“If you are open to the general concept of survival, we will begin training again tomorrow. But there will be a second aspect to your instruction.” He nodded to my seat. “Every night, you will spend at least one hour in that chair, and you will talk to me.”

The words leaped to my tongue: “I’d sooner die.”

“Oh, you are quite welcome to die. I understand that if you smoke too much purple aster, you will be locked into your dreamscape and your body will shrivel from lack of water.” He nodded to the door. “Go now, if you choose. Die. Never look upon me again. I see no reason to prolong your suffering.”

“Won’t the blood-sovereign be angry?”

“Perhaps.”

“Do you care?”

“Nashira is my betrothed, not my keeper. She has no influence over how I treat my human charges.”

“And how do you plan to treat me?”

“As my student. Not my slave.”

I turned my head away, my jaw set. I didn’t want to be his student. I didn’t want to become like him, to turn on my kind, to play on his field.

I was starting to feel the æther again. A faint pricking at my senses. “If you treat me as your student,” I said, “then I want to treat you as my mentor, not my master.”

“A fair bargain. But mentors should be shown respect. I expect that from you. And I expect you to stay with me, in polite company, for one hour every night.”

“Why?”

“You have the potential to walk between the æther and the corporeal world at your pleasure,” he said. “But if you do not learn to be still, even in the presence of your enemies, you will find it difficult. And in this city, you will not live very long.”

“And you don’t want that.”

“No. I think it a terrible waste of such a singular life. You have great potential, but you do require a mentor.”

His words twisted around my stomach. I had a mentor. I had Jaxon Hall.

“I’d like to sleep on it,” I said.

“Of course.” He stood, and I realized again how tall he was. I didn’t even reach his shoulder. “Bear in mind that you do have choices. But I advise you, as a mentor, to think of whoever gave you this.” With a swing of his wrist, he tossed me the heavy backpack. “Would they want you to die for nothing, or would they want to see you fight?”

Hailstones crashed on the roof of the tower. I rubbed my hands over the paraffin lamp, my lips and fingers numb with cold.