Page 51 of Darkbirch Academy

“Lead the way,” he says finally, his voice rough with anticipation.

I take his hand, pulling him toward the alley’s entrance where shadows wait to embrace us. His fingers are warm against mine, and for a brief moment, I feel an unexpected twinge of—not guilt, exactly, but awareness of the line between manipulation and cruelty. I push it aside. Mazrov is not an innocent. He’s a senior guard at an institution that has systematically persecuted my kind for generations, and who personally attacked my brother.

As we step into the darkness of the alley, his grip on my hand tightens slightly. Perhaps some instinct warns him even now. But it’s too late. We’ve already passed the first of Dayn’s carefully placed runes, invisible to the naked eye but humming with dormant power.

Just a few steps more.

26

The trap lies ahead, ancient runes carved into the cobblestones beneath a thin layer of dirt and grime, invisible to anyone without the knowledge to see them. I guide Mazrov forward, my fingers intertwined with his as if we’re nothing more than a pair of lovers seeking privacy. The weight of his trust is almost tangible—a misplaced faith that will shatter in moments. Above us, the narrow strip of night sky between buildings seems to darken further, as if even the stars sense what’s coming.

“It’s quieter here,” I murmur, stopping at the exact center of Dayn’s carefully prepared trap. The cobblestones beneath our feet conceal binding runes that have waited patiently, dormant but eager. I turn to face Mazrov, placing my free hand against his chest as I step backward, positioning him perfectly.

“You’re still nervous,” Mazrov observes, his voice softening as he misinterprets my calculated movements for hesitation. “There’s nothing to?—”

The runes activate the instant his boot crosses the final boundary. Amber light erupts from between the cobblestones, shooting upward in a perfect circle around him. The sudden illumination transforms the dingy alley into a stage for what’s to come, casting long shadows against the brick walls on either side.

Mazrov’s reaction is immediate—and far from human. His eyes flare with that unnatural blue fire. The memory of Jax falling to his knees in agony burns hot in my mind as Mazrov lunges toward me.

“Binding activated,” Dayn’s voice echoes from the shadows, a note of satisfaction evident in his tone.

I spring backward, narrowly avoiding Mazrov’s grasp. His fingertips graze my cheek, slicing through the glamour I’ve maintained all evening like a blade through silk. I feel the magic unravel—my carefully constructed persona dissolving in an instant. The alluring stranger who flirted with him at the tavern melts away, revealing what lies beneath: my true self, Esme Salem, darkblood and enemy.

I relied on glamour instead of contact lenses to change my eye color to green tonight, so now he sees my red-flecked irises.

Mazrov freezes, his face transforming as recognition dawns. The lingering desire in his gaze hardens to hatred so quickly it’s almost comical.

“Darkblood,” he snarls, the single syllable dripping with venom.

His hand extends toward me, fingers splayed in an unnatural position. Something invisible and cold slithers through the air between us. Even from a distance, I feel it seeking the edges of my aura, trying to find purchase in the very essenceof my being. I instinctively brace for the agony I witnessed in my brother’s eyes, the terrible draining sensation that had left him helpless. But the pain never comes. Instead, Mazrov’s expression contorts with confusion as his attack collides with an invisible barrier—a barrier that pulses with a faint amber glow wherever his power touches it. His attack disperses like water striking hot metal, hissing and evaporating into nothing. Dayn’s boundary runes aren’t just containing Mazrov—they’re protecting me.

I drop all pretense. “Nice to meet you.”

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he hurls himself against the barrier, his body crashing into the invisible wall created by the binding runes. The impact sends ripples of amber light cascading through the air, but the containment holds.

“I wouldn’t bother,” I say, circling him slowly. “Those are binding runes. Ancient magic, predating your precious Academy’s understanding.”

“They won’t hold me,” Mazrov growls, his voice deepening to something that echoes unnaturally in the confined space.

“Perhaps not indefinitely,” comes Dayn’s voice as he steps from the shadows at last. “But they’ll hold you long enough.”

Mazrov’s attention snaps to Dayn, and I witness a new emotion flash across his face—something beyond rage. Betrayal. “Professor?” Confusion momentarily overrides his anger. “You’re working with... this?” He gestures toward me with undisguised disgust.

Dayn approaches the glowing circle with measured steps, his hands weaving complex patterns in the air. With each gesture, the amber light intensifies, reinforcing the magicalbarrier. His eyes have begun to shift from amber to molten gold, betraying the dragon within.

“Not everyone at Heathborne is as loyal to your cause as you believe, Mazrov,” Dayn says. “Some of us remember the world before the schism. Before darkbloods were hunted for the crime of existing.”

“You’re a traitor,” Mazrov seethes.

“No,” Dayn replies matter-of-factly. “I’m considerably older than your Academy. My loyalties predate its existence.”

A sharp pulse emits from his barrier, and the next thing I know, Mazrov lies crumpled on the ground, unconscious but still breathing. The blue fire in his eyes has been extinguished, leaving him looking strangely human and vulnerable. His body occasionally twitches, as if fighting some internal battle even in unconsciousness.

I feel a swell of satisfaction, of relief… but I’m also keenly aware of how deftly Dayn has just disabled a deadly threat to my kind.

He turns to me. Light from the activated runes casts shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheekbones. His gaze locks onto mine with an intensity that is both familiar and inscrutable. An involuntary shiver runs through me as I realize his eyes hold a hunger I’ve seen before… like back in the greenhouse when I bled. At other fleeting, yet equally unsettling, moments during our so-called alliance thus far.

“Every dragon has scales they don’t show, just as every witch has spells she keeps unspoken.”His words come back to me. And I’m reminded that the last thing he’s done tonight is protect me. He’s merely protected himself—and whatever his agenda truly is.

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