Page 57 of Burning Heir

He called after me, but I was nearly halfway down the hallway.

Death. I choked my next few breaths of air down, using the stone columns to keep me upright. I needed to focus on combat next. I couldn’t afford to be dizzy. Not when nearly my entire class had earned a sword. Cain sensed quells. Had he felt that bond between me and Naraic and that forbidden cure that rose him from his grave?

My spine groaned against the pillar, eyes glazed on the narrow hall leading to the foyer. I’d willed death, life. I wasn’t sure. Afew students wearing silken robes passed me. I was nameless, another spectator gasping for breath. I listened to the deep flutters of wings echoing through the stained-glass windows. Spring heaved through, collecting me as I found my senses, one by one. I pushed open those iron doors and headed toward combat.

My stomach whirred with heat as I met up with Malachi leaning against the railing outside. She shoved a quill inside her riding leathers, her fingers stained with ink smudges.

“What were you writing?” I asked.

She pursed her lips, her eyes softening. “Don’t be mad, but I sent a letter to your mother. Knox gave me your address. I wanted her to know Astoria was in good hands.” There was another letter behind the one she wrote—the same golden parchment we received during the sanity trial.

I lifted a brow. “I’m not upset. She’d love to know her dragon went to someone with a kind heart.” I glanced at the golden letter. “Is that the trial letter we received?”

She half-hugged my waist as we walked to combat together. “Oh, yeah,” she said, an awkward breath tumbling past her lips. “Tell me what your mother is like?”

And I struggled with what to say. Who was Fallon? But I knew the woman who raised me, and I told Malachi all about her. I told her how my mother lost her sight, knitted all our clothes by hand, and made the best potato and beet soup. That was all I knew. I never knew the version she did—the one who rode a wyvern and was stripped of the death quell.

But the more I found out, the more I felt like I knew her—hidden in disguise with a faux frosted coat. The lies she’d spewed for years. Was it lies? Was not knowing of her forbidden power considered a lie?

The wind dragged through us. “You’re lucky to have a family,” she said softly. “I would love to meet your mother one day.”

“We could fly back during Winter Solstice when we have our holiday. It’s the most beautiful time to visit,” I said.

Malachi grinned. “I’d love to.”

I should have asked about her siblings. I should have wanted to know more about Malachi and her family. I sensed that soft part in her, but I couldn’t for some reason.

We reached the combat grounds, and my heart dropped when I saw Bridger and Damien pinned against each other.

Summer and Winter.

Bridger struck two icicles in each palm, raising them above his head and throwing them toward Damien—whose hand grabbed both mid-air. Damien threw the ice at his feet with a loud, primal grunt as glass whirled around him, shoving a dozen spheres at Bridger’s chest.

Bridger cursed, “Not so small of pieces, man. I don’t want to spend the next day picking shards out of my arm.” Frost coated his fingers, trailing down his elbow.

Damien countered each of his moves, always one step ahead. “Come on, Bridger. You can break a helpless first-year’s wrist and torment her for days, but you can’t fight someone your size?”

My cheeks flushed as I watched them speak about me. But… I never told a soul about that.

Malachi nudged me. “You should know Damien wins every round.”

I rolled my eyes. “He can’t win every round.”

“We both know what you are doing,” Bridger hissed. Three icicles grew within the frost. “This is hardly fair.” He glared at the combat professor, then aimed those three daggers at Damien’s heart.

I clenched my jaw as Damien dodged the ice with a quick shift. “And what is it that I am doing exactly?” He cocked his head to the side.

“You’re a filthy mind reader. Turn off your quell, and let us see how well you fight,” Bridger spat.

Mind reader. Had I heard that right?

Damien mentioned he had two quells. Flame churned in my guts, and I thought I’d hurl ash if I moved. I glanced at Malachi, whispering, “Did you know?”

“We’re allowed secrets, Sev,” she said. “Now you understand why Damien always wins. I’m guessing he pretended to get to know you?”

For a heartbeat, I wondered what Damien knew. But he shrugged at Bridger, not tuned into the tornado of my mind.

“And why would I do that? Your mind is interesting. Fuck, you love replaying that memory of her for me.” Damien hissed and pinned him to the ground with his boot over his throat. “Shall I break your neck? I’m sure the healer is up for a challenge today.”

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