CHAPTER 34 - MEDRA

Wintermark

The once vibrant colors of autumn had faded away in the last few weeks. Leaves had fallen, swirling in gusts of color around our feet as we walked through open courtyards to class, and then vanished like embers extinguished in the night, swept up by the omnipresent but always subtle school staff. The trees were all bare now, their branches skeletal.

Mornings at Bloodwing were met with a thin veil of frost, painting the windows and cobblestones in the courtyards and open halls silver for a few brief hours. I dressed in a cloak or heavy sweater and scarf every morning before leaving my room.

As if to make up for the absence of the leaves, house colors were more evident with the changing of the seasons. We First Years wore wool cloaks of midnight blue or silvery gray, embroidered as ever with the school crest, our pointed hoods pulled up to block out the biting winds that had begun to swirl through the corridors. Classrooms were heated. Hallways were not and many had windows open to overlook the sea, the shutters of which were only closed at night.

House Drakharrow students marched through Bloodwing's halls in clothing of rich black and deep crimson, wool scarves shot through with red, knotted around their necks. House Avari students strutted by wearing black cloaks with silver-trimmed hoods, polished leather boots with silver laces snaking up their calves.

House Mortis students moved through the halls in white wool scarves and red cloaks. While students from House Orphos stood out like peacocks in their dark gold scarves and purple cloaks lined with silk.

The air had sharpened, turning our breath into clouds of mist each morning. By mid-day, the frost would melt and we'd sling our cloaks over our arms or race back to our dormitory to stow them back in our rooms. But soon, Florence said, the sunlight would wane earlier and earlier, the wind would become a howl, and snow would blanket the school.

It wasn't all bad though. We were only a few weeks away from our first real break from classes. For fourteen blissful days we'd be free from the bondage of books and parchment. There was even a special midwinter festival, Frostfire, which would be celebrated over the break.

Some students went home over the Wintermark break. But most tended to stay. The festivities for Frostfire were supposed to be worth it. Some years, visiting delegations from other schools in Sangratha would even attend–and Bloodwing would send their own delegations in exchange. But this year it would just be Bloodwing students. I wasn't sure exactly why.

Frost was still stubbornly clinging to the stone pathways as I made my way to the refectory one evening.

The vast hall was warmed by the glow of torches and the fires burning along the walls in two huge hearths. Supper was in an hour and students were slowly beginning to trickle in. I smelled hot cider and apples and cinnamon buns.

The normally austere space was gradually being transformed in preparation for the approaching Frostfire Festival. Dark green garlands of evergreen hung along the walls, dotted with bright red berries. Arrangements of pine and ivy had been artfully set as centerpieces on each long table. Scattered amongst all the greenery were little carved wooden ornaments of red birds, orange foxes, and other winter animals, their vivid colors standing out as bright splashes among the darker shades.

The effect was cozy, festive, and inviting.

On the far side of the refectory, a normally empty space had been set up with a stage. The Bloodwing Ensemble, the school orchestra and choir, were in the middle of a rehearsal for the upcoming festival.

I slid onto a bench at an empty table as music curled through the hall. In the first row of the orchestra, Naveen stood holding a flute. As I watched he lifted the instrument to his lips and began playing a delicate solo that made me think of a bird flying on a winter wind. Despite his modest size, Naveen had a quiet confidence. His posture was straight and his fingers nimble as they danced across the flute's keys. His melody faded just as the rest of the orchestra swept in, harmonizing with him to carry the song forward.

I pulled off my cloak and folded it up beside me, glancing around the hall. One of the House Drakharrow tables was nearly full. I saw Blake, Regan, Quinn, Theo, and Visha. They were laughing and talking. Well, all of them except Blake. He was staring down at the table moodily, his hands steepled in front of him. If he'd noticed me come in he gave no indication of it. Visha looked up, narrowed her eyes at me, then turned and said something to Regan.

I quickly looked away. Blake and I had been ignoring each other since that night we'd returned from Veilmar. And that was how I preferred it.

As for Regan, I knew I'd have to talk to her one of these days. But for weeks, I'd been putting it off.

I spotted Catherine Mortis on the far side of the room. The House Leader looked as if she was enjoying herself thoroughly. Her two thralls were seated on either side of her. If you could call it seated. The three women's bodies intertwined as they kissed and embraced, oblivious to the room around them.

For a second, I was unable to look away. They reminded me of a coil of snakes, writhing and slithering, their intimacy on full display without a care in the world for anyone watching.

Only someone with as much privilege as Catherine would feel so comfortable necking in the school refectory. I'd seen professors chide other students for much less. I seriously doubted any of them would approach Catherine, however.

Besides, I doubted Catherine was doing it for anyone's benefit but her own. This wasn't exhibitionist. It was simply entitled.

Catherine reminded me of Regan a little. But honestly, Catherine scared me a little more. Whenever I happened to pass her in the halls, she acted as if we were all beneath her notice. This was just one more example.

My gaze wandered away from Catherine to one of the tables reserved for students from House Orphos.

A young man was sitting alone, his eyes on the orchestra. Lysander Orphos. Naveen had pointed him out to me once briefly in the halls, but I'd never officially met him.

There was an ethereal quality to the House Orphos leader. In profile, his features were finely chiseled, even delicate. His long, silver-white hair was swept back, half up in a loose bun, while the rest fell in waves around his shoulders.

Lysander's focus was entirely on a girl in the orchestra who was playing the violin. The girl's eyes were closed as her bow glided over the strings. She, too, wore House Orphos colors. She resembled Lysander a great deal, though her features were softer, more delicate. I decided this must be Lunaya Orphos, Lysander's younger sister.

As I watched them, Lysander's gaze shifted and our eyes met. His own were a pale blue. He stared at me, completely uninhibited. But there was nothing threatening in his expression. After a moment, he inclined his head. I returned the nod.

It was a gesture of respect. Nothing more. But at that moment, I reconsidered the reputation of House Orphos. There was something about Lysander. He may have been quiet, even dreamy, but I didn't see either of those things as signs of weakness.

As the music reached its climax, the practice seemed to wrap up. Naveen packed up his flute, said good-bye to some of his band mates, then jumped off the stage and came towards me wearing a broad grin.

"Well?" he asked, plopping down across from me. "What did you think? Pretty dull, right?"

"I think you've made all of us other First Years look bad," I teased. "That was incredible, Naveen. Why didn't you tell us you'd been given a solo?"

He shrugged modestly, but I could tell he was happy I'd noticed. "Just lucky, I guess. The ensemble leader said I had a good ear for the piece. I guess I didn't mess it up too badly."

"It was beautiful," I said seriously. "Does Florence know?"

He shook his head, blushing slightly. "Not yet. I was thinking of surprising her. You know she's always in the library or staying after class when I have practice."

Unable to decide on a single course of study yet, Florence had done the unthinkable and committed herself to both. At least for now. Instead of choosing a strategist or healer path for the Wintermark and Springrise terms, she'd balked and refused to drop any classes. Instead she'd actually gotten permission to add more courses to her timetable.

As a result she now seemed to have a paper due almost every day and had taken to staying late after many of her classes to get extra tutoring from her professors. All of whom seemed to adore her, of course. Why wouldn't they? Florence was serious, studious, hard-working, and brilliant.

Whereas Naveen and I were, well, coasting through. Neither of us had failed any classes yet. We had midwinter exams coming up soon, but neither of us seemed too worried about them. Apparently the ones to panic over were the ones at the end of the Springrise term, just before the summer break. That was when the real culling would happen. At least a third of the First Years wouldn't be back next year, Florence had told me conspiratorially. If she herself was worried, she never let on.

As for me, if fighting Blake hadn't gotten me killed or kicked out, I somehow doubted flunking an exam would do so. Still, I wanted to do as well as I could. I might not have been as perfect a student as Florence, but to my surprise I found myself putting my head down and working harder than I ever had for any of my tutors back in Camelot. Any of them but Odessa, that is.

As I studied Naveen's glowing face, an idea was growing in my mind.

I wasn't sure I should risk putting it into words though.

I raised an eyebrow. "That's a nice idea." I paused, then added, "She's going to be so proud of you when she finds out. You're going to sweep her off her feet with that solo."

A flush creeped up Naveen's neck and I grinned.

"Florence already told me you're the only First Year to make it into the band, let alone get a solo."

Naveen put his face in his hands and groaned theatrically. "And now the real pressure's on. The Frostfire Festival is coming up fast. Soon there will be a lot more people listening to us."

"And one special person in particular," I prodded, my eyes twinkling.

He looked up at me with a guilty expression. "You've figured it out, huh?"

"It took me long enough, but yeah, I think so." I looked at him thoughtfully. "How long has this been going on, anyhow? You said you had a girlfriend before you came to Bloodwing."

"How long? I met Florence when I was eight."

I choked. "You've liked her since you were eight ?"

He shrugged, the blush returning. "More or less."

"Did you ever think of, oh, I don't know... Telling her that you like her?"

He shook his head resolutely. "Nope. Not happening."

I stared at him. "Let me get this straight. You'd rather go out with other girls instead of taking a chance and telling the one you actually like how you really feel?"

He nodded seriously. "Safer that way."

I rolled my eyes. "I take it your last girlfriend didn't exactly break your heart."

He grinned. "Nope. I might have broken hers though. She was hoping I'd turn down my invitation to Bloodwing and stay with her. So were my parents. They always hoped I'd stay home and wind up with a nice dwarven girl."

"But you wanted to go where Florence went?" I said softly.

He nodded. "I couldn't let her go alone." He paused. "And I won't risk our friendship for something so stupid."

"I wouldn't exactly call it stupid, Naveen. Not if you really love her." By the gods, listen to me, giving relationship advice as if I had any idea what I was talking about.

"Have you ever been in a similar position?" Naveen asked curiously.

I shook my head. "Definitely not. I mean there have been... people. Men. Sure. But they were basically just flings. I've never been in love."

Naveen's blush deepened. "I'm not even sure that's what this is."

"And you'll never find out," I teased. "Not if you never take a chance and tell her."

He looked away. "I've thought of telling her at the Frostfire Festival. There's a ball, you know. I'll be there as part of the ensemble. I know Florence will have permission to go. Her grades are certainly good enough. I was thinking of asking her."

"Yes, ask her," I said immediately. "I'm sure she'll say yes." At least, I hoped she'd say yes. What if Florence liked someone else? I decided I'd try to ask her.

"You can't tell her about any of this, Medra," Naveen said, as if reading my mind. "Promise me."

I nodded slowly. "Fine. I promise. I won't, I swear it, Naveen. But life's too short not to take chances. You've been waiting since you were eight. Why not just tell her and see what she says? What's the worst that could happen?"

"The worst that could happen is I'd be destroying the best and longest friendship I've ever had," he answered.

I laughed. But I could see he really was afraid. "I don't think Florence would end a friendship over something like that. Do you?"

"If I knew how she'd react, I'd have done it a long time ago," Naveen said morosely. "But I don't. It's a big risk." He looked around the refectory and sighed. "At least this year we're together as First Years. But next year..."

"Next year we'll all be in different houses," I said softly. "I get it." We wouldn't be seeing each other as often then. Unless we were lucky enough to all wind up together. "But then, isn't that the reason why now is the perfect time to tell her?"

"She has a lot on her mind. She's taking so many classes." He ran his hands through his hair, leaving half of it standing on end.

I hid a grin.

A shadow fell across our table. I looked up to see Regan standing there. Two highblood girls were with her. I remembered their faces from that night at the bonfire. Larissa and Gretchen. Neither had seemed like the brightest candles in the room.

"What's so funny?" Regan said with false sweetness. "Care to share?"

I stiffened, my good mood instantly draining.

Naveen glanced down at his hands, clearly not wanting to engage with the highblood girls.

But Regan and her friends weren't about to let it go.

"You know, Larissa," Regan drawled. "I think the little dwarf thinks his flute solo might actually impress someone. I mean, maybe if it was a show for children."

She and the other two girls laughed as if what she'd said was hilarious.

Larissa leaned down, icy blonde curls framing her pretty but cruel face. "Oh, Naveen," she cooed. "You're not seriously planning on embarrassing yourself in front of the entire school at the Frostfire Festival with that terrible solo, are you? I mean, I've heard dying cats sound better." She laughed loudly.

I suddenly remembered seeing Larissa in the ensemble. She'd been standing in the second row and also holding a flute.

"Naveen is more than ready for Frostfire," I said firmly, narrowing my eyes at her. "Unlike some people, he actually earned his place in the orchestra with skill."

I had the satisfaction of seeing my jibe hit home as Larissa's face flushed with anger.

Gretchen looked down at me, her lips curling. "So protective of the dwarf. Why? Are you two screwing? Blake won't like sharing with a dwarf, will he, Regan?" She laughed, but Regan, I noticed, did not. "But then, you must be used to having to look out for your little misfit friends. Especially since none of you will ever fit in here yourselves."

Gretchen's gaze passed over me with disdain, as if to say nothing about me was good enough to be in the same room as them. Then she looked at Naveen. "Better hope you don't wind up in House Drakharrow next year, dwarf boy. We don't tolerate losers like you."

I ignored her and looked up at Regan. "I liked you better that first day of class when you were pretending to be kind. Jealousy doesn't suit you, Regan. Maybe you and your friends should focus more on your own lives rather than trying to tear everyone around you down. We all have to work together here, you know."

Larissa and Gretchen gaped at me, while Regan's face flitted between anger at the "jealousy" comment to confusion.

"Well, isn't she a naive little thing?" Gretchen said finally. "Let's go, Regan. I don't want to be seen hanging around the loser table for too long."

"See you around, little blightborn bitch," Larissa said, in a sing-song voice.

The two girls started walking away. Regan began to follow. I was surprised she wasn't leading their little pack.

Maybe that was why I decided now was my chance.

Sliding off the bench, I stood up quickly. "Regan, can I talk to you alone for a minute?"

I looked down at Naveen. "I'll be right back," I mouthed. He nodded.

Regan hadn't acknowledged my request. But she hadn't walked away either.

She waited for me as I walked into the aisle, then started walking alongside her.

"What do you want?" she snapped. "Make it quick."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. I know the Consort Games are coming up."

She glanced at me. "Oh, you know that, do you? What else do you know about them?"

"I know we're supposed to work together," I said as calmly as I could. "To survive. That sounds pretty important, doesn't it? Survival."

She tossed her head. "I'll survive with or without you."

"Yes, but it doesn't have to be without me. We could help each other. Work as a team."

She narrowed her eyes. "I thought you didn't want any of this."

"If you mean Blake and being part of this little triad, then I still don't. But I do want to live. Don't you? Wouldn't we be stronger if we helped one another?"

She didn't respond. I watched her face. Was she considering what I'd said?

"I don't know all of the details of these Games, but we're clearly supposed to be proving ourselves. Won't it make you, you know, look better if we work as a team? Isn't that what Blake would want?"

Instantly, I knew I'd said the wrong thing.

Regan narrowed her eyes at me. "Why are you even still here, bitch ? You play at being one of us. Always trying to get Blake's attention. It's pathetic. Things were better between us when you weren't here."

I took a deep breath and tried to keep my temper in check. "Fine. I take it that's a ‘no.' But there's still time for you to change your mind. Think about it. We don't have to like each other to work together."

I turned and walked back to the table before she could say anything else.

I sank back down on the bench across from Naveen.

"You know, Naveen," I said slowly. "Sometimes I think this place might actually be growing on me."

He smiled sympathetically. "And then?"

"And then I have to talk to highbloods."

I looked around the refectory, at the blazing fires, the greenery on the walls, the chattering students. "I mean, if I'm being honest... I love Bloodwing more than I would have thought possible. But being around all of these vampires..." I shook my head, my mind going back to the terrifying encounter I'd had with the highblood man at the brothel. To the moment Visha had shoved dirt in my face and shown me her knife. "I don't know. Doesn't it just make you feel weak sometimes? Powerless? Gretchen was right. We'll never fit in. We're not meant to."

I half-expected Naveen to wave the highblood flag of loyalty like Florence usually did.

But instead he nodded. "All the time. Sometimes I think I made a mistake in coming here. Even if it was for a good reason."

"Was it just because of Florence?" I asked, curious. "Or do you really want to be a scout?"

"It was mostly for Florence," he admitted. "I could have stayed at home and been a scout for my own people. Dwarfs are blightborn, yes. But highbloods mostly leave us alone."

"You could still leave," I said. "No one would judge you. Well, I wouldn't. I'm sure Florence wouldn't either."

He shook his head. "You can't leave once you've been accepted. I mean, it's not like I really had a choice once I got the letter, even if my girlfriend thought I did. They would probably have come for me, even if I'd tried to refuse."

"They must have thought you had a lot of potential then," I said, trying to be optimistic. "If they wanted you that bad."

He shrugged. "Maybe. But they make mistakes, too. That's why so many First Years wind up getting kicked out. It's a make us or break us thing, the first year here. And sometimes I don't know if I'm going to make it."

I looked at him in surprise, suddenly wishing I hadn't brought up this subject. "Of course you are, Naveen. Look at you, you're doing great. You have a solo in the ensemble. A highblood is jealous of you. Jealous of a blightborn!"

"Maybe that should make me feel great. But honestly, I kind of wish they'd given the solo to Larissa," he said darkly.

"You don't really mean that," I said, shocked. "What would Florence say?"

"Florence is going to make it through the academy and be a brilliant highblood prize. She will always fight for them, Medra. No matter what she sometimes says. She looks up to them and always will." Naveen dropped his voice and leaned closer. "If she'd been in your position, she'd have been thrilled."

"What do you mean?" I shifted on the bench, suddenly uncomfortable.

"I mean she'd love to be a consort," he said sadly. "I'm sure of it. She wouldn't want someone like me. She has too much ambition for that."

"You could become a brilliant scout," I said loyally. "Like Professor Stonefist. For all I know I'm sitting across from the next Grimblade."

He gave me a wry smile. "Sure. But I doubt it."

"Don't be so sure, Naveen. You probably didn't think you were going to get into the Bloodwing Ensemble. Or get that flute solo," I said, suddenly losing my temper with him a bit. "But you did. Have some confidence in yourself. If you want to win Florence's heart, I promise you, that'll help more than anything else."

He studied me. "Maybe you're right."

"I am," I said resolutely.

I knew I was right. I was pathetically, pitifully right. I knew that from personal experience. Confidence was attractive. And arrogance? Well, it turned out sometimes that was even better.

Hating someone didn't mean you could take your eyes off them. Which was why I couldn't take my eyes off Blake Drakharrow even though I knew what an asshole he was. He was the walking, talking embodiment of highblood haughtiness. And I was the pathetic girl who'd been secretly sneaking glances at him this entire time.

He hadn't looked at me once.

Unable to help myself, I turned my head and glanced over at the Drakharrow table. It was mostly empty now. Only Blake and Visha remained. They were talking. Did it matter about what?

I sighed. "So, tell me more about the Frostfire Festival."

"What do you want to know?"

I shrugged. "I don't really know anything about it. Other than that you'll be playing a solo."

"That'll be the highlight of the entire festival," he joked.

"I'm sure it will be," I said, giving him an encouraging grin. "What else will happen?"

"You'd be better off asking Florence..." He started to say.

I cut him off with a groan. "That's what you always say."

He smiled sheepishly. "Fine. But I've never actually been to it."

"I thought Frostfire was celebrated all over Sangratha."

"It is. But I'm sure Bloodwing's traditions will be different." He looked thoughtful. "I know there's a feast. The Feast of the First Flame. Everyone sits down in the refectory for that on the first night of the festival. If it's anything like the one back home, there'll be visiting guests and performances. I'll be performing with the ensemble that night."

"What else?" I asked. A feast didn't sound so bad.

"There are some little traditions that they seem to do everywhere. Like ice sculpting contests. Things that are just part of winter. But I'm sure Bloodwing will make an even bigger deal out of them." He thought for a moment. "And then there's the ball."

I frowned. "A ball?"

He nodded. "You'll be expected to go, whether you want to or not. I'm pretty sure it'll be mandatory since you're a consort. For the rest of us, well, we don't have to go but we can be awarded the privilege. Though, for First Years, we can't attend unless we come with a partner to dance with."

"So you have to ask Florence," I said quickly. "Perfect."

He grimaced. "We'll see."

"Is there a theme to this ball?"

He nodded. "It's called the Dance of the Longest Night. It's held on the Winter Solstice."

"A ball, a feast, ice carving." I ticked them off on my fingers. "None of this sounds especially vampire-ish to me."

Naveen laughed. "That's why you should ask Florence about the rest." His face turned serious. "There is one part of it I just remembered that you probably won't like. But we'll all be expected to take part. Even back home, we'd do it."

My heart sank. "Oh? And what's that?"

When I got back to my room that night, I found a note that had been slipped under the door.

I unfolded it and read: "Dear blightborn bitch, go fuck yourself. I work alone. I hope you die a slow and painful death in the Games. I can't wait to watch. Love, Regan."