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Neville was still squirming in Brocklin’s grasp. I was terrified the highblood would squeeze too tightly and break the fluffin’s tiny neck. I let out a choked sob, reaching slowly for the dagger hidden at my thigh—the one Medra and Professor Stonefist had insisted I start carrying, even though I was terrible at handling it. I suddenly wondered if Regan was armed. Did a highblood girl like her even need to be?

Nearly there, Nyxaris vowed.

Neville’s terrified yap sliced the air again as Brocklin’s grip tightened. The web of veins beneath his skin seemed to crawl, moving, almost as if something were burrowed there.

“Regan,” I sobbed, “we have to do something.”

Nyxaris’s roar thundered in my skull. Hold fast.

A scarlet blur rushed past me as Regan moved first. She crossed the space between us in a heartbeat, her skirts whipping around her legs, making me wonder how much faster she might have moved if she hadn’t been hindered. She held one shoe in her fist. Angling it downwards, her hand flashed out, the stiletto heel punching through Brocklin’s wrist with a wet, cracking sound. Bone gave way, and Neville tumbled free.

I dove as he scampered towards me, catching him and cradling him against my chest. “Neville!”

Brocklin howled—his voice sounded neither highblood nor blightborn. He moved towards Regan, fangs bared, swinging his good arm. Regan was swearing, the heel of the shoe she’d used dangling uselessly, broken. She dropped it, hefting the other, and drove the heel into the soft meat beneath Brocklin’s jaw. Viscous black blood ran out, dripping to the stone. Brocklin wobbled but stayed standing.

“Florence, run!” Regan shouted, never taking her eyes off the other highblood.

I am here. Shield your eyes and get back, Nyxaris commanded.

“Regan!” I screamed. “Get back! Nyxaris is here!”

But it was too late. The ceiling above us exploded in a boom of mortar and stone. I staggered back as ancient beams sheared apart, and slate rained down like hail.

A wedge of night appeared overhead. Nyxaris forced his head through the gap he’d created, ember eyes burning hot, smoke curling from his nostrils. Brocklin had slowed after Regan’s second attack. Now he looked up at Nyxaris, clearly confused and enthralled. Regan seized the opportunity and, screaming like a warrior on a battlefield, she vaulted forward, clutching her stiletto like an ice pick and driving it into the soft hollow where neck met skull. Brocklin lifted his arms, flailing pathetically, wet black blood spraying. I gagged as a foul smell wafted towards me.

Nyxaris roared aloud, the sound shaking the hall. Get the girl back. Now.

“Regan!” I shouted.

Heat began to flood the hall. Regan’s eyes widened. She dove forward, driving both her palms into Brocklin’s chest and hurling him towards the ancient suits of armor. He slumped against them as she darted away, her skirts twisting beneath her. The heat became flame as Nyxaris struck, a cone of fire spreading from his jaws, brief but blinding. As the flames guttered out, Brocklin disappeared. All that remained was a smoking pile of ash and a heap of melted steel. Regan pushed herself to her feet. She came towards me, face pale.

“Regan,” I whispered, stepping forward, Neville still clutched in my arms. “You’re hurt.”

Her eyes lifted to mine, wide and suddenly filled with something very familiar: fear. “Brocklin tried to bite me.” There was a tremor in the words.

Whatever this is, it cannot withstand dragon fire, Nyxaris murmured grimly. Yet take no chances. Cleanse her of his blood—and yourself, little fledgling.

But I barely heard him. Regan started to stagger. “Regan,” I gasped, trying to clutch at her with one hand while holding onto Neville with the other.

A black and silver streak rushed past. Kage. He caught Regan before she could hit the floor. Blood coursed from Regan’s scalp. One of the falling stones must have hit her when the ceiling caved in.

I watched Kage press a hand to her slick hair. Then he looked up at me, his face grim. “Shen, report.”

I gulped at the uncustomary command but did as he asked, speaking quickly. “I was coming back from the library. I heard Neville. He sounded scared. I found Brocklin—” I glanced at the pile of ash. “I found Brocklin standing over him, threatening him. Regan arrived. And then, Nyxaris arrived—” I tried to catch my breath.

“Right,” Kage said, his voice like ice. Mere hours ago, this man had been my betrothed. Now I hardly recognized him. He was my House Leader. No, more than that—he was a highblood commander ready for war. “We’re heading back. Are you armed?”

“I have a knife strapped to my leg, but I’m holding Neville, so I don’t know how I’d use it,” I babbled.

And you have me, Nyxaris reminded me grimly.

“Nyxaris says he’ll stay with us.”

“It won’t help us if he knocks the ceiling in again. He could kill us all,” Kage said shortly.

I swallowed hard, nodding. “Where are we going?”

“The Avari Tower. We’ll take her to our infirmary.” He frowned, looking around the hall. “Something’s wrong in the castle tonight. I can smell it.” I glanced at him curiously. Of course I knew highbloods had heightened senses, and Brocklin had certainly had … a stench.