Page 45 of The Bond That Burns

“If Blake finds out he’ll go nuts,” Theo said miserably.

My lips twitched. “More nuts?”

Theo grimaced. “You haven’t seen anything yet, believe me. Besides, Medra, what’s the point of going down this road? You heard what everyone said at the Tribunal. It’s impossible.”

“Well, your people also thought the dragons were gone forever, didn’t they?” I pointed out. “And that turned out to be false. So when they tell me bonds can’t be broken, forgive me if I don’t pay very close attention.”

Theo smiled slightly. “Fair, I guess.”

I wanted to point out that Theo wasn’t the one who had to hold weekly feeding sessions with Blake. But I’d realized I was encroaching on some vulnerable territory. Highbloods were prickly about the idea of blightborn notwantingto be fed from. It was almost as if it hurt their feelings or something. Even Theo, who was so progressive in most other ways, seemed to still have at least some of this mentality.

“I’ll see you in the refectory later, okay? Maybe at lunch.” I touched his shoulder and forced a smile. “Good luck today.”

He nodded and then slouched away, still looking morose and reminding me of Naveen a little. Except Theo’s hair was perfectly styled and he wore expensive, tailored clothes. And he was a highblood, of course.

I wondered who Theo had fed from this morning. He was looking a little paler than usual. Did he space his feedings out like Blake did, waiting as long as possible? Did he dislike using thralls like Blake had claimed to? I wasn’t sure these were things I should ask. But I was pretty sure I needed the answers if I was going to try to develop a real friendship with Theo and Visha.

I made my way through Bloodwing’s halls, purposely skirting around the Dragon Court. I wasn’t ready to see that place again so soon. The thought of the remaining three stone dragons still sitting there frozen made my skin crawl.

So, instead, I took the cloister path, walked to the end of the arched tunnel and pushed through a side door that led outside.

I breathed in the sharp, salty air of the island. The morning sun was beginning to break through the clouds, casting a soft glow over the rocky cliffs and grassy slopes surrounding the castle. Everything was still green and vivid. The leaves hadn’t begun to change color yet.

It felt strange to be leaving the castle to attend a class. I walked slowly down the pebbled path towards the greenhouse that lay nestled at the base of the hill. As I grew closer, I eyed it curiously. This was the nearest I’d ever come to the greenhouse, though of course, we could see it through various windows from inside the castle. Up close, the building was larger than I’d thought, with an arched roof and a beautiful glass and iron frame. The structure looked surprisingly delicate for such a functional building.

The breeze whipped at my cloak and I pulled it around me. I’d chosen my outfit with practicality in mind. My fitted black trousers were tucked into knee-high boots, perfect for the muddy, mossy hillside. Overtop I wore a thick, soft black wool sweater—free of House Drakharrow insignia. I’d torn off the house motto patch that morning. It had left a slightly frayed spot but no one had noticed so far. I’d worried Blake might, but I needn’t have been concerned. He’d been too busy bullying me that morning to notice what I was wearing.

A crowd of students were already gathered around the greenhouse. I saw Florence. She stood near the entrance, holding a stack of books, her face lit up with excitement.

It gave me pause to see her in black and silver and not the blue and gray First Year colors. But she was in House Avari now. Considering how Blake had acted that morning, maybe it was for the best. I wondered how she’d fare with Kage as her House Leader.

“Medra!” Florence called, spotting me. She waved enthusiastically and came towards me, juggling her stack of books.

“How did you beat me here?” I asked her. “I thought you were having breakfast in the refectory.”

“You weren’t there so I came here instead. I didn’t want to be late for my first class,” she said, beaming. “I can’t wait to see what we’ll be working on with Professor Allenvale. My mother says she’s brilliant. She’s written so many treatises on alchemical applications in battle.”

I smiled at her enthusiasm. “I’m glad one of us is excited.”

She tilted her head, her smile faltering. “What about you? You don’t have to be worried about Regan this year and there’s no chance she’ll be in a herbology class. But is everything else all right?”

“I just came from a bit of a run-in with Blake,” I admitted. “But don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you about that later. Let’s just focus on class for now.”

She nodded, but her concerned expression lingered on me and made me wish I hadn’t said anything. One of us should have a good first day and I wanted it to be Florence.

I looked around, scanning the faces of our fellow classmates. To my surprise, we were a mix of blightborn and highbloods from all four houses. I even spotted another familiar face. Lunaya Orphos. She stood near the edge of the group, her straight silver-blonde hair hanging around her shoulders. She’d fixed her gaze dreamily on the greenhouse like she was peering into some other world.

Before I could decide whether or not to say hello and introduce myself to Lysander’s sister, a cheerful, melodic voice broke through the chatter.

“Good morning, everyone!”

A woman was approaching. I assumed this must be Professor Vasanti Allenvale. The professor’s arms were full of parchment scrolls and herb clippings. She even had a potted plant precariously balanced on top of everything.

Our instructor was younger than I’d expected. She was also a highblood, which surprised me as she was co-teaching the class with Professor Rodriguez. But then, Rodriguez seemed to getalong with some of his highblood colleagues at least some of the time—such as Professor Sankara.

Professor Allenvale’s long hair was pulled back into a practical braid. Smudges of dirt streaked her robe which were trimmed in the purple and gold of House Orphos. A pair of round gold spectacles perched at the tip of her brown nose, giving her an air of sunny disarray. I glanced at Florence and grinned to myself as I saw her pushing her own, black-rimmed glasses self-consciously up the bridge of her nose as she watched the professor.

But the most surprising thing about Professor Allenvale was the color of her hair. When she turned and I could see her braid more clearly, I noticed that the long strands were streaked with purple and green highlights. I blinked. I’d never seen a highblood with dyed hair before. It seemed so out of place at Bloodwing where tradition loomed large over everything. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered why students didn’t do it more often.

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