“Roslyn, wait!”
But she was gone.
I touched my forehead, the thoughts weaving together in my mind and forming an impossible scenario.
I threw open the door to Kalmont’s tower, storming into the room.
He was there, standing by a tall window, looking out into the dark abyss.
“What do you know about my mom?”
I stood there, my fingernails cutting into my palms and sweat dripping down my forehead.
He didn’t turn.
“You still have not pieced it together then,” he said.
“Pieced what together!” I shouted. “That you freaks are some kind of wanna be vampires? I got that, but honestly, I don’t care unless it has something to do with what happened to my mom!”
He finally faced me, his eyes glassy and dark, so that their true color was masked.
“Don’t say that word,” he said. “We do not use it around here.”
I twisted my face incredulously. What was he talking about? Vamp?—
“You are still weak,” he said, cutting through my thoughts sharply. “This renders you incapable of understanding.”
“Weak?” I said. “You think I’m weak?”
A chill gripped me like death itself had taken hold of me, splintering my bones and the thoughts trying to form in my mind.
Ezreal moved like a sentinel across the room, pausing before me, his head turning enough to cast an irritable side-glance my way.
“Try to avoid the dungeons from now on,” he drawled, looking at my blood-stained shirt. “It is a shame to waste such fine wine.”
I looked at my shirt; the red stains were still bright but with a notable difference in thickness. I touched it, lifting my finger to my nose, and breathed in a sickly-sweet aroma that reminded me of black licorice. My skin was still numb from the deep, cold tremors still wracking through my body.
“This w-was blood,” I stammered. “It was blood.”
I stared at the innocuous stains across my shirt.
Ezreal looked away as if I were no longer interesting.
“Malakai likes to play games,” he said. “You should learn to tread more carefully, Initiate.”
Ezreal crossed the room and opened the door, his message clear.
I left the room with no intention of ever returning.
I went straight to Roslyn’s room without knocking. I found her at her desk, staring at the wall, motionless.
“Ezreal was the one who hid Cody’s scroll,” I said.
She didn’t look at me. “I know. Blake told me. That’s why I went there to talk to him about tonight.”
My jaw dropped.
“And? He… hit you?” I asked but saw no sign of the wound on her lip.
