Page 83 of Bone Year

I have to ask him if he will help.

“We have a three-hour break until we have to report for ward hours. Want to come back to my room for a bit? I’ll help you relax.” Jace says, rubbing my shoulders as we exit the lecture hall.

I see the headmaster walking by himself across the courtyard.

This might be my chance. Instead of waiting and working up the courage to go to his office later, I can approach him now out in the open.

“Sounds great. Can you take my bag? I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

I hand Jace my satchel, and he nods, a question forming on his lips. Before he can ask it, I’m already moving, cutting across the courtyard and rounding the corner.

“Headmaster Ashmoor.”

He turns. His cloak whips around in the breeze, dark fabric snapping like a wing. His eyes land on me. Dark, narrow eyes that look like they’ve seen centuries pass and found them all disappointing.

His nose scrunches slightly.

I suddenly wish I hadn’t come over here.

But then I think of Nella and the necrosis creeping back across her wing. The fear she tries so hard to hide. The way she looked at me yesterday when I told her the venom therapy wasn’t working anymore.

I hurry the rest of the way to him.

“Miss Rose.” His voice is smooth, like he has all the time in the world and I’m an inconvenience he’s choosing to tolerate. “To what do I owe this...unexpected approach?”

My mouth goes dry. Up close, he’s taller than I remembered. The bits of red streaking through his dark brown hair catches the light. There’s something unsettling about the way he stands perfectly still, not a single unnecessary movement, like a predator conserving energy.

“I need to ask you something,” I spit out before I lose my nerve. “About a patient.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re a bone year barely a couple months into your training, and you wish to consult with me about a patient?”

“Yes.”

“How...ambitious.”

I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult. Probably both.

“Her name is Nella Thorne. She’s fourteen. She has a fissure wound on her wing from a riftling attack. The necrosis keeps spreading no matter what we try.” I’m talking too fast but can’t stop myself. “I’ve tried binding wraps and surgical extraction and venom therapy. The venom worked for almost a week, but now it’s coming back faster than before, and I don’t know what else to do. It feels like the healers have given up on her, and I’m the only one searching for ways to help this poor girl.”

He watches me without blinking. “And you believe I can help?”

“I read about blood mages.” I chew on the inside of my cheek. “About how they could follow corruption into the blood and burn it out from within. They could heal things no one else could.”

Something shifts in his expression so subtly I almost miss it. A tightening around his eyes, like I hit a nerve.

“Blood mages,” he says, “now there’s a term I haven’t heard a student speak aloud in quite some time, at least not directed at me as a request.”

“I know blood mages are rare,” I say quickly, “and I know you are busy and can’t personally help everyone, but I thought maybe you’d consider⁠—”

“Stop,” he says abruptly, startling me. “Miss Rose, let me be very clear with you. There is a reason I have survived as long as I have. It has nothing to do with saving vampire wings.”

“But you have the ability. You could⁠—”

“I could do many things.” His lip curls slightly. “I could level this courtyard with a thought. I could stop your heart before you took your next breath. I could do things that would make you weep with terror and beg for death. The question is not what I can do. The question is what I choose to do. And I choose not to waste my blood on a fourteen-year-old girl with a damaged wing.”

I gape, shocked.

“Nella is⁠—”