Class Reptilia

Ember scrubbed a hand over her face, taking a deep breath of the early morning air. It was the first time she had stepped outside in the three days since the ranked match, most of which had been spent in bed experiencing the unpleasant sensation of her body stitching itself back together. She was as tired as if she hadn't slept at all, but the air was sweet and the trees welcoming, and awareness returned to her by degrees.

It was still thirty minutes before sunrise, and the sky was an anticipatory grey. The forest was enshrouded in fog, and tendrils of it ghosted over Ember's skin like fingertips. The oak seedlings that had poked through the ground in the spring now stood at a foot tall, and everything glistened with the damp. It reminded Ember viscerally of her first days in Mendel, although now she could sense the pulsing warmth that imbued everything from the moss-cushioned ground to the smallest of clover patches. On impulse, she pulled off her boots and socks and walked around the main dorm building barefooted.

She found Marcus up in the banyan tree that guarded the complex. The python sat on one of the long branches, his lean body partially hidden by the hanging prop roots. His eyes were closed and his head tilted back against the bark, exposing the length of his throat, although Ember knew better than to think he was asleep. The low light softened the hardness of his jaw, and she had the sudden recollection that he had once been a princeling. But such days were long passed, and she climbed into the tree next to him with the ghost of a smile on her lips.

"What are you doing?" she asked, letting her legs dangle from the branch.

He cracked a dark eye. "Well, I was meditating," he chided, but he could hear the humor in his voice.

"But today is Saturday. We train on Saturdays."

He turned to face her, his amusement replaced by exasperation. "Not on the Saturday right after a ranked match, we don't."

"I'm fine," she protested. "I'll get out of practice."

"Have you forgotten who taught you to use infrared?" he reminded, his gaze traveling pointedly down her body. "You need a week to heal at least."

She waved him off. "Admit it. I did well, didn't I?"

"It's unbecoming to fish for compliments. Your infrared control was impressive, but you could have been crippled if Ryan didn't have an obvious weakness. Tenacity can only get you so far; you need to work on your defense and endurance."

"Okay, okay," she conceded. As usual, he managed to be both correct and infuriating.

"I suppose it was satisfying to see that prick get what he deserved," Marcus added with a small smirk. "Although you gave your friends quite the fright."

"My friends?"

He nodded. "The whole herd of them: the fox, of course, that fool; the pangolin and her boyfriend; the little fish—who I really thought was also going to rush the arena, by the way; that cat, who seemed on the edge of issuing a challenge herself; and a couple of others from the intermediate class, I think. They're fond of you."

Ember blushed, suddenly embarrassed. "I should thank them for coming."

He hummed in response, and they settled into a peaceful silence. The sun dawned over the horizon, its light filtering through the forest canopy and casting a mottled shadow over Marcus's face, making his usually dull scales glow like tiger quartz. He had always been brooding, but Ember knew him well enough to notice the tension on his brow and around the downward turn of his lips.

"You look troubled," she ventured.

He exhaled, letting his eyes flutter shut. "It's this mission. Frankly, I never expected you might succeed in being invited, so I didn't say anything, but…" he grimaced. "How, may I ask, do you intend to rescue your father alone?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. And I won't be alone, Orthus will help me."

His impassive look told her exactly what he thought of that. "The octopus might be capable—and that's debatable—but he's not a fighter. Disregarding the risk to yourself, Archbishop Matthias won't hesitate to leverage you against Mendel if you're captured. And if you succeed in freeing your father, you will still have to transport him back here."

Ember shook her head impatiently. "I've thought about all of this, Marcus. Ciradyl is on the brink of war, and it's not going to waste resources on human prisoners under martial law. I'm going regardless of what you say."

"I'm not telling you not to go," he hissed between his teeth, frustrated.

"Then what?"

He looked away, his brows drawn together. "Someone's coming," he said instead of answering, and Ember felt a twinge of annoyance that his instincts were still better than hers before Orthus was shoving himself onto the tree branch next to them, muttering something about solid ground.

She steadied him with a hand. His duties as Corax's spy had taken a toll on him: his hair stuck up unevenly, there were dark bags under his multicolored eyes, and he wore what was obviously the previous day's clothes.

"What are you doing here?" Marcus asked, and Ember flashed him a glare for his impropriety.

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"Are you all right, Orthus? Has something happened?"

Orthus nodded, his expression grim. "I've just seen the personnel list for the operation, and Ember, you're not on it."

Although she had known it was a possibility, the news still sent a cold spike of fear down Ember's spine, although it was quickly replaced by frustration. Why must he resist me at every turn?

"It may be time to try Mr. Ernold's plan," Orthus suggested, and the three Linnaeans exchanged an apprehensive look.

"It's not like we have any other options," Ember nodded, already sliding down the tree. "I'm going to go see our headmaster."

***

Ember stepped off of the staircase and onto the floorboards of the treehouse, padding down the hall to the door of Corax's study. The small window on the left side of the hallway was cracked, letting in the summer air, and Ember grimaced at the memory of wriggling through it during her last visit to the headmaster. At least this time, she planned to enter through the front door.

She raised the iron knocker, careful not to reveal her impatience as she tapped it to the wood. A couple of long moments passed, her frustration mounting, until at last she heard footsteps inside the study.

The door swung open to reveal Corax in his entirety, and Ember forgot her manners as she came face-to-face with him for the first time in five months. As she had guessed, the journey south had treated him ill; he wore a thick cloak best suited for winter, and she could see shallow cuts, like those made from pushing through heavy vegetation, on the exposed skin of his wrists and neck. His malformed arms—which had once suited his mysterious air—now struck her as sickly, and his face was a pallid grey. "Ah, Ember," he greeted her, his expression unreadable. "Come in."

"Thank you," she said, remembering herself. She followed him past the piles of oddities—now returned to their rightful places—and up the velvet stairs.

"Tea?" the headmaster offered, gesturing for her to sit at the rectangular table with the three-dimensional map in the center. Ember nodded, suddenly feeling guilty for initiating what she suspected was going to be a very unpleasant conversation.

The crow crossed the room, bringing a flame to life with the twist of a dial. "Congratulations are in order," he said as he poured water from a jug into an iron kettle, a barely perceptible tremor running up his arm. "I attended the ranked matches on Wednesday. Although I do not condone your challenge against Mr. Cox, I was astounded by your progress."

"I'm honored."

The crow opened a nearby cabinet, leaning over to withdraw a pouch of tea leaves. "I'm glad. But what brings you here, Ember? I doubt this is a pleasure visit."

Ember grimaced at his astuteness. "I've heard tell of an expedition to Ciradyl, and I want to be included."

The headmaster paused, the lines of his shoulders tense, before resuming his parceling-up of the tea leaves. "That's information very few people know about. How did you come to be included in their number?"

"I heard it from the Martial Eagle," Ember admitted, careful not to implicate Orthus. "Although he was perhaps… unaware that I was listening."

Corax chuckled, startling her. "Sir? You're not upset?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Orion is both an old friend and an old enemy," he explained, lifting the kettle to pour steaming liquid into the teapot. She looked on, bemused, as he arranged the pot and two cups on a wooden tray and carried it over to the table. "Although I must caution against offending him. Not even I can move freely if he opposes it."

There was an apologetic edge to his voice, and Ember deduced that he was speaking of Ophelia's firing. Gathering herself, she filled her cup from the teapot, taking a sip of the aromatic liquid. It tasted of black tea and wildflowers.

"I will take your warning into account," she said at last. "But I still wish to be included on the expedition."

Corax sobered, gazing past her and out of the great windows that overlooked the campus. "You have been in Mendel for ten months, Ember, and you are merely eighteen. You are hardly qualified."

"It's true that I'm young," she conceded, "but not entirely inexperienced. I fought against the margay and the mercenaries, and I'm a ranker. I know Ciradyl well, and with some adjustments, I can pass for human."

His talon tapped a rhythm against the ceramic of the mug. "Rescue missions require discretion above all else—the group will be small, and every member essential. My answer is no."

Ember looked down at her reflection in the cup of tea, steeling herself. "Sir, if I am not included, I will leak the truth about the mercenaries' attack to the press. I will tell them that you gave permission for Ophelia's exam, and it was because of your absence that the humans were able to infiltrate the forest. I'll explain that the Martial Eagle was running the administration in your absence, and it was he who chose her as the scapegoat."

Corax stilled, and what might have been anger flitted across his features before they settled into a more neutral expression. "You intend to blackmail me."

"If I must."

"You do not understand what you're meddling with," he said, shaking his head. "Mendel may soon be drawn into war. It is imperative that our people continue to trust me."

"That is none of my concern," she replied, although she felt a spike of fear at his words.

He sighed. "It is not difficult to guess your true purpose. Your father lives in Ciradyl. Undoubtedly, you plan to make contact with him—maybe even to attempt a rescue."

Ember schooled her features. He had seen through her so easily that she knew there was no point in pretending otherwise, so she stayed silent.

Abruptly, the crow pushed back his chair, walking down the stairs onto the first level of the office. He drew a ring of keys from his coat, using one to unlock a cabinet. For a moment, his head disappeared inside, and then he emerged with a black jar in hand.

He joined her back at the table, although this time he remained standing, and shook a moderately-sized, opaque pill from the jar. "This is a cyanide capsule," he explained, his tone clipped. "It would be a loss for you to die, but it would be even worse for you to be used against us. The release is triggered by a hard bite, and the poison works within minutes."

Anticipation settled on Ember's shoulders as she realized he was accepting her demands. "You gave one of these to the captured spy, didn't you," she said, remembering the Martial Eagle's declaration that the spy should have killed herself.

"Yes, but in the end, she was too afraid to die. Give me your word that you'll do what is necessary."

Ember took a deep breath, tucking the pill into the deepest pocket of her pants. "I swear it."

Corax gave her a grave look, the lines of his face tight, and she hoped (perhaps too late) that she had not ruined their relationship irreparably. "The team leaves in two days. Meet them at the northern gate three hours past midnight, and tell no one." He turned his back to her, beginning to pace. "You are dismissed."

Ember stood quickly, sliding past him and retreating down the stairs, the cyanide pill burning a hole in her pocket. "And another thing," he added as she reached for the knocker, "even if you are successful, I will claim that I had no knowledge of your plot. I will not protect you from the consequences of defection."