Were these people really my future friends? The students I’d be spending the most time with?

I glanced at Regan. Her silver hair swayed gently as she walked. She’d called us practically sisters. Was that what we were going to be?

I’d never had a sister. I was an only child.

Having a sister might have been nice. But I wasn’t sure I wanted one who was also a vampire.

I gave myself a little shake. It didn’t matter. Because these people weren’t my family and I couldn’t start thinking of them that way even for a second. I couldn’t let my guard down, no matter how nice they were to me.

They used people. They fed from them. I wasn’t quite sure how the enthrallment process worked but it sure didn’t sound as if it was voluntary. It might have been a superior alternative to death, but it was still essentially... well, slavery. Wasn’t it?

The halls around us were quiet. I checked my timepiece. Nine-fifteen. We still had plenty of time.

“So,” I said, tentatively. “History of Sangratha, right?”

Regan looked over at me and smiled encouragingly. “That’s right. It’s just around this corner.”

I couldn’t help feeling a little relieved to hear that. This might have been a vampire school but I still didn’t want to be late. What would Florence say, after all?

I expected to see students lined up in the hallway but when we turned the corner and Regan led me over to a wooden door, there was no one outside.

“Well, you’d better go inside. Everyone is probably in there already, choosing their desks,” Regan said, brightly. “Unless you want me to stay with you? I don’t have class until ten this morning.”

“No, that’s all right,” I said, hurriedly. “I’ll be fine.”

She smiled reassuringly at me and then, to my shock, leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek.

“You’ll do great. Don’t forget what I said. Ask Professor Rodriguez about dragon healers when you get to Restoration. I won’t be around to take you to that class, but you should be able to find your own way. Ask one of the other First Years to help you. If they’re clueless, find a warden or a Second Year. I’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

I nodded. “Thanks for all of your help, Regan.”

Her expression softened. “Like I said, consorts have to help one another. See you later... Sister.”

I watched her walk away. I wasn’t quite ready to call her sister yet, but I could admit I might have been wrong in my initial judgment. She’d obviously been having a bad day yesterday. But she’d been protecting Blake. Doing what she’d been trained to do.

She was willing to give me a chance when it came down to it. I had to be grateful for that.

I pushed the door open to History of Sangratha, expecting to hear a familiar buzz of noise like there'd been in the First Year common room.

But to my surprise, the room was silent. You could have heard a quill drop.

My breath caught as I scanned the room, taking in the dozen or more rows of students, each one already seated and scribbling notes on parchment. There must have been at least a hundred students or more in the class.

As I pulled the door shut behind me, the scribbling stopped and every pair of eyes fixed on me where I stood, hesitating, just inside the doorway.

I suppressed a groan. This was getting to be a habit.

Tiers of polished wood desks and seats curved around the lecture hall. In the center of the room, a woman stood behind an oak lectern on a raised platform, her hands resting on its edge. Her skin was a deep brown hue that contrasted sharply with the white streaks running through her long, dark hair, which had been pulled back into a severe bun.

The professor’s lips were pressed into a thin line. A muscle in her jaw twitched as she stepped out from behind her lectern. She leaned against a carved, wooden cane, walking with a heavy limp. The cane tapped rhythmically against the stone floor as she came to the edge of the lecture stage.

“Miss Pendragon, I presume,” she said coldly. “How nice of you to finally join us.” She pointed up at the clock that hung on the wall behind the row of blackboards. “Only twenty minutes late.”

Neat and precisely handwritten notes were already up on one of the boards. Those must have been what the students had been hard at work copying. At the top I caught sight of the professor’s name, underlined for emphasis: Professor Amina Hassan.

I swallowed hard. “I beg your pardon, Professor Hassan. My timetable said class didn’t begin until nine-thirty. I thought I was early.”

My mind jumped to Regan. I wondered if I’d inadvertently made her late for her own class. Had she mixed up her timetable, too? If so, hopefully her professor would be less strict than mine was.

“There’s no excuse for a lack of punctuality,” the professor said,  smacking the floor with her cane loudly. “Perhaps you believe that because you are allied with House Drakharrow, you do not have to respect the rules of this institution. Or your blightborn instructors.”

I gaped. “I’m mortal, too, you know.”

She sneered. “Yes. Of rider’s blood. How very special.”

My face flushed. “I didn’t ask to be here.”

Instantly I knew it had been the wrong thing to say.

The professor’s eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t be here at all, Miss Pendragon. You haven’t earned your place like they have.” She indicated the many students sitting in the rows of seats, all watching us with fascination.

I noticed Florence in the second row. She had scooted over and was not-so-subtly patting the seat beside her.

I looked around the room slowly. “Half of these students are vampires, aren’t they? Did they earn their place or are they just here because of their family ties? And of the mortal students, how many of them wanted to be here and how many of them were brought forcibly?”

If one could have heard a pin drop when I walked in, now the silence was truly oppressive.

I saw many of the vampire students snarling silently in my direction and tried not to flinch as rows of sharp teeth came into view.

The silence went on for so long that I thought the professor was about to ask me to leave. Or perhaps she was thinking of the best way to punish me.

Finally, Professor Hassan spoke. “What a fascinating point, Miss Pendragon. But the way in which Bloodwing students are selected is a topic we will not be taking up in this class. However, you are always welcome to meet with Headmaster Kim to discuss your concerns. Now, if you have quite finished disrupting this class, please take your seat.”

I hurried over to Florence’s row and sat down next to her. Guiltily, I eyed her quill and parchment. I hadn’t even thought to bring my own. Regan hadn’t mentioned school supplies to me.

Even though I was probably humiliating her just by my presence, Florence kindly slid a piece of parchment and extra quill over to me with a quick smile.

I tried to smile back, but the truth was, I was rattled. My first class wasn’t off to a great start.

Professor Hassan had resumed her place at the lectern. “Miss Pendragon is evidently well-informed about many aspects of Sangrathan history and culture, despite her claim to being only a recent arrival in our land. Let's test her knowledge, shall we?”

Laughter broke out around me.

“For someone who has been so elevated by one of our esteemed houses, Miss Pendragon appears to show considerable disdain for those of the Pure Blood,” Professor Hassan continued. “But I’m sure she’d be happy to answer some basic questions.” She strode over to the blackboard and raised her hand as if poised to write. “Miss Pendragon, please tell the class why vampires drink blood.”

“Why do vampires drink blood? I...” I stuttered. I’d wondered the same thing that morning but still wasn’t sure I had a grasp on the answer. “To survive,” I settled on.

Professor Hassan’s hand dropped. “To survive? What an imprecise response. I require food to survive, water to live. But what do those substances do for me exactly?”