Page 6 of Blood Currents
“Mari, please,” Lucas called after me.“Whatever’s going on…”
But I was already gone, letting the crowd carry me, letting it become an excuse.I couldn’t do this.Not now.Not with the council’s lie still echoing in the air and the wellspring screaming beneath my skin.
I wasn’t going to sit quietly and let them destroy Keane the way they’d destroyed my father.I wasn’t going to pretend their lies were true just because speaking up was dangerous.
But first, I needed to figure out what to do next.And I needed to do it without dragging anyone else into danger.
Even if it meant pushing away the only real friends I’d ever had.
2
Cyrus
I was across campus tothe training gym before I could think better of it, my feet moving on instinct while my mind replayed the wreckage of the council’s performance.The emergency assembly.Alstone’s perfectly frayed grief.The clean, professional execution of Keane’s reputation.
The heavy bag waited in the corner like it had been expecting me.
I didn’t warm up, just drove a fist into the leather.
Fire licked my knuckles, gold edged in blue.Each strike cracked against the bag with controlled precision, heat bleeding out in measured bursts.Control—always control.I couldn’t afford to lose it.Not here.Not now.
The council’s lies.My father’s public support.The fear that rippled through the college.
Ember circled overhead, silent but watchful, his feathers flashing from amber to crimson as my magic spiked higher.He always came when I burned too hot, like he didn’t trust me not to set something on fire I couldn’t take back.
I snarled under my breath, driving another punch into the bag.How many other things had I accepted without question?My mother’s death.The vampire attacks.Even Father’s investigation.
Heat pulsed out from me in waves, the air shimmering faintly.I used to think fire meant clarity—that control was the same as keeping it caged.Now the flames curled blue at the edges, restless and questioning.
Lord Alstone was a traitor.I’d told my father that, and I’d thought he believed me.But he’d sided with him anyway.
I slammed my fist into the bag again, the impact ringing through the room.Ember trilled sharply from his perch, his feathers flaring bright red.I ignored him.I didn’t want to hear what he thought.
Keanewasn’ta traitor.I’d seen the silver light fighting through the corruption, seen him battle his own uncle.But my father—the man who’d never been wrong about anything that mattered—had stood there and condemned him anyway.
There must be a reason.
I punched the bag in rapid succession.
A few weeks ago, I would’ve burned half the academy to bring Keane back.Now I didn’t know who to trust—my eyes or my father.
Now doubt wormed its way through my gut.Was I even sure he even wanted to come back?
“Working off some frustration?”
I spun at the voice, my fists raised and heat flaring instinctively.Marigold stood in the doorway, dressed in skintight training gear with her honey-blonde hair pulled back.The shadows under her eyes made her look fiercer.
“Something like that,” I said, lowering my fists but not the heat.I turned back to the bag.“Didn’t expect company.”
“Figured I wasn’t the only one who could feel how staged that whole performance was.”
She moved to the weights, but I kept an eye on her.It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her.I did, more than most.
But when the lines between ally and enemy were so thin, I had to keep my eyes open.
We worked in silence, the tension heavy.I couldn’t help but notice her form: tight, controlled, deliberate.She was fighting her grief the same way I fought mine.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, that mattered.
