And there was no doubt that the spirit taking over my limbs right then was Dyre of Ha, an accomplished blade whisperer if I’d ever seen one. The professors and staff alike gaped at me as I flicked my wings out and smashed Trubble in the face, knocking him back several steps.
“You little shit,” he ground out, blood pouring from his nose as he came at me. Whereas Dyre was working to make his brother hurt, it seemed like Trubble was actually taking care not to hurt me. We spun and danced, like nobles on the royal ballroom floor, our weapons clashing, the wood cracking with the force of our swings. I felt dizzy, disconnected, physically free from my clumsiness and my short stature and my lack of muscle. In that moment, I felt like I could do anything, protect myself from anyone.
The longer and harder I fought, the louder the crowd became, until they were cheering and goading us all on. I wondered how many of the spirit whisperers knew that I was possessed? Or how many of them had ever experienced the strange, weightless fluttering of having a ghost inside of them.
Trubble ducked under a downward slash that Dyre threw all my weight into, the wooden sword cracking and breaking in half against the floor. Instead of rising to my feet—my first instinct—the Vaennish prince threw us forward in a roll, spun, and then cracked his poor brother in the jaw with the hilt of the word.
His twin cried out and dropped his own sword, hot red crimson blood pouring out of his lip and down his face. Dyre must’ve been as surprised as I was because in an instant, he’d fled my body and faded away into the background to keep himself hidden from the other spirit whisperers in the class. I doubted it was his intention to do quite as much damage as he’d done, but holy ship, that was a lot of blood.
“Brynn of Haversey!” the blonde blade whisperer boomed. The fact that he knew my name was a surprise, but then, I was guessing that Jasinda must’ve told him. I dropped the broken bit of sword and clamped my hands over my mouth in shock. Trubble lifted his fingers away from his lips, stained with glossy red, and then gave me a smirk with his cut lip that made him grimace. “When there’s an assignment, you wait for instructions and you sure as shit”—cringed a little at that one—“don’t make our classmates bleed from the face unless you’ve damn well been told to do so.” The man sighed, his teeth slightly more pointed than Air’s, giving me some indication that he was at least part huldra. “Take him to the infirmary and get a flesh whisperer to check him out—and just be glad that I’m not giving you a slash for that nonsense.” The man paused and stared at me with lavender eyes, surprise brimming in his pale irises. “That was some seriously impressive swordplay; you’ll be moved to level six for the rest of the quarter.”
The professor—I was pretty sure his name was Jeremiah—walked away, mumbling under his breath.
Meanwhile, I ground my teeth together and wished Dyre were visible so I could tear him to pieces with my glare.
“Come on,” I growled at Trubble, wrapping my fingers around his wrist and yanking him along behind me. Jasinda scurried to catch up—handlers and spirit whisperers were not allowed to be separated. For all intents and purposes, Jassy and I might as well have been bound together the way I was bound to the ghosts and the shadow fox.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Elijah grumbled as he and Spicer kept pace with the three of us. “Dyre, you prick,” he continued, turning his attention in what I could only assume was the prince’s direction. If I’d wanted to, I could’ve activated my second sight and looked for myself, but why bother? At least this point, I didn’t want to see the asshole. Nah, I wanted to punch him right in the nipple.
“You do realize that you’re going to have to do what the rest of the quarter now? Or else I’m going to get my butt handed to me on a daily basis.” We stormed across the cobblestones and down the road—the Royal College streets were shaped like an infinity symbol—toward the large white and yellow stone building that housed the infirmary.
There was another infirmary in town, a much better one, so any critical patients were simply stabilized and taken back into New Akyumen, but that wasn’t to say this one was lacking in any way. It was considered the fourth best hospital in the country.
“Excuse me?” I said, moving across the gray and white marble floors. A woman appeared from the back, dressed in a professor’s uniform with full epaulettes on her shoulders. She cringed a little at Trubble’s bloody face, checked us in, and then led us down a hall to an empty room.
“I’ll wait here!” Jas called out, sitting down in one of the lobby chairs and pulling out some of our hour five homework, homework that I hadn’t even started yet. Oops. But knowing my handler, she’d probably do it for me anyway.
The receptionist left us in a small room with a marble slab for a table, a sterile cloth to staunch Trubble’s bleeding, and a glass of water that she forced him to take a sip of before she’d leave.
“You owe me an apology,” I said as Dyre faded into view in front of me, Airmienan standing by his side. The Amerin prince flicked the Vaennish prince an angry glare and raised his chin in a haughty, arrogant sort of way.
“You’re a guest in this country, try to remember that, will you?” Air snapped, but Dyre was just staring at me and his brother with copper eyes and a deep frown etched into his features. Once again, I was being used by ghosts and spirits and shadows—and I didn’t like it one cursed bit. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
Suddenly, I was just desperate to see Vexer, hold a living person close to me and breathe in his skin.
“I don’t know what came over me,” Dyre said, hanging his head in shame. He reached down to his belt and unhooked a small mask that I hadn’t noticed before. It was a near perfect replica of, well, of his brother when Trubble was in that form. Dyre slipped it over his face, his purple and white tail swishing behind him.
“Whatever it was,” Trubble said, sounding stuffed up from all of the blood, “I forgive you.” I took a moment to look between them, trying to decide if Trubble was being sarcastic or not. “You’re upset. You’re dead. And you miss me, I get it.” The living twin hopped down from the table, removing the cloth from his face and spattering the floor with red. When he embraced his ghostly twin, I just about died.
That’s actually kind of … cute?
Crossing my arms under my breasts, I waited them out until Trubble pulled away and Dyre was left to face me again.
“You don’t need that class,” he told me with all due seriousness. “I’ll teach you to fight. Give me a chance, and I’ll make it up to you. You’ll be the only spirit whisperer in the kingdom who’s actually able to defend themselves.” Dyre swept a dramatic bow, and then rose up to his full height, swinging his katana onto his shoulder and then disappearing just before there was a knock at the door and a flesh whisperer stepped into the room.
All my spirits faded—even Eli and Spicer—leaving me with a bleeding, living boy.
The flesh whisperer had Trubble sit on the edge of the table and then carefully laid her fingers against the sides of his face. The bee of jealousy in my belly started to go a little crazy, and I clamped a hand over it to keep it quiet.
“Hold my hand?” Trubble begged. “I’m so scared.” He sounded anything but scared, more like he was asking me to climb into bed with him. But I stepped forward anyway and let him clasp his fingers around mine as the flesh whisperer did her work, the scent of her magic so similar in smell to Trubble’s blood that the entire room became tainted with the stink of copper.
As bad as his injuries were, it only took her a couple of moments to fix him up.
“You’re welcome to head home and bathe before you return to class or you just can clean up in here, whatever you want,” she told him, passing over two small gold cards that we could give to the professor of our next class to explain our tardiness. Well, that I could give to my next professor; Trubble wasn’t even a student here.