha hissed. “Combat isn’t about playingnice, Professor.”

“No, but it’s the first day of class and I’m not ready for our first murder,” the teacher said calmly.

I flinched.

The man sighed. “You cheated, Visha. There. Is that blunt enough for you? Get up.”

Visha slowly stood.

“This isn’t over,” she murmured as she looked down at me.

“You’ve got that right.” I spit out a mouthful of dirt and tried to ignore the smirk on her face.

“Give her your hand, Visha,” the man instructed. “Someday soon you’ll be fighting not just your fellow students, but ones from visiting academies. Show some fucking grace.”

Visha looked furious. She glanced once at the blood still trickling from my nose, then did as he said, holding her hand out.

“No fucking way am I taking that thing,” I said, heaving myself to my feet on my own.

I groaned and clutched my chest. I was pretty sure something was broken. A rib. Maybe two.

“Pendragon, to me. Everyone else, clear out and get back to work,” the instructor snapped. “There’s half an hour of class left and I expect to see you use it.”

I walked stiffly over to the ropes as Visha slunk away across the courtyard.

I could feel Blake there, standing beside the instructor, so I was trying not to show how much I hurt. But there was blood running down my face from my nose and into my mouth. I was panting and covered with dirt. And my chest ached everytime I breathed. I was pretty sure it was obvious.

Gingerly, I took up a position a safe distance away from Blake. I still wasn’t sure what effect the sight of my blood had on him. Would he lose control like Visha almost had?

“So, this is the already-infamous Medra Pendragon,” the instructor said, stepping forward as I came out from under the ropes. He gripped me by the arm and helped me down the rest of the way. “I’m Sebastian Sankara, your professor.”

“Glad you were able to make it,” I said, with not a little bitterness.

“Yes, well, you were the one out of place.” Professor Sankara touched a hand to his chin. “I’ve just checked the roster and you aren’t on it, Miss Pendragon. You weren’t supposed to be here. This class is for advanced students who have attended Bloodwing for at least one year.”

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