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“We’re high up,” he says. “Very high up.” He tucks me under his arm. “I’d say you get used to the thin air, but we won’t be here long enough for you to properly acclimate.” He turns me toward the base of the castle, nestled only a few feet away from the bridge.
A massive wooden door is wrought with iron, illuminated by burning torches that crackle in the late night. Zev tugs on Rain, smoothing his hand over his head before muttering, “you know where to go.” The horse snorts and then trots off the opposite direction, hopefully to a stable where he’ll be fed.
After watching Rain trot away, Zev walks to the main door, laying one hand on the wood, the other clutching his necklace. He closes his eyes, speaking some low words in a language I can’tunderstand. A bright white light bursts from his fingers, singing the wood for a moment before it clears.
Zev opens his eyes, turning to look at me.
They’re black, no sign of the gold anywhere.
The door groans open, light flooding us, the sounds of a brawl happening just inside.
“Welcome to the Drifter Academy.”
I blinkto adjust to the bright lights from the flames hanging from sconces along the stone walls or flickering on steel chandeliers hanging in the wide-open entryway.
Sticking close behind Zev and Jagger, I follow them deeper into the castle, the boisterous sounds getting louder the farther in we go. They lead me through a few stone hallways, turning left then right and right again before we end up in what looks like a giant dining hall.
Half a dozen jagged wooden tables sit in two rows, taking up the centermost portion of the room, a small raised dais at the focal point with another table and seven drifters sitting behind it, drinking and watching the loud brawl happening in the middle of the room between the tables.
It’s a four on three fight, with the other two dozen or so drifters hollering and chanting on either side as they watch the chaos. The stone floor is littered with chicken bones, some grilled root vegetable and spilled mead around the fighters.
Zev and Jagger don’t seem surprised or phased at all as they spare only a glance at the commotion, heading past them and straight to the dais.
An elderly female sits in the middle, flanked on either side by three equally mature looking males. Each one of them wearsa drifter necklace, along with the custom leathers and vest combination that is signature for their kind.
“Lugene,” Jagger says, dipping his head a little as he draws the female’s attention.
Zev does the same bow, and I consider it, but think better of it. Drifters are a tight-knit clan that I won’t even pretend to know the customs of. Better to do nothing than offend them. Especially when I’m the type of creature they usually hunt in the night.
My senses prickle with this thought, and I silently thank Aletha that I’m fully fed and energized tonight. I know they said it’s forbidden in the academy to try and take me, but I can’t help but stay alert. Still, I doubt Zev and Jagger would allow any of their drifter friends to try and claim their bounty as their own, but they’re only two males, after all.
Two powerful, incredibly irresistible males, but just two all the same. There are at least thirty drifters in here—male and female alike—and this is only one room in the massive Academy. Who knows how many are in training or asleep throughout the place?
“Jagger,” Lugene says, offering him what I can only assume is a smile. Her full lips are in a sharp line, but her rich brown eyes light up when she spots him and Zev. She pushes back some of her long silver hair, glancing behind them to me. “What are you two up to now?”
Zev shifts his weight, his muscles bunching beneath the fabric of his leathers as he reaches into his satchel, pulling out six blood-stained necklaces.
The move has the room falling silent, and even the brawlers have gone still.
Lugene scoots back from the table, her brow furrowed as she makes her way around it and down the steps to where we stand.She takes the necklaces from Zev, sniffing them before her lips curl.
“Balan and his crew?” she asks.
Zev nods.
“By your hand?”
“And mine,” Jagger offers.
I’m only slightly sad I can’t offer my inclusion as well. I would’ve loved to have torn into those drifters, but the damn silver had rendered me useless. Still, I wouldn’t trade the memory of Zev’s hand punching through Balan’s chest for anything else in the world.
Lugene tilts her head, eying me again. She nods to the end of a table on the main floor, a few of its benches vacant. “Come,” she says, heading that direction. “Let’s talk.”
A soft hum of chatter returns, the silent bubble broken as we follow her and take a seat at the table. Zev sits next to Lugene on one side, and Jagger sits with me on the other. The rest of the drifters in the room go back to eating and drinking and talking. Thankfully not fighting, since it’s distracting to no end.
“I held no love for Balan,” Lugene opens up the conversation. “But this…” She lays the necklaces down on the table between us. “What could’ve merited this?”
Shame slithers beneath my skin.
