Page 140 of The Bond That Burns

Nyxaris tilted his head up to the dark sky and roared. Then he spread his wings and leapt into the sky.

CHAPTER 35 - BLAKE

The classroom used for Sanguine Rites was a foreboding space, reserved for the more advanced students of House Drakharrow. Located in the lower levels of the Academy, the walls of the room were black stone veined with crimson.

Sanguine Rites was my least favorite class and I’d have dropped it if I could. I was an excellent student, one of the professor’s favorites. But using blood to force compliance or binding individuals or creatures to a caster was low down on my list of goals to accomplish outside of a classroom. Blood magic was too close to thrallweave for my liking. That said, crafting sigils and glyphs from blood to protect ourselves against other kinds of magical threats was potentially useful. Next year, I knew we’d be using blood magic in duels against one another and practicing offensive and defensive techniques. Now that I might be able to get behind.

I walked in with Theo by my side. Students from the previous class were still trickling out. We’d arrived early.

Standing at the front of the room was our professor, Alastor Vane. He was a tall, thin highblood man with hair so pale it almost seemed white. He wore it tied back in a long greasy-looking tail. Vane’s face was angular and almost skeletal, perfect for a professor of blood magic.

Professor Vane was brilliant but I’d never warmed up to him. Now I narrowed my eyes as I saw who he was conversing with. Standing next to the professor’s desk was my brother, Marcus.

“What’s Marcus doing here?” Theo muttered.

“I don’t know. But if he’s here then it can’t be for any good reason.”

“You mean because he’s a bloodthirsty psychopath?” Theo supplied helpfully.

I shot him a look. “I would have just said asshole, but sure, that works.”

Marcus was leaning against Vane’s desk with the casual arrogance of someone who thought himself untouchable. With a pang, I realized the pose was easy to recognize—since Marcus had taught me how to come off that way myself. I’d learned from the worst.

From this angle, Vane’s face was unreadable. But Marcus’s face was stretched out in an easy smile. Whatever Vane was telling him, it was making Marcus happy. And we didn’t want Marcus happy. No, we did not.

Before I could approach them, Marcus glanced in my direction. Our eyes met briefly, then he said something to Vane and strode out of the room.

I dropped into a seat next to Theo, my shoulders suddenly tense. “What the hell do you think that was about?”

“Maybe he wants to audit a class,” Theo suggested, as he set his books down. “Some older highbloods come back to do that from time to time, you know. Keeps their minds from becoming stale.”

I glared at my cousin. “Right. Because Marcus is the type to worry about his mind.” I slouched forward, draping my arms out over the table and wondering about why Marcus was at Bloodwing.

At least he hadn’t been hanging around Lunaya. I’d talked to Lysander about his sister and my brother that morning. The Orphos leader had told me he was as concerned as I was and that he’d be keeping a tighter watch on Lunaya, as well as speaking to her about the danger my brother might pose to her.

Honestly, I wasn’t offended when he’d said that. I was just relieved to hear my uncle hadn’t gotten to Lysander and made him some kind of an offer to have Lunaya become Marcus’s next consort.

I realized Theo had become unusually quiet. When I glanced at him, he was staring at me with wide, alarmed eyes.

“What?” I asked, irritation creeping into my voice.

Theo didn’t respond. His gaze moved downwards. I followed his line of sight—then felt my stomach drop.

Scales. All over my hands and wrists. Red, iridescent scales, bright as flames.

“Shit,” I hissed, yanking my arms off the table and scrambling for my jacket. I pulled it on with phenomenal speed, fumbling to pull the sleeves down as low as they’d go, then crossed my arms over my chest.

“Blake,” my cousin whispered. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing,” I said defensively. I pretended to adjust my cuffs.

“Nothing?” Theo’s voice rose slightly. I shot him a warning glare—which he proceeded to ignore. “Blake, those were scales. Why the hell do you have scales?”

“Keep your voice down,” I growled. But my heart was pounding. I lowered my voice to a harsh whisper. “Look, it’s complicated. But everything is fine. I have it under control.”

This was an exaggeration at best. A great big, blatant lie at worst.

“I don’t believe you,” my cousin said, shaking his head. “How long has it been happening?”

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