Chapter Twenty-Two
In Mr. Stanton’s class, everyone gave Jaxon a wide berth. Whether it was his actions or the scowl, which seemed permanently etched on his face, Bryn wasn’t sure. He avoided eye contact with her, which she didn’t really mind.
“Class,” Mr. Stanton spoke from behind his desk, “we are going to practice transferring Quintessence from one plant to another. On a theoretical scale, this mimics how medics heal. Later, if you choose to study Quintessential medicine, you will practice on one another. In my class, you will work with plants. We don’t want anyone to sustain an accidental injury.” He passed out small potted ferns.
Clint and Ivy sat at desks next to Bryn.
“I sucked at this the last time,” Clint said.
“Watch me.” Ivy touched the leaves of her plant. “I’m visualizing drawing the green color from the plant.” The plants leaves darkened and turned brown. Then she touched the other fern. “Now I’m imagining pouring the green into this plant.” The fern perked up, sending fronds out in all directions.
“You’re really good at that.” Bryn held her hand above the plant and concentrated. Nothing happened. She closed her eyes and focused on feeling power flow up from the fronds. When she opened her eyes, the plant hadn’t changed.
“Crap.”
“And you want to become a medic,” Clint teased.
“You try it.” Bryn pointed at his plant.
“Fine.” Clint cracked his knuckles and then touched the leaves of his plant. Lightning crackled from his palm, shattering the clay pot and spilling dirt on the desktop.
“Looks like we both suck at this.” Clint scratched his head. “Now what?”
Ivy held out her hand. “Give me your ferns.”
Clint did as she asked. Ivy drew the life force from the donated plants and infused her fern with Quintessence, almost doubling it in size.
Bryn shoved her plants to Ivy and watched as Ivy transferred the Quintessence and caused the plant fronds to twist and bend so they curled back on themselves creating a heart shaped topiary.
“We should find out if you could help with the decorations for the Valentine’s Day dance,” Clint said.
After class, Bryn and Valmont headed toward the library. “How can I heal a person but not be able to do the stupid plant transfer?”
“You can’t be great at everything. You have your gifts, and Ivy has hers.”
He was right. “That’s a mature way to look at it.”
When they entered the library, a Red guard stopped them. “Miss McKenna, your grandfather would like a word with you. He’s in the archives.”
For a split second, she thought about accepting this directive at face value, but the moment passed. “I don’t mean to be rude, but the last time I blindly followed one of my grandparents’ employees, someone tried to kill me, so could you ask my grandfather to come upstairs?”
“I understand your concern, but I cannot leave my post.” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed, explaining the situation to the person who answered. Then he passed the phone to Bryn.
“I require your assistance in the archives, Bryn. Bring your knight and that sword you commissioned for him with you.”
“Yes, sir.” She started to pass the phone back to the guard. “I don’t suppose I could keep the phone.”
“No.” The guard plucked the phone from her hand and pocketed it.
“It was worth a shot.” Bryn headed for the front desk.
“How do you know it’s him?” Valmont asked.
“He said something only he would know.”
When they reached the trap door, Valmont frowned. “I’m not sure if I should go first or guard your back.”
His high alert status seemed a bit like overkill. “You can go first. I can roast anyone who sneaks up behind me.”
“I don’t like this.” Valmont held his sword at the ready and descended the staircase. They reached the landing with no issues. A pair of guards stood in front of the open door. They waved Bryn and her knight through.
“There you are.” Her grandfather waved her over to wall where the secret door should have been. “Open the door.”
“How did it end up closed?” Bryn asked.
“The guard inside didn’t come out at his appointed time.”
Crap. That couldn’t be good.
Valmont held out his sword. Bryn gritted her teeth and slid her thumb down the ice-cold blade. Her blood rolled down the sword edge toward the wall and the door became visible.
One of her grandfather’s guards yanked the door open. Inside, the room looked much cleaner than Bryn remembered it. Books were shelved. The dust and cobwebs were gone. The glass cases gleamed. The old oak table had even been polished to a shine. It would have been an idyllic scene if only a guard wasn’t lying on the floor foaming at the mouth. Bubbly spittle dripped down his chin as his body twitched and his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Call a medic,” her grandfather ordered.
“I don’t suppose he’s epileptic?” Bryn said, knowing the answer.
“That is a human disease,” her grandfather replied.
Maybe she could help. Bryn crossed the threshold into the room.
“Don’t,” her grandfather warned.
“I’m going to see if I can help with Quintessence,” Bryn argued.
“Freeze.” Valmont’s fear sounded real. “Back up slowly.”
Okay. The hair on the back of Bryn’s neck stood up. Something was really wrong. She retreated toward Valmont. When she was back over the threshold of the door, she noticed he was staring at something beyond her in the room.
“What’s going on?”
“Your knight has a keen eye.” Her grandfather pointed at the wall next to where the man lay. Small silver darts were embedded in the bookshelf. “I’m guessing the poisonous darts that hit him are lodged in his back.”
“Poisonous darts? From where?” She scanned the room and noticed an open display case. “Do you think he took something from the case?”
“Something not meant for him,” Valmont said. “Do you remember what was in there?”
“Daggers,” Bryn said. “I remember seeing them last night. They were etched with different elements like your sword.”
“So the displays are booby trapped,” Valmont said.
A chill ran down Bryn’s spine. “We need to shut that case before someone else is hurt.”
One of the guards stepped forward. “Sir?”
“It has to be me,” Valmont said. “The artifacts are all meant for knights.”
No way. “How do you know they were meant for a hybrid knight? What if that case held items only the knight of a Black dragon could touch?”
Valmont paused. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Footsteps rang out from the outer foyer. Medic Williams dashed into the room.
“Stop,” Bryn’s grandfather said. “The room can be lethal.”
Medic Williams looked around wide-eyed. “Good to know, but how can I treat the man if I can’t reach him?”
“Do you think those darts could puncture dragon scales?” Bryn asked. “I could shift and grab him.”
“No,” both Valmont and her Grandfather shouted at the same time.
“Fine.” Bryn held her hands up in surrender. “What’s your idea?”
“I believe if we shut that case, the room will be safe.” Her grandfather pointed at the medic. “Gently use your wind to shut that door.”
The medic produced a small twister in her hand and stretched it out across the room, nudging the door closed.
A sound like gears grinding drifted through the room.
“Did that case just reload?” Bryn asked.
“Probably.” Her grandfather waved his hand toward the man on the floor. “I believe it is safe for you to treat him now, although he might be past the point of help.”
The man on the floor was no longer twitching. The spittle foaming from his mouth had turned a reddish pink. His eyes staring up at the ceiling were milky white.
“Damn it.” She should have tried to help him.
The medic performed a quick examination and then rolled him over. “He was past help sixty seconds after these darts lodged in his back.” She pulled a phone from her pocket and spoke to someone about body bags. The fact that she used the plural of the term made Bryn wonder if more deaths were expected.
“The dagger.” Valmont pointed to silver knife etched with fire, which had been under the man’s body. “Should I try to return it to the case?”
“Does it speak to you?” Bryn asked.
“It’s whispering like the sword did. I think that means I can handle it without being attacked.”
“The case reacted to someone removing an item. In theory, putting one back should be safe,” her grandfather said.
“Or he could keep it,” Bryn said. “Since he is attuned to it.” She liked that idea a lot better.
Valmont retrieved the dagger and weighed it in his hand. “Mr. Sinclair, what would you like me to do?”
Her grandfather appeared pleased with Valmont’s question. “Replace it in the case.”
Not the option she would have chosen. Bryn bit her lip as Valmont found the mechanism that opened the glass. He replaced the knife and closed the door. No deadly darts appeared. Although the weird gear-grinding noise happened again.
A second medic appeared with the requested body bags. Bryn turned away. This wasn’t something she wanted to witness.
Valmont walked around so he was facing her. He looked at his watch. “Basic Movement will end in ten minutes. We should go to lunch if your grandfather doesn’t require your assistance.”
Bryn turned to her grandfather. “Do you still need me?”
“You may go. I’ll warn the guards that they aren’t to remove anything from the cases.”
“How do you know the books are safe?” Bryn asked.
“We don’t,” her grandfather replied. “But Miss Enid wears gloves when she works with them.”
That didn’t seem like enough of a safeguard, not that anyone asked her opinion. If touching the books was safe, was the information inside of them harmless? The symbol she’d seen in the book before it had crumbled was the same symbol tattooed on the dead boy’s wrist in Dragon’s Bluff. To her grandfather, that symbol meant treason. The fact that Bryn had found a drawing of it tucked away in her mother’s secret hiding place made her think it hadn’t started out bad. Perhaps, it had once been a symbol of free-thinking. After the attacks on innocent people, though, it definitely meant something deadly.
“There’s something I forgot to mention about one of the books. The one that fell apart when I touched it.”
Her grandfather glanced at the medic. “Let’s talk over here, so we aren’t in the medic’s way.”
Worked for her. Valmont followed along, and her grandfather didn’t object. Once they were across the room, Bryn said. “The page I tried to turn had the same symbol the dead boy had on his arm in Dragon’s Bluff.”
Her grandfather’s eyes narrowed. “And why are you just telling me this now?”
“I wasn’t keeping it from you. In all the excitement of finding the room and calling you to make sure you had a chance to investigate before Ferrin, it slipped my mind.” That should earn her some bonus points. “Plus, it disintegrated so there wasn’t anything to show you.”
“It’s good you remembered and that you shared the information with me.”
Bryn breathed a sigh of relief. Interactions with her grandfather could be exhausting.
“You should go to class now.”
“Can I ask you a question first?”
“I may choose not to answer, but you may ask.”
“In the book, family names were listed by the different symbols of the elements. Was there ever a time when that mark didn’t mean treason?”
“Originally it represented the elements, but a group of rebels repurposed it to mean dragons who fought against the status quo, against the Directorate.”
“So that book wasn’t necessarily bad?” Bryn asked.
“No. It was more than likely a ledger where family traits were recorded. I don’t have to tell you not to share any of this information with your friends, do I?”
“No.” That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to share with Clint and Ivy. One other thought bothered her. “What about Jaxon?” Not that she felt the need to share with him, but she knew he would ask. “He’s persistent, and sometimes it’s easier to share with him just to make him go away.”
Valmont said something under his breath she didn’t quite catch, but she bet it wasn’t complimentary.
Her grandfather actually grinned. “It’s good that you’re coming to understand one another.”
“You have no idea how frightening that concept is to me,” Bryn said and then laughed because she didn’t want to tick her grandfather off.
He patted her on the back. “In time you’ll become formidable political partners much like your grandmother and I. Feel free to share with him what you wish, but I advise you to always keep a few details to yourself. Most of what happened here this afternoon will go into a report, which Ferrin and the other Directorate members will read tomorrow morning. So Jaxon will hear about this through his father.”
“Is there always a bit of espionage between the Directorate members?” Bryn asked.
“It’s what makes life interesting.” He checked his watch. “I’ll make your teachers aware of why you missed class. You’d best be on your way to lunch.”
By dinner everyone on campus had heard of the guard’s death, but they were divided on how he died: a giant ax beheaded him, a sinkhole opened up and swallowed him, or a sword from one of the cases slayed him.
“With every stupid rumor I hear, my opinion of my fellow students declines.” Bryn sat in her dorm room on the couch with Ivy while Clint and Valmont sat in the wingback chairs. She’d waited for them to be alone to discuss what had really happened in the archives of the library. “Just so you know, you have two choices. I can share the real story with you, or you can be happily ignorant.”
“Everyone knows a guard died. It’s how he died that’s in question,” Clint said.
“Right,” Ivy said, “so I think it’s safe to tell us.”
“Okay, here we go.” She shared the manner of the poor man’s death and the details about the lethal display case, but not the existence of the secret room or the bracelet.
Ivy pursed her lips in thought. “I guess the moral of the story is, if you come across a random display case, do not attempt to open it or remove any of the pretty, sparkly objects inside.”
“I can’t believe it was booby trapped with poisonous darts.” Clint shook his head. “Who knows when those darts were placed in the case? What type of poison is good for decades like that? The whole thing is seriously messed up.”
“Agreed.” Valmont sat with his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He glanced at Bryn. “Can I tell them about the sword you commissioned for me?”
Was he asking if he could share the truth with them? They already knew about the cases. “Sure.”
Valmont drew his favorite new toy and held it up so the light reflected off the blue and red metal intricately worked into the sword, depicting frozen flames and fire. “I retrieved this from one of the cases.”
“You could have been killed,” Clint said.
“No. It was meant for me. I mean a knight like me who was bound to a Red-Blue hybrid dragon. I could hear the magic of it calling to me.”
Ivy pointed at Valmont. “That is so cool. I know you met Adam and Eve, so you know there are hybrids on campus, but the sword is proof hybrids existed in the past, and it wasn’t a secret. Do you know how old it is?”
“If the Institute wasn’t on lockdown,” Valmont said, “I could ask one of the metalsmiths in Dragon’s Bluff to examine it.”
It had never occurred to Bryn that someone in Dragon’s Bluff was still making swords. Back in her old life she’d heard of people buying all sorts of ninja swords and throwing stars online but she’d assumed they had been made in a factory somewhere.
“Speaking of the lockdown,” Ivy said, “I wonder if they’ll lift it any time soon. There hasn’t been an attack on campus in a while, except for the guard, of course, but that’s kind of a separate thing.”
A voice in Bryn’s head urged her to speak. “If anyone is waiting to attack, the Valentine’s Dance is the perfect opportunity.”
“No. It’s not.” Ivy glared at her. “Repeat after me. The dance will be wonderful. We will all have a fabulous time.”
Bryn rolled her eyes. “Fine. The dance will be wonderful. We’ll all have a great time.”
“Not exactly what I said, but close enough.” Ivy grinned.
Later that night after her friends left, Bryn asked Valmont a question that had been bothering her. “Do you think someone will attack the dance?”
“They might,” Valmont said. “They could attack at any time. On any given day they could attack the dining hall at lunch or gym during Basic Movement. Students congregate in groups all the time, so I don’t think the dance is any more dangerous than sitting right here, right now.”
“I’m not sure that makes me feel better.” And then she remembered something she wanted to share with him. “Telling my grandfather about the symbol in that book today reminded me of something I found at Sinclair Estates.” She went to her room and retrieved the legends books her mother had secreted away in the attic. Valmont would probably tease her about the books, which told stories of dragons from different Clans who fought side by side and fell in love with one another. The star-crossed romances were a big part of the books’ appeal. And there were a few scenes she would be embarrassed to read if Valmont were in the room. A small part of her heart ached at the memory of her first kiss with Zavien. He’d teased her about reading the books, too. She’d refused to let him read them because he’d make fun of the romance. It was hard to reconcile the Zavien who’d saved her when she’d been poisoned with the one who’d lied to her about the dance and led her on, talking about a future he knew they’d never have. Anger, embarrassment, and guilt banked the fire in her gut.
Wow. She’d thought all of that was in her past, but her first kiss with Zavien was a powerful memory.
“Bryn, is everything all right?” Valmont called from the living room.
Her subconscious was playing whack-a-mole with her emotions. Other than that, everything was just peachy.
She returned to her knight, who would never leave her side, even if he wanted to. Not that he wanted to, but her brain seemed intent on pointing out how strange her life had become.
Time to ignore her past and concentrate on the future.
Funny how The Days of Knights books hadn’t featured more than a chaste kiss between a dragon and a knight. And that thought brought her to a full stop when she was within a few feet of the couch. What if they didn’t include anything else because nothing more was supposed to happen between them?
“Bryn?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, weird random thoughts are ambushing me.” She laid the books out on the table. “My mother had these stashed in a secret hiding place along with my father’s picture.” Bryn’s breath caught and her eyes grew warm. Taking a deep breath, she laughed. “Sorry, I’m not sure why this is getting to me tonight.”
“You never have to apologize to me for mourning your parents.” Valmont grabbed her hand and pulled her to sit beside him on the couch.
He didn’t need to know those weren’t the only memories bothering her. She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Anyway, these are like the legends books Miss Enid gave me from the library which contain stories about a time before the Directorate when dragons were allowed to fall in love based on instinct rather than by Directorate-sanctioned arranged marriages. I’ve read other books, but I never looked through these.” She ran her fingers over the cover of the closest book. “Not that I expect to find anything in them except dog-eared pages, but I thought you could be here with me when I look through them. It’s not something I want to do alone.”
“Of course. Do you want my help?”
It’s not like she could tell him no. “Sure.”
They each selected a book. Bryn flipped through the pages, looking for random notes or drawings or doodles or any clue her mother had touched the pages.
Halfway through the sixth chapter, she noticed the page felt oddly loose. Maybe the binding was coming undone. Inspecting the book, she held it up to the light and saw what looked like the shadow of a handwritten note. “That’s strange.” She held the page between her thumb and index finger, rubbing them back and forth to see if she could detect any indentation on the page. Part of the page separated from the binding and opened like a leaflet.
“What’s that?” Valmont asked.
“Good question.” What had seemed to be one page was really a singular piece of paper folded in half. The outside held the typewritten story, but the inside portion, which was hidden, held handwritten notes, which Bryn read out loud.
“I’m not sure how much longer I can wait. Ferrin grows more obnoxious by the day, demanding we share every meal in the dining hall. It grows harder and harder to slip away to see Ian. There is the constant worry someone will discover us and turn Ian over to the Directorate. If that were to happen, I fear my father would have him thrown in jail.”
“Do you think your grandfather would have had him thrown in jail?” Valmont asked.
“Yes.” There was no question in her mind. “I can’t believe my parents were brave enough to run away. Makes me feel like a traitor for working with my grandfather.”
Valmont’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I have a question to ask you, but I’m afraid of what your answer might be.”
She tried to lighten the mood. “Should I repeat my grandfather’s snooty you-can-ask-but-I-may-choose-not-to-answer response?”
He looked down as he spoke. “It’s probably not fair of me to ask this, but if you still had family in the human world, would you choose to return to it, leaving everything behind?”
“No.” The word shot out of her mouth without her even having to think about it. “I could never just walk away from you. Don’t you know that?” She touched his cheek.
He lifted his head meeting here gaze. “Thank you. I was worried you’d run away in a heartbeat if you could have your old life back.”
“Nope.” She leaned closer and pressed her lips against his in a quick kiss and then leaned her forehead against his. “My knight. We’re a package deal.” A funny question popped into her brain. “If I had to leave, to run away, would you go with me?”
“I left Dragon’s Bluff to come stay with you, didn’t I?”
He had, and yet that wasn’t the answer to her question. If war broke out and her grandparents sent her away, not that they’d do that, would he go with her? Of course he would. What am I thinking?
She sat back and smiled at him like her subconscious wasn’t shooting out strange questions meant to drive her crazy. “I think everything that has happened over the past few days is finally catching up with me. My mind seems to be spinning in circles.”
“It’s my experience that most problems in life can be solved by one of three things: good food, good friends, or a good nap. I know you’re always up for food, I’m here for you as your knight and your friend, and this couch happens to be my favorite place to take a nap. So you choose.”
“I want to see if there are any more notes hidden in this book, and then I vote on taking a nap with my knight—with a snack later.”
Bryn flipped through the pages of the book, holding them up to the light. Every other chapter, there was a hidden page which she never would have found if the first one hadn’t been loose. Reading her mother’s journal entries made her heart hurt. Every entry was about how much her mom loved her dad and the rising fear that someone might find out about them. The notes of Ferrin’s obnoxious behavior proved the man had changed little over the years.
Valmont had held the pages of the other books up to the light, but no secret messages were revealed.
“Do you think my mom bought this journal somewhere and hid it among the other books?”
Valmont rubbed his chin. “The books themselves were frowned upon because they go against Directorate-sanctioned marriage. It makes sense the same people who produced them might create a journal where people could write down anti-Directorate thoughts.”
“Maybe I’ll ask Miss Enid if she’s ever heard of any secret journals.” Bryn hugged the book to her chest. “But showing my mother’s secrets to the world doesn’t feel right.”
A sense of sadness rolled over her like a fog. “I think I’m ready for that nap now.”
“Works for me.” Valmont kicked off his boots and lay down on his side.
She lay with her back against his chest so his arm wrapped around her waist. His solid warmth was reassuring. It helped her feel less alone in the world, like he was her family now.