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I’d already put her in danger once when I’d been targeted for being friends with Medra.

Dragons. It all led back to dragons, I thought in panic.

My heart pounded like a drum, and my palms were sweaty. My life had been saved in a deal with a dragon, but was anything worth this?

Sunlight streamed in through a huge arched window along the left side of the room. In the center, Regan sat behind an ornate wood desk. Each of the desk legs depicted a naked blightborn woman, their faces rapturous. Thralls. I felt sick at such a clear reminder of what the highbloods really thought of us. Of what even Headmaster Kim—a man I’d retained a modicum of respect for—had really thought of us. We were just objects to them, each one of us a potential thrall.

And then I stopped thinking about the desk as my blood turned to ice. Because Viktor Drakharrow stood to one side of it, leaning over Regan. They’d obviously been arguing, I could tell from the tight set of Regan’s shoulders, the flush of red in her cheeks, the way her lips were pressed tightly together. Now, as we entered behind Hassan, both of them looked up.

If Hassan was put off by the fact that she’d now be speaking not just to Regan but to the most powerful highblood in Sangratha, she gave no indication of it. In fact, as I glanced at her, I realized she looked even more pleased. She jabbed her cane in my general direction without looking at me, then stepped forward boldly, her eyes locking onto Regan’s. “I’ve discovered something you’ll wish to hear about, Headmistress.” Something meaningful passed between them, swift and wordless.

“I can see that,” Regan said coolly. “But you’ve interrupted a private meeting.”

“I assure you, Headmistress, my lord Drakharrow, you will want to hear what I have to say.” Hassan’s eyes moved to Viktor, as if assessing her chances of getting what she desired.

Viktor straightened, lifting black-gloved hands from Regan’s desk. He wore a heavy, long red velvet cape—a mantle fit for a king. But he wasn’t our king, he was a regent, one of four. Not that you’d ever know it by the way he acted. As Viktor’s red eyes landed on me, I wished the floor would open and swallow me whole. Would it really have been too much to ask? I could feel myself backing up, cowering, just like the girl Medra had been trying to protect. What was her name? Dani. I’d seen her before in one of my classes, I suddenly realized. Dani Parks. Her older brother went to Bloodwing, too; he was studying to be a scout. I wondered if he’d been in the crowd back there.

“We’ll hear what Professor Hassan has to say, of course,” Viktor said smoothly, his eyes sliding over to Medra. “After all, if the dragon rider is involved, it must be important.” He came around the desk, and I held my breath. But instead of approaching me, to my shame and relief, he went straight to Medra.

“Could this have anything to do with why our rider has failed to meet her assigned targets with you this month, Professor? Nyxaris has been sighted more than once over Bloodwing and the surrounding lands. And yet I don’t believe our rider has been seen once upon his back.”

Medra stared back at Viktor with a coolness I found admirable, not backing away or backing down. She said nothing.

Hassan inclined her head respectfully. “My Lord Drakharrow, this pertains directly to the dragon—and thus directly to the matter we’ve previously discussed.” She paused significantly, eyes shifting back to Regan. “Perhaps what I’ve brought you today could influence … other matters.”

Regan stiffened slightly. Viktor smiled faintly. “Yes, Professor. I remember our arrangement clearly. You have my full attention. Do continue.”

Hassan idolized him, I realized. Where I saw a monster, she saw something else entirely. In Viktor Drakharrow, she saw something truly divine: the Bloodmaiden’s image herself. But something else was clearly at play, though I wasn’t sure what.

“Go on, then,” Regan said coldly from behind the desk. “Say your piece, and get on with it. I have a school to run.”

“Nyxaris, the dragon.” Hassan paused, clearly savoring the moment.

“Yes, we all know the beast’s name. What of it?” Viktor demanded impatiently.

Hassan looked over at me and smiled gleefully. “You know a great deal, Lord Drakharrow. And yet, did either of you know this?”

I held my breath, waiting for the axe to fall.

“The dragon is not bonded to Medra Pendragon after all,” Hassan announced.

“That’s a lie,” Medra declared, moving forward before I could even think. “Nyxaris is mine. Everyone knows this.”

Hassan’s eyebrows arched. “Is it? I was there. In the hall just now. I heard everything.”

“I don’t know what you think you heard,” Medra countered. “But Florence never said that. Not once.”

Viktor was frowning.

“She said the dragon was hers,” Hassan argued.“I heard her clearly.”

“You misheard,” Medra said promptly. “But that’s no surprise. You were hanging back like a coward. You didn’t give a damn about the students turning into a mob right in the hallway. You could have defused the situation. But when that student tried to strangle me? You didn’t do a thing about it. Aren’t the teachers here supposed to at least pretend to give a shit about what happens to us?” She was being purposely melodramatic, trying to get Viktor’s attention, trying to keep it off me. I knew that. I also knew it wasn’t working.

Viktor paced towards me, his boots soundless. “There’s one way to easily clear the matter up,” he said lightly as his shadow fell over me, blocking the light from the window.

I forced myself to lift my chin and look at him. To look into those horrible red eyes.

“What did you say this girl’s name was?” Viktor said carelessly, waving his hand in Hassan’s direction.