“I’m still here for the same reason I arrived, banshee. War is in my blood. You’d do well to remember who I am.”
“I know exactly who youwere, Ziveet.”
A fissure of power tingles through me when she invokes my true name. It’s a mere taste of what divinity is really like, but the memory isn’t welcome. If I lose what I am now, I’ll lose Briar, and that’s not a thought I will entertain.
I move faster than either female can track, leaping into the space in front of the headmistress. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t cower, not even when I’m in her face. “You have no concept of what Iwas.” I unfurl my wings, allowing her a glimpse.
The sound of the vampire collapsing to the ground behind me makes Syrinx jump, as does the pulse in her throat. Killing her now would be so easy. I think of all the ways I could torture her and let her see that emotion in my god gaze while keeping her completely immobile.
I want her to know she’s helpless and that her life is in my hands. “Every breath you take is a gift from me,” I remind her coldly. If I wasn’t governing how much of my true appearance she can see, the banshee’s mind would have already shut down just like the vampire behind me, but the fear in her eyes is decadent.
“I will be at the selection, Syrinx. I’ll leave it up to you whether or not it’s with the Ivy or against it.”
She exhales a shaky breath. “I want you by my side.” Her words are meant to appease me, but they are laced with a sense of self-preservation I doubt she could hold back at this point. It’s as grating as a gnat.
“Remember that the next time you think of subjecting me to your inquiry.”
The banshee nods once in agreement. I linger for a moment longer before reining in my power and allowing her mind and body to be free. The female stumbles back, nearly falling over her chair in a bid to get away from me. It’s a futile attempt, since the distance makes no difference to me.
When she’s pressed up against her bookcase, I turn my back on the female before sauntering out of the room. In a show of civility, I step over the vampire on the floor in the doorway instead of crushing her skull as instinct demands.
My hands shake when I leave the corridor. The selection begins tomorrow, and nothing will keep me from seeing Briar.
KAGE
Excitement mingled with nervousness makes me wish I would have skipped breakfast. My stomach is swirling more than Ziv’s eyes after he returned from his meeting with Syrinx. I wasn’tdumb enough to ask what happened. The air around him was charged with so much rage, there was no point in trying to talk to him.
Within a few hours of his return, whispers of another death, one I wasn’t responsible for, began circulating. Words likeeviscerated,bloodbath, andmassacrewere thrown around, along with the question of who it could be since all the novices were accounted for.
I knew who was dead, and I knew why, but that didn’t stop me from listening to every hushed theory put forth. Even now, while waiting for our transport to arrive, it still seems to be the topic of conversation, but I also understand why. It’s a welcome distraction from the uncertainty of what we’re walking into. There’s also the dark possibility that we will end up just like the splatters on the wall and piles of flesh left on the floor that can’t be ignored.
I meet Ziv’s eyes across the open field where he’s standing with the other instructors, save the headmistress. Something passes between us, an understanding of sorts that gives me comfort. I know no matter what happens to me, Ziv will find Briar and make sure she’s okay, even if that means protecting her and the wolf to do so.
I thought I would relish the day he was rendered useless, but I never really accepted that was a real possibility either. Now, I just feel sorry for him, or maybe I feel sorry for myself since we’ve both been replaced.
A sound off in the distance pulls my attention to the horizon. The shadow of a vessel comes into view. It isn’t until it’s much closer that I can make out the beasts hauling the thing through the air.
Nervous looks are exchanged between the novices. I’ve never seen a wyvern, only heard of the creatures that at one time flewamongst the dragons, but I can only assume that’s what the winged snake-like animals pulling the craft between them are.
Several novices step back as if they may run before the beasts can get too close, but fortunately, only one takes off in a sprint. He’s caught before he can reach the tree line by a guard who slices a sword through his belly, cutting the male in half with a single stroke.
Hot air blasts my face with every flap of wings until the air swirls with heat and a stench that makes my lips curl, but none of us dare move. The sound of their huffing grows louder, reminding me of the wild boars that roam the forest, nosing through the dirt.
The ground trembles as the wyvern rest the weight of the vessel in the center of the field, cutting off my view of the instructors.
Silence reigns until a horn blasts, alerting the arrival of Syrinx and her guard of eight. The headmistress’s robes are blood red and trail on the ground behind her as she emerges from the contingent of protection. The display is pointless, since no one is here but us and the wyvern, and they don’t seem impressed.
A gate lowers near the front of the vessel, and three figures step forward. They are covered from head to toe in hooded cloaks, making it impossible to discern anything about them. Syrinx waits for the figures to clear the ramp, then she steps forward to receive them. “The Ivy Institute welcomes you.”
The beings move with an eerie synchronicity, ducking their heads as one in response before parting to create a path for the headmistress to board the vessel, followed by her guard. Once the last of the eight men disappear, Ziv stalks toward the ramp, completely ignoring the three figures. The remaining instructors trail after the fallen, creating a long, single file line we are encouraged to join.
I pull my gloves off my hands before stepping onto the ramp. I hate the idea of being trapped on this thing as it sails through the sky, carried by beasts that look like they would rather eat us than escort us.
The interior of the vessel resembles a carriage, but on a scale that’s almost hard to comprehend, even while experiencing it. I don’t see any of the instructors or Ziv, but all of the novices are milling around the perimeter of the space. I find a dark corner and wait.
My heart rate picks up when the ramp closes without the three cloaked figures returning. “Fuck!” I mutter under my breath when the craft lists to the left, then the right. A few novices either drop to the floor or fall. I can’t blame them for doing either. I’m finding it hard to keep my own balance as my gut tries to fall out my ass.
The thick walls of the vessel don’t drown out the beating wings of the wyvern. Every whoosh serves as a visceral reminder that I’m at their mercy. I fight the urge to throw up when the front of the craft lifts, making it apparent we’re rising. Not being able to see allows my imagination to craft countless images, most of them ending with us being dropped out of the clouds to splatter against the ground.
