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We looked at one another for a long moment. Then Medra nodded. “Thank you. I have never wanted to be your enemy, you know.”
“I think I’ve known that for a while now.”
She leaned forward. “Look, there are things happening—big things. I know Kage and Lysander are trying to protect you, but I think you deserve to know what’s been going on.”
My heart beat faster. “What do you mean?”
“Has anyone told you about the delegation from Thrazdummar?”
When I shook my head, she quickly filled me in on the dwarves, the meeting at the Sanctum, and much more. When she was finished, my throat was tight. “And Florence? How does she fit into all this?”
Medra’s face quickly masked. “We’re working on that. We’re not giving up on her.”
That was probably the answer I deserved. Still, I couldn’t help adding, “I tried to help her. I didn’t want to leave her behind.”
“I know.” Medra smiled briefly, sadly. “Kage and Lysander told us.”
“So why are you telling me all of this? What do you need me to do?”
She pulled out an envelope. Thick, expensive paper sealed with a black crescent moon. House Avari. She flipped it over, showing me where my name had been written in an elegant hand. “This came to the Drakharrow Tower for you.”
Obviously it wasn’t a letter from Kage. I took it and broke the seal; the letter was from Elaria. It started with praises and flattery, then the letter moved into a list of concerns—for order, for stability, for the restoration of highblood traditions. One line jumped out at me. It is absolutely essential you step back into your role as headmistress of Bloodwing Academy. I read the words twice, then skimmed the rest, catching phrases like restoring the proper hierarchy and protecting Bloodwing from the corruption of rebellious blightborn influence. When I finished, my skin was crawling. I folded the parchment back up. “Elaria. She wants …” I looked at Medra. “You already know what she wants.”
She nodded. “I didn’t read it, but I can guess what it says. Elaria wants you to be their weapon again.”
I thought of that first day, standing on the balcony beside Viktor with the blightborn woman in between us. “Elaria wants the old me. The one who could smile while she did horrible things in the name of tradition. But I can’t go back to being that. Some of that was really me, but I hope you know some of those things, I did … well, I did them because Viktor …” My throat felt choked.
“I know,” Medra said quickly. “We know, Regan.”
“That’s not who I want to be anymore.” I hesitated. “Do you think it’s too late?”
Something moved across Medra’s face. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. What you’ve already suffered.”
I wasn’t going to let her do that. “No. It’s not just about what I’ve suffered. I made people suffer, too. You know what I was like.”
“I know what you were like. But do I think it’s too late to be different? No, absolutely not. We can always change our fate.” She was quiet for a moment. “I have to believe that. But that girl you were? That’s who we need right now, Regan. We need who you used to be.”
I looked at the letter in my hands. “You want me to go back to being a bigot? A bully?” My throat felt dry. “Worse, a highblood pawn?”
“Not a pawn. We want you to be a tool. A tool of the rebellion.”
A trickle of hope ran into my heart. “Rebellion?”
“You weren’t there when House Mortis barred the doors of Bloodwing the night of the Veilmar attack,” Medra said quietly. “That night changed everything.”
She told me then how Avari, Drakharrow, and Orphos had opened their doors to students from House Mortis and evicted any students who harbored similar beliefs to Silvio Santos and his ilk.
“So you’re saying Quinn and Larissa and Gretchen …”
“All of those bitches are in Mortis now,” Medra said bluntly. “Will you miss them?”
Our eyes met. I smiled. “No. I won’t.”
She grinned. “Didn’t think so.”
I cleared my throat. “What about me? Where do I fit in?”
“You mean, are you still in Drakharrow?” Medra looked surprised. “You are if you want to be. You’ve been staying in the Avari tower all this time, so I guess Blake and I thought …”
