“And while you’re at it...” I drop my voice. “Promise us you won’t start taking any potions.” As I take a breath, fighting not to sink into memories of the bitter blue liquid and the pain it helped me escape,Meredy lightly touches the small of my back. Finding my voice again, I continue, “Nothing stronger than tea leaves, all right?”
“Promise,” Valoria echoes softly. She stands taller and adjusts her glasses as a hint of mischief flickers in her eyes. “That is, if you promise me you’ll both help me test out my new air balloon design whenever I get back to it.”
Exchanging a grin, Meredy and I agree. For the moment, at least, things feel normal between the three of us.
“Now that’s settled,” Danial says, craning his neck to get another glimpse of Nipper, who’s apparently still being chased by Lysander over the cheese. “Would anyone care to explain what that giant lizard is and where it came from?”
XI
We barely come within sight of the Temple of Change when shouts erupt from inside.
Recognizing at least one of the voices—there’s no mistaking Jax’s deep growl for anyone else’s—I run toward the large white stone building that, after centuries, is finally being scrubbed of crude drawings and random phrases. Its crumbling columns are in the early stages of being restored, the boards have been stripped from its once-sightless windows, and the creeping vines that covered it have been partially hacked away, allowing the harsh morning sun to pierce the building’s shadowed heart.
A crash echoes in my ears, a brittle sound like breaking porcelain, quickly followed by more voices joining in the shouting. I quicken my pace, breathing hard as I come within reach of the door, trusting Azelie and Valoria will catch up eventually—even if it takes a little longer for Valoria with her cane.
The guards stationed around the temple nod a greeting, but despite recognizing a few of them, I don’t stop to say hello.
As I grab the gilded door handle that resembles Change’s wizened face and push my way inside, a strange sight greets me: On an ornate carpet, surrounded by dusty bookshelves and the shattered remains of an ancient vase, Jax and another young man about his age sit across from each other, breathing hard. The stranger’s nose is bleeding, and Jax has a split lip, making his expression when he sees me look more sinister than welcoming.
Still, I run to him, past the curious stares of several boys and girls I don’t recognize, and a few adults as well. Dropping down beside Jax, I throw my arms around his work-hardened shoulders, wincing slightly as the dark stubble coating his copper skin brushes my cheek. My breath catches in my throat as he stiffens at my touch, and I draw back.
It seems I left a lot of damage in my wake when I went to sea.
“I’ve missed you,” I say anyway, catching Jax’s crystal-blue eyes with mine so he’ll know I mean it. He nods but doesn’t return my embrace, and my chest aches as I remember the way I used to fit in his arms at night—never quite perfectly, but close enough that I could pretend it was right and sink into him.
Movement out of the corner of my eye draws my gaze. A boy is helping the student with the bloody nose to his feet. “It’s not so bad, Karston,” the boy assures him. Touching his own face and grinning slightly, he adds, “Although, that shiner on your eye is even bigger than the one from when you went sleepwalking into the kitchen and got attacked by the frying pans last week.”
Karston turns his back on the boy, ignoring him, which is a lot kinder than what I’d do if someone was loudly telling embarrassing stories about me to a busy room. When Karston moves past a window, no doubt on his way to clean up his face, the sunlight catches on more blood glistening almost darker than his black skin. Just below one of his blue eyes is another injury sustained from a heavy fist.
I glance back to Jax in alarm, inhaling the musty scent of books from centuries past. “What did he do to you, anyway?”
Jax shakes his head, apparently lost for words.
It’s Simeon who answers as he hastily strides into view from around a bookcase. “Nothing that merited an old-fashioned ass-kicking from his teacher, that’s for sure.”
“Teacher?” I blink, more stunned than I was the first time I saw a dragon. If there’s one thing Jax loathes, it’s being responsible for other people. “Jax? You’re a—really?”
Simeon quickly closes the distance between us and kneels, pulling me into a fierce hug. He murmurs an explanation, keeping his voice soft despite all the commotion happening around us. “Since raising the dead is forbidden now, Jax and I are teachers here. Or, we’re supposed to be...” He sighs. “Valoria asked us to instruct people in the noble art of necromancy. Any age, so long as they have the desire to learn. We don’t have many students yet—”
“Of course not. This school isn’t exactly popular right now,” Jax interrupts, disgust for this view evident in his tone. “Why should anyone want to join our ranks when we represent the thing everyone fears most?”
He glances upward, toward the mural of Change that decorates the high domed ceiling.
“Karston joined, though. He’s one of us.” Simeon sighs, giving me a pained look as he ends our embrace and offers Jax a hand to climb to his feet. “So you can’t punch him in the face just because he’s getting on your nerves. You’re supposed toteachhim, not pummel him.”
“He doesn’t respect me!” Jax snarls, standing up unassisted and wiping the blood from his mouth with the edge of his black shirtsleeve. “Learning can’t happen without some respect between student and teacher. I’m sure Master Nicanor would’ve agreed.”
Simeon crosses his arms. “Your problem isn’t Karston. Your problem is that you don’t want to be here.”
“Damn right I don’t!” Jax turns as if to leave.
Simeon rubs his temples, like they’ve had this argument before and he isn’t in the mood to relive it. I stop Jax instead, roughly grabbing his shoulder. I don’t like the hurt look he’s put on Simeon’s face.
“Why not? Why don’t you want to be here?” I demand, though I think I know the answer. Jax must feel as lost as I do now that necromancers are no longer needed the way they used to be, and this place is a glaring reminder of that. When Jax says nothing, I lean into his space, my chest pressed against his. “Talk to me. Then you can storm off.”
“Fine, Sparrow.” Jax shakes his head, mutters a curse, then says, “I don’t know about you—actually, I do, and I’m sure you feel the same.” He leans closer, bowing his head so we’re almost nose-to-nose, like he doesn’t want anyone in the busy room overhearing us. “I can’t do the job I was born for, the job I trained half my life for. I couldn’t even protect Valoria from those Shade-baiters and the monster they set loose, not until we’d almost lost her. Lately, it’s like I’m completely useless.”
I wrinkle my nose. I’m still not happy with him for upsetting Simeon, but I understand what it’s like to feel helpless and lost. Unmoored. “I see your point. But there’s still work for you to do, like preventing any more Shades from being made by patrolling the gates and cemeteries—”
