CHAPTER 22 - MEDRA

I pushed at my mashed potatoes, my mind a million miles away from the refectory where I sat with Florence and Naveen.

"You're sulking, Medra. What's wrong?" Naveen teased. "Not enough butter on your mashed potatoes?"

I stuck out my tongue at him. "Oh, you know. Just thinking about how ignorant I am."

"Ignorant?" Florence looked puzzled. "You're not ignorant. You're not stupid, Medra."

"Not stupid, no," I agreed. "But ignorant, yes." I looked back and forth between them. "There's so much that I don't know. That you two do, just from having grown up here."

They'd never pushed to find out where I was from. When I'd explained that I'd lost my memories, that had seemed to be enough for them. They'd accepted it. They made a point of never asking me about my past. They didn't pry. Was that friendship? They were the first friends close to my own age I'd ever really had. I was incredibly grateful for them.

"Well, if you'd been listening instead of murdering your mashed potatoes," Naveen began. I looked down at my plate and saw that I'd pushed half the potatoes onto the table in my distracted state. "Then you'd have heard us talking about something you might be interested in."

I perked up. "Oh, really? And what's that?"

Florence glanced around, then lowered her voice. "The House Leader rite is coming up."

"What is up with everyone looking around to make sure they're not overheard lately?" I grumbled, but they'd grabbed my attention. "The House Leader thing? Is it some sort of a secret? I thought it was an open and shut selection. Blake is going to be the new House Leader for Drakharrow at Bloodwing, right?"

"Well, probably," Florence said slowly. "But there are a few rites throughout the year. Not just the House Leader one."

"When is the House Leader selection, anyhow?" I asked.

"We don't know. First Years don't get told much," Florence admitted. "It's always unexpected when it happens."

"I would have thought your mother would know," I said, a little surprised.

Florence shook her head. "She's not allowed to tell me anything about it. Though it's an open secret among most of the highblood students. They'll have a better idea than we do."

"There are two big events throughout the school year," Naveen explained. "One happens every year. One only happens if a House Leader position is open."

"I already know about the House Leader selection. What's the other one?" I asked, curious.

He exchanged a glance with Florence. "It's a game for the consorts."

I scrunched up my nose. "A game? Really? And I have to participate?"

"You're in it whether you want to be or not, Medra," Florence said quietly. "So is Regan."

"In fact, we were wondering if anyone had told you about it. A professor? Maybe Rodriguez?" Naveen looked at me inquiringly.

I shook my head. "No. Nothing. No one has mentioned it. Not until now."

"You must be wondering why we didn't mention it before," Florence said. "But non-highblood consorts are so rare... Honestly I keep forgetting that's why you're here. It's such a strange situation."

"You're telling me," I said bitterly. "So what's involved in this consort game thing exactly?"

"They call it a game but it's not a childish one. The Consort Games are basically a test to weed out the weak," Naveen said.

Considering I was the only non-highblood consort, that didn't sound good.

"The consorts are supposed to work together to succeed and survive," Florence added. "Right now, you're not officially a consort yet. Not until you pass the Games."

For a moment I considered trying to fail the Games on purpose. I didn't want to be an official consort. That sounded worse than whatever I already was.

Then I put my hands flat on the table. "Wait. What? Are you telling me I'm supposed to work with Regan? As in, these Games are actually dangerous?"

Florence bit her lip and nodded nervously. "I'm afraid so. Failure is not an option. Which is why I'd hoped that Regan had talked to you already." She looked miserable. "She's supposed to be your teammate."

"She hasn't said anything to me about it." I thought for a moment. "So we're supposed to work together for this? Regan and I? There's no other choice?"

"We don't know very much. In fact, that's basically the only thing my mother would tell me when I asked her about it again recently," Florence said. "But yes, you're supposed to be a team. You're supposed to prove you can cooperate. The point of a triad union is strength. The consorts are supposed to be able to cooperate to protect their archon."

"Archon?" I raised my eyebrows. "You mean Blake?"

"Blake, yes. Or Catherine. She's the archon of her triad. Or she will be. The archon can be male or female," Florence explained.

"This is ridiculous," I moaned, putting my chin on my hands. "There is no way I am ever going to..." I glanced at Naveen and saw he was blushing. "You know what I mean. I'm not going through with any of this so what's the point?"

"Medra, I know you hate Blake. And Regan is no better. But this isn't just about your preferences," Florence said wretchedly. "I simply don't see how you can defy Viktor Drakharrow, even if you wanted to. If it's any consolation, while I know you don't want to hear this, you're in an extremely powerful and privileged arrangement in many ways. One that many blightborn would envy. But since I know it's not about the status for you, keep in mind that this is about your very survival."

Naveen nodded. "That's what Florence and I are worried about. No matter what happens with Blake, you're a First Year. You've seen how they treat us. You're going to have to get through the Consort Games. Somehow."

I thought back to the day in the Black Keep. Slowly I raised my left wrist and tugged the sleeve of the gray sweater I wore down just enough that a mark appeared.

"Is that the mark from the bonding ceremony?" Florence asked softly, looking at the red teardrop shape.

" Bondage mark, more like it," I said bitterly. "I wish I could get rid of it. Scrub it off like it was ink."

Naveen's face was troubled. "But it's not ink, Medra. You're part of that triad now, no matter what."

"Do you think Regan has the same marking?" I asked, suddenly curious. I'd never thought of it before.

Florence shook her head. "No. What you have is something different. I've never seen it before. You said Viktor did it?"

I nodded. "He marked Blake, too. He said some words. Almost like an incantation." They'd also reminded me of a marriage.

What is spoken cannot be unbroken.

I shuddered, wondering what kind of magic had been involved. There had to be some way to undo it. It was a betrothal, I reminded myself. We weren't married. Yet. Viktor Drakharrow had said this was just the beginning. I refused to accept–refused to believe–that I had to stay linked to Blake or to Regan in any way.

Maybe killing Blake would break the bond, a nagging voice in my head said.

It wasn't such a terrible idea. It might wind up being the only way.

I thought of the fluffin. How Blake had been willing to take it to a healer. All right, then, the man had one miniscule redeeming quality. He didn't hate animals.

Especially not tiny, cute ones.

That wasn't enough to make him actually tolerable. Or worth not killing. Was it?

"You should ask Rodriguez about all of this," Naveen was saying.

"Professor Rodriguez?" I frowned. "You don't even take a class with him. I didn't think you knew him."

"Everyone knows Rodriguez. He has the biggest chip on his shoulder when it comes to highbloods and yet he's still a cornerstone of Bloodwing," Naveen said, grinning.

"Not to mention that he likes you, Medra," Florence said encouragingly.

"I'm not so sure about that," I said, with a grimace. "He tolerates me."

"He's giving you private lessons, isn't he?" she said, lowering her voice so no one else could hear. "That's going above and beyond, I'd say. He didn't have to do that."

She was right. I'd been an ass in his class, but he seemed to have forgiven me. He had insisted I be trained in thrallguard and he was patient with me in our lessons, if not exactly warm and friendly.

"He might be able to tell you if there have been any blightborn consorts. Even what they did to survive," Naveen said. "It's worth at least asking about."

"Maybe they just liked their fellow consort and actually worked together," I said. Deep down I knew that wouldn't be happening with Regan.

"The person who would really know the most is Professor Hassan. But I don't think you should approach her," Florence said regretfully. "She really doesn't like you."

"Not the biggest Professor Hassan fan," I acknowledged. "Though she is certainly knowledgeable."

"I think she'd be more likely to accuse you of trying to cheat than to give you any helpful information," Naveen said. "I wouldn't bother."

I nodded and pushed my plate away. "Well, no use putting it off." I rose from the table.

"Now?" Florence looked surprised. "You're going now?"

I shrugged. "May as well see if he's in his office."

When I got to Rodriguez's office, the door was ajar.

Usually I'd wait in the hallway if I arrived at one of our lessons early and he'd always come to the door of his office and beckon me in.

But now, when I peeked through the crack in the door, it looked as if the room was empty.

Rodriguez's tall shelves lined with books caught my eye. He had quite the collection. I knew his interests went beyond restoration magic. He knew a great deal about dragons. What else was he interested in?

Ignoring a slight twinge of guilt, I pushed the door open, then shut it behind me exactly as it had been–slightly ajar.

I was just waiting in his office, I told myself. I wasn't going to touch anything. I knew I shouldn't be in there, not without his permission. But desperation was gnawing at me.

I glanced around the room, taking in the dark wood bookshelves that lined the walls from floor to ceiling.

My gaze locked onto a row of books that seemed older than the others. They were at the top of one of the shelves in the far corner.

I was tall but not that tall. I'd need a rolling ladder just to reach them.

Fortunately, Professor Rodriguez had one built in alongside the shelves.

I grabbed it quickly and slid it over to the shelf. Climbing up, I scanned the books quickly, keeping my ears open for sounds from the hallway.

Some of the volumes were on dragons. Others were on blood magic. One book called Blood Magic and the Serpents of Flame caught my eye, but I kept scanning, hoping to find something more relevant to my immediate situation.

I had almost reached the end of the shelf and was running out of titles to read when I saw it.

The Dark Art of Eternal Bonds.

My fingers brushed the edges of the cover. I felt a cold tingle pass through my hand, as if the book itself might be aware of my intentions.

I froze for a moment, listening for any sounds from the hallway. But it was quiet.

Carefully, I lifted the book from the shelf and cracked open the cover. The parchment was brittle and as I flipped through the pages, the words at first made no sense. Just a jumble of letters, shifting and moving like smoke.

I blinked, feeling panic rise in my throat, but then, the text suddenly sharpened and became legible.

This was the right book. I could feel it.

My fingers flew to the table of contents, my eyes scanning the page. And there it was: "A Ritual to Undo the Binding of Souls." The words jumped out at me, like a beacon in the dark.

My hand hovered over the page, torn between ripping it out and shoving the whole book into my satchel.

"Find something interesting?"

My heart lurched and I almost dropped the book. I grabbed at the ladder before I could fall backwards, then turned my head.

Professor Rodriguez stood in the doorway, his hands shoved in a pair of shabby brown trousers.

"I'm sorry," I said automatically. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was just waiting for you to come back."

"You've got quite an eye for rare books." Rodriguez stepped further into the room. He was watching me closely, as if unsure I really knew what I'd found. "Few students can read Classical Sangrathan."

"I can't," I blurted. "Read it, I mean. I just thought the cover was beautiful."

I looked down at the cover, praying it was unique. I hadn't even glanced at it yet.

Fortunately, the book wasn't the dullest I'd seen. It was covered in deep, black leather, cracked with age but still rich and polished as if it had been well-cared for over centuries. Silver filigree was coiled around the edges, curling into patterns that resembled wisps of smoke. In the center of the cover was embedded a serpentine silver dragon. I touched it lightly with one finger, feeling its ridges.

"Yes, it's a beautiful book. And rare. Put it back." Rodriguez's voice was soft, but his eyes were hard.

I quickly did as he said, then climbed down the ladder.

"Now, did you need something, Miss Pendragon? I don't recall us having an appointment. Or were you simply snooping?" He dropped a stack of papers onto his desk with a thud and I jumped.

Yes, something was going on with Rodriguez, I decided. He was always on edge, but now he was practically on guard. What was going on with him that he was this suspicious? Or was it just the fact that I'd touched the book?

Part of me wanted to ask him about the ritual, but with his suspicious attitude, I decided I'd better not risk it right now.

"I need something," I said, walking up to the desk.

"And that something is?" He sank into the wooden chair behind his desk and leaned back.

Even with his misguided sense of fashion, Rodriguez was a handsome man. It wasn't the first time I'd thought so. With his dark hair and long legs he was exactly my type. Or he would have been, if I wasn't fairly certain he already had a crush on Professor Sankara.

Or the type I thought was my type before a certain crooked aristocratic nose forced its way into my nighttime dreams...

I forced the thought out of my head.

"I need help surviving the Consort Games," I said bluntly. "Why did you never tell me about them?"

Rodriguez looked up at me from dark eyes, with a considering expression. "Teachers aren't permitted to tell students about Bloodwing rites. Especially not that one."

"Well, I know it exists so it's not a big mystery. I even know when it will happen," I bluffed.

He raised his eyebrows. "Do you? That's interesting. I don't."

"It's always held after the Frostfire Festival, right?" I guessed.

The House Leader rite was happening first. Florence and Naveen had seemed certain of that. And we were too close to midwinter for the Consort Games to be squeezed in before the break. They'd have to take place sometime afterwards. Probably in the spring.

"That's traditionally when they happen. But who knows about this year?" He looked at me directly. "Things change. The unexpected happens. Just look at you, for example."

"Speaking of the unexpected, I understand the consorts are expected to work together." I glanced at the door. Rodriguez had already shut it behind him. "How am I supposed to survive these Games when Regan Pansera hates me?" I hissed.

"That's certainly a problem," he agreed. "For you. Not for me."

I groaned and sank down into the hard wooden chair he always left out for students. I knew better than to take him at his word.

Rodriguez was a hardass, yes, but he didn't hate me. He might not like me as much as Florence thought, but I doubted he actively was hoping I'd die.

At least, I hoped not.

"Professor," I wheedled. "Please."

He laughed. "Whining will get you absolutely nowhere, Pendragon."

I sighed. "Can you at least tell me if there have been any situations like this? Any precedents for consorts who can't or won't work together?"

"Oh, there have absolutely been situations like that," Rodriguez said. "But you won't want to hear about any of them."

My heart sank. "Why not?"

"Because when that happens, the consorts usually die. Male and male, female and female, male and female. Whatever the configuration."

"But it's not fair," I said, starting to get angry. "I don't have a choice. Regan won't work with me, even if I wanted to work with her."

"Have you tried asking her? Talking to her about it?" Rodriguez picked up a quill and began to twirl it.

"Not exactly," I grumbled.

"Try that first. You never know." He tossed the quill up in the air.

"Fine. I will," I said. "But let's be realistic here. She won't agree. Even if I beg, which I'm prepared to do. Is Viktor Drakharrow really going to let us both die in this game just because we can't work together?"

"Viktor Drakharrow is a very busy, very important man, who probably has no idea that Regan hates you," Rodriguez said. "And who is going to tell him?" He tilted his head. "You?"

"Maybe I could get a message to him," I said desperately. "Send him a letter. I don't know. Something."

"Or you could stand on your own two feet and figure this out."

"That's easy for you to say," I shot back. "Sitting safely behind your teacher's desk."

Rodriguez's face hardened. "It's not as safe as you might think. We're blightborn after all, Miss Pendragon."

"Speaking of which, is there a precedent for that ? For a blightborn consort succeeding in this game, I mean?" I asked, leaning forward in my seat.

"Yes, but the consorts usually worked together in those cases. As far as I can remember." He gave me a look that was almost sympathetic. "Look, there's only one real way I'm going to be able to help you get through the games and you already know what it is."

"Practicing thrallguard."

He nodded. "Exactly. If Regan really hates you as much as you think, then she'll try to get to you. If she somehow survives and you don't..."

"Then she'll get exactly what she wants," I said hollowly.

And what I didn't. Blake Drakharrow.

"She hasn't tried to thrallweave you again, has she?"

I shook my head. Now that I thought about it, I wondered why she hadn't.

"Good. Blake probably warned her not to."

I laughed. "I seriously doubt that."

Rodriguez shrugged. "You never know. He probably doesn't want his uncle finding out you're in conflict with one another. It would reflect badly on him."

"Now that I can almost believe," I said with a sigh. "Well, thank you. Can we have another session soon please? Maybe we can even double them up?"

"I'm not sure I'll have time for that, but..." He must have caught my stricken expression. "Fine. We'll double them up sometimes. I'll have more time over the Wintermark break. Are you staying at Bloodwing for the festival? I assume so. You don't have any family in Sangratha, right?"

I shook my head. I hadn't thought about it. I supposed the school would be almost empty over the break. But that didn't bother me. I'd enjoy the quiet.

"I'll be here at Bloodwing, yes. And that would be great," I said with relief. "Thank you, Professor."

Out in the hall, I had only one thing to say.

So, is there something you want to tell me? I asked my mother.

She sighed. I did try to tell you.

No, you didn't, I argued. I thought back. When?

The other day , she reminded me. In the hall. Just before we were so rudely interrupted.

I tried to remember. You said you made changes. My heart sped up. What kind of changes?

Well, Classical Sangrathan for one. You can read it.

It's just the Old Tongue, I said immediately. The ancient language of Aercanum.

You were tutored in the Old Tongue, were you? Her tone was sardonic.

Well, no, I admitted. Not that I can recall.

I was. I grew up speaking it. Reading it. Classical Sangrathan is the Old Tongue, with a few slight variations. The text you found in your professor's office was a very old one. Older than your school mottos.

That's why it took me a moment to be able to understand it, I replied.

Yes. We were both... processing what you saw.

Will I still be able to read Classical Sangrathan when you're... gone? I asked.

I have no idea. That's an excellent question.

What other things have you done to me? I demanded. What changes have you made?

I haven't done anything intentionally. Consider this more like... spillage, she said.

Spillage? My back went up. I do not like the sounds of that.

I'm seeping into you, she said. Her voice was almost tired. I try not to, but I can feel it happening. A little bit more every day.

I thought for a moment. Does it hurt? Is the same happening to you? Am I seeping into you, I mean?

It doesn't hurt, no. Thank you for asking. Her voice was tender. I'm not sure. It's hard to tell. You have far fewer life experiences than I do. Far fewer skills.

Well, thanks, I said sarcastically. No need to remind me.

This could be a good thing, she said. Maybe something of me will be useful to you. Like the Classical Sangrathan.

She was right about that, I had to admit.

I think I've found the right ritual, I told her, the excitement I'd felt slowly returning. You saw the text?

I did. Thank you for letting me see it. But I think you're forgetting it's on a shelf in your professor's office. Rather out of reach for the moment.

For the moment, I said. But now that I know where it is, we can get to it. I'll come up with a plan.

Things were coming along. It wasn't hopeless. Not anymore. I'd get the book, even if I had to break in during the dead of night and steal it.

But I didn't think it had to come to that.

Professor Rodriguez had promised to give me extra lessons in thrallguard. Surely during one of those sessions I'd arrive early and the door would be open again.

Next time I'd go straight for the book, grab it, stash it in my satchel, then wait outside. He'd never even have to know. I could return the book as soon as the ritual was complete.