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Blightborn murders … There was a time when such a thing wouldn’t have been so shocking. Highbloods used to hunt with abandon, and it was accepted. They were superior to us, after all; they deserved everything—apparently, even our lives. But there was no reason for it. Not when they had thrallweave. Not when they could simply take what they wanted without killing. It made no sense.

“The highblood was killed,” Evie said. “If that’s what you’re wondering.”

I blinked. “They were?”

She nodded. “He went after three other people in the village, including another highblood, before he was stopped. A group of highbloods took him down.”

I felt oddly relieved. “If he went after his own kind, then it must have been madness. A fluke. A terrible accident.”

Evie shrugged. “Maybe.”

“What do you mean?”

She turned, as if to go. “I mean this isn’t the first story I’ve heard like this.”

I stared. “More murders?”

“Highbloods murdering blightborn—and other highbloods—for no real reason. Highbloods who had gone … berserk.” She’d lowered her voice, but the other highbloods around us were listening in. They didn’t seem shocked, however. Clearly they’d heard this rumor before. “I’ll see you around, Shen. I’m going to talk to Kage.”

I watched her go, remembering that she was Kage’s Second now, then gave Neville a little boost in my arms.

A highblood boy approached me, Andrew, a Second Year. He was in one of my classes. “That fluffin.” He looked at Neville curiously. “He’s yours?”

“Sort of,” I said cautiously. “He’s not really anyone’s.”

“My sister’s always wanted one as a pet. They’re hard to find these days. I wonder if I could take him home. If he’s just roaming around the school, I mean.” Andrew leaned forward, reaching out a hand to pat Neville’s head. Before he could finish the gesture, Neville growled. The boy quickly yanked his hand back.

“I’m not sure Neville likes that idea. And now that I think about it, he does have an owner,” I lied. “Blake Drakharrow.”

“Blake?” Andrew took a step back. “I didn’t know that. He lets you what—borrow him?”

“Something like that,” I called over my shoulder, already marching towards the staircase. “Good night, Andrew.”To Neville, I whispered, “Don’t worry, no one is going to take you home with them.”

Neville gave another little growl, as if to say I’d like to see them try.

“Besides, you don’t really belong to Blake or to me, do you?” I murmured.

He is his own person. Not a pet.

Neville made a highpitched yipping sound as I jumped.

You need to stop doing that, I complained. It’s called eavesdropping.

A pause. Very well. Good luck.

I frowned, realizing Nyxaris knew exactly what I was about to do. Thank you, I said reluctantly.

You rode well today. And then he was gone.

I sighed and raised my hand, knocking on the door gently. Then I waited. Wondering if she’d open it. Wondering what I’d see in her eyes when she did.

The door flew open. Medra stood there, her red hair loose around her shoulder and extremely fluffy, as if she’d just been brushing it. I glanced down, and sure enough, there was a silver brush in her hand.“Florence!” And then her arms were wrapped around me, she was pulling me inside, and we were both talking at the same time.

“Nyxaris! I couldn’t believe he—”

“I know! And when he—”

“Did you see the look on her face before he—?”