Page 8 of In the Ravenous Dark
“You have nothing to fear, Rovan,” the captain says. “We just need to list your name in the Registry to establish your futurebloodline and assign you a guardian for your protection. It’s all for the best. Think how much good you can do for your fellow citizens, your king, once you’re able to use your magic in service of the polis.”
Guardian. My feet stutter to a halt before a column-lined hallway that cuts a wide swath into the center of the building. My father died to keep himself—to keepme—from the guardians. I’ve despised and dodged them every day since.
“Excuse me, I’m really going to be sick,” I say.
“I highly doubt—”
I double over and throw up on his boots. Red to match the vines splatters the pale marble of the floor with truly stunning range.
“Goddess,” Marklos hisses, abandoning his grip on me to back away. “I didn’t give you that much wine!”
“I told you”—I gag—“I was already hungover.” I spit up even more, hunching over between my knees, arms twisted painfully behind my back.
“She’s telling the truth,” Bethea murmurs somewhere behind me. “She had… a lot to drink last night.”
When I finally glance up with teary eyes and sticky lips, the man gives me a look that rests confidently between disgusted and disappointed. I’m fine with that. Used to it, frankly. And at least he isn’t trying to force more drugged wine down my throat. With any luck, there was only time for a partial dose to kick in.
“You,” he declares, “are disgraceful.”
“I know,” I blurt. “You’ve made a mistake. I want to be retested. I’m not a bloodmage, and I can prove it.”
The captain’s understanding smile isn’t comforting. “Of course. I was just about to have you tested again in front of the Ward Council to show them what I found. There’s your opportunity to prove me wrong.”
I try not to let anything show on my face as he drags me to my feet. Because I can fool him if I have another chance at the test… but I’ll need someone else’s blood to swap in place of my own. I’ve only ever used my mother’s. And yet I once saw my father rip a stranger’s life force out through her neck. Maybe I can borrow a little blood from someone else even if their finger isn’t pricked. But, without such easy access as a needle gives, it would take a subtle touch not to alert anyone, and I’m not sure I can manage subtlety in my drugged state.
If only…
There’s a cry behind me. “Rovan!”
It can’t be. That’smy mother’svoice.
I try to tear away from my captor. “Mother!”
I shouldn’t be so glad to see her. I should want my mother far away from all of this. But I want to fall into her arms as if I were nine instead of nineteen.
“Let me go,” my mother shouts at the two wards who’ve seized her with invisible sigils in the middle of the entry hall. “That’s my daughter!”
Marklos eyes her curiously. “Let her through. Perhaps we’ve found another unregistered bloodmage.”
“I amnot,” my mother spits, swatting a chunk of her frizzy, gray-streaked dark hair out of her face. She pushes through the crowd to me. The fact that she doesn’t comment on my appearance proves more than anything how worried she is. She must have sprinted here, by the sweat on her face. “Release my daughter.”
Captain Marklos smiles his unconvincing smile. “I will in just a moment, after she’s answered a few questions. Would you care to join us?”
My mother huffs and straightens her chiton. “Of course.” She meets my eyes. “You can test her, you can test me, and then you can leave us be.”
The captain cocks his head. “Do I know you?”
My mother draws herself up to her full, meager height. “No. Why would you? I have nothing to do with you lot. I mind my own business, keep my head down. I’m a simple craftswoman, a weaver, as is my daughter.”
He casts a disdainful glance down at the spray of my vomit. “A veritable artist, it seems.” He continues down the hall, dragging me after him. “We’ll see for certain.”
I have no choice but to stumble onward. “How did you know they took me?” I ask my mother out of the corner of my mouth. She’s by my side.
Her voice is tight, and her eyes dart around at our ostentatious, magic-infused surroundings. She’s clearly more frightened than she seemed a moment ago. “The man who sells fruit came to the house and told me. He saw… what happened.”
So even after the fruit vendor discovered I can wield blood magic, even after Ivomitedon his oranges, he still warned my mother. At least one person in the market doesn’t hate me—the one who has the most right to—and hopefully that means I can convince the rest of them that their eyes deceived them. At least long enough for me to depart for Skyllea and leave my mother in peace.
Maybe there’s still a chance I can get my life back. Never mind my dreams. The thought feels fragile, as if even considering it too much might break it.
