“I can understand how Dallas and many of the students would have difficulty accepting Rephaim,” Dragon said matter-of-factly.

“That is something you’ll have to take up with the Goddess.” Neferet’s voice traveled silkily through the crowd. Everyone turned to see her standing at the head of the hallway with Thanatos beside her.

“From all reports, the Goddess has spoken on the matter of Rephaim’s acceptance,” Thanatos said. “Dallas, you will simply have to adhere to Nyx’s decision, as will you, Sword Master.”

“He’s bein’ accepted just fine.” Stevie Rae sounded super annoyed. “Like I was tryin’ to explain, it’s Dallas who’s causin’ trouble, not Rephaim.”

“And that trouble will now end,” Dragon said. “I have made that clear.”

“You’ve also made it clear that you don’t want Rephaim here,” Stevie Rae said.

“Our Sword Master is not required to like each of our students,” Neferet said with a patronizing shake of her head. “His duty is to protect us, not mother us.”

“His duty is also to be fair and honorable,” Thanatos said. “Dragon Lankford, do you believe that you can be fair and honorable in your dealings with Rephaim, in spite of your personal feelings for him?”

Dragon’s expression was tight, his voice strained, but his answer came with no hesitation. “I do.”

“Then I accept that as your true and rightful word,” Thanatos said. “As should we all.”

“We should also all move on to second hour,” Neferet said sharply. “This has taken far too much of our time.” Her gaze rested disdainfully on Rephaim and Stevie Rae before she moved regally off, shooing kids before her. Dragon joined her, moving gawking students down the hallway like he was herding cattle.

“Can you see the Darkness that surrounds her and those other red fledglings?” I blinked in surprise. Stark was directing his question straight at Thanatos.

The High Council member hesitated and then slowly shook her head. “I have not trafficked with Darkness. It is not visible to me.”

“I can see it,” Rephaim said. “Stark’s right.”

“I can see it, too,” Stevie Rae said quietly. “It slithers around all of them like insects, touching them and constantly hanging around.” She shuddered. “It’s disgusting.”

“What about Dragon?” I asked. “Is it around him, too?”

It was Rephaim who answered me. “Yes and no. It is following him, but it does not wash against him like it does the others.” He sighed heavily. “At least not yet it doesn’t.”

“It’s not your fault,” Stevie Rae told him earnestly. “The choices Dragon’s makin’ right now aren’t your fault.”

“I’ll believe that the day he forgives me,” Rephaim said. “Come on, I’ll walk you to second hour.”

We said our byes and see-ya-at-lunches, but Stark and I didn’t go anywhere. We just stood there with Thanatos staring after Rephaim and Stevie Rae.

“The boy has a conscience,” Thanatos said.

“Yeah, he does,” I said.

“Then there is hope for him yet,” she said.

“Can you tell that to Dragon?” Stark asked.

“Sadly, that is something Dragon Lankford is going to have to discover for himself, if the death of his mate has not caused him to completely lose who he is.”

“Do you think that’s happened? Do you think Dragon has completely lost himself?” I asked.

“I do,” Thanatos said.

“Which means Darkness might be able to get a hold on him,” Stark said. “And if our Sword Master goes over to Darkness, we’re all gonna be in trouble.”

“Indeed,” Thanatos said.

Ah hell, I thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lenobia

There were some school days when Lenobia didn’t need the hour provided for each professor that was called their planning hour, which meant no students were scheduled in class with her for one solid hour.

Today was not one of those days.

Today her fifth hour planning period couldn’t come soon enough or last long enough. As soon as the bell chimed to begin fifth hour she made a hasty exit from the arena. An arena that was still half filled with male fledglings waving swords at one another and shooting arrows at targets.

“Give Bonnie the hour off,” she told Travis as she passed him. “But keep an eye on those fledglings. I don’t want any of them annoying the horses.”

“Yes, ma’am. Some of ’em think horses are big dogs,” the cowboy said, giving the group of fledglings a steely-eyed stare. “They ain’t.”

“I need a break from constantly watching them. I had no idea so many non-riding fledglings were fascinated by horses.” She shook her head wearily.

“Take your break. I’ll have a word with Darius and Stark. They need to keep better corral on those kids.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Lenobia muttered and, feeling surprisingly grateful that Travis was the one heading to lecture the two Warriors, she slipped out into the cool quiet of the night.

Her bench was as empty as the busy school building was full. The breeze had kicked up and was unusually warm for late winter. Lenobia was grateful for it, and for the solitude. She sat, rolling her shoulders and inhaling then expelling a long breath.

She wasn’t exactly sorry she’d welcomed the Warrior class to her domain, but the influx of fledglings—non-equestrian fledglings—was taking some getting used to. It seemed every time she turned her head an errant student wandered from the arena into her stables. So far just this day she’d found three of them gaping like young codfish at a broodmare who was perilously close to foaling and therefore restless and touchy and not in the mood for fish. The mare had actually tried to take a bite out of one of the boys who’d said he was just wanting to pet her. “Like she was, indeed, a big dog,” Lenobia grumbled under her breath. But that was better than the foolish third former who’d thought it was a good idea to try to lift one of Bonnie’s hooves on a bet from his friends so they could wager on how heavy it really was. Bonnie had spooked when one of the boys had yelped about it being a real big paw and the mare, completely off balanced and disconcerted, had gone down on her knees.

Thankfully, she’d been on the arena sawdust and not bruising, breaking concrete.

Travis, who had been overseeing a small group of her regular students who were learning about ground driving, had dealt with the two boys swiftly. Lenobia smiled, remembering how he’d grabbed each by the scruff of their collars and thrown them directly into a pile of Bonnie’s manure that was, as he’d said, almost as big and heavy as one of her hooves. Then he’d quieted his mare with a few reassuring touches as he checked her knees, fed her one of the apple wafers he seemed to always have in his pocket, and completely nonplused, had gone back to the group of ground-driving fledglings.

He’s good with the students, she thought. Almost as good as he is with the horses.

Truth be told, it appeared as if Travis Foster was going to be an asset to her stables. Lenobia laughed softly. Neferet was going to be sorely disappointed about that.

Her laughter died quickly, though, replaced by the stomach-rolling tension that had haunted her since she’d met Travis and his horse. It’s because he’s a human, Lenobia acknowledged silently to herself. I’m just not used to having a human male around me.

She’d forgotten things about them. How spontaneous their laughter could be. How they could take pleasure that felt so new in things that were so old to her, like a simple sunrise. How briefly and brightly they lived.

Twenty-seven, ma’am. That’s how many years he’d lived on this earth. He’d known twenty-seven years of sunrises and she’d known more than two hundred and forty of them. He would probably only know thirty or forty more years of sunrises, and then he would die.