Текст книги "On wings of blood"
Автор книги: Briar Boleyn
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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 36 страниц)
BOOK 3
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CHAPTER 26 – MEDRA
A few days after the House Leader ceremony, I strolled towards my thrallguard lesson. I was hoping for another shot at the spellbook.
I hadn’t seen Blake since that day in the arena. He’d been missing our Advanced Weaponry classes. Not that he really seemed to need them.
He’d killed Coregon in front of the entire school. It was the second time I’d seen him kill.
He was...very good at it.
Part of me still couldn’t wrap my head around it. Coregon Phiri was dead. And he’d been the one to hurt Vaughn. Not Blake. I’d run hastily towards what I thought was the most obvious answer. Like a stupid, reckless fool.
Sometimes I tried to justify what I’d done. Just because Coregon had delivered the blows didn’t mean Blake wasn’t the one who was ultimately responsible. He’d probably told Coregon to go after Vaughn. There was no way it had happened without his full knowledge. I’d learned enough about the way the highblood chain of command worked, even here in the school, to get that.
After the House Leader ceremony that day in the arena, Rodriguez had told me to expect to be summoned to Headmaster Kim’s office to talk about what had happened in Professor Sankara’s class.
Apparently Sankara had already told him all about it. Rodriguez had looked almost frightened when he told me.
But the summons never came.
I was still here. Still going to my classes, eating in the refectory, sleeping in my room in the First Year dorm. Nothing had changed.
I’d supposedly broken some law by attacking Blake–and yet they hadn’t punished me for it. I hadn’t even been given detention.
Maybe the headmaster was just biding his time.
I made my way down the now-familiar corridor towards Professor Rodriguez’s office. Oddly enough, thrallguard lessons had become the part of the day I most looked forward to. Rodriguez was tough but fair, never pushing me beyond what I could handle. I’d been learning, slowly but surely–how to compartmentalize, how to build mental walls that could withstand coercive power.
And Rodriguez... Well, he was just plain impressive. He knew so much. More than he ever let on. He had secrets to keep and the more I hung around him, the more curious I was to know just what they were.
I knocked once as I reached the door, then pushed it open and stepped inside.
My breath hitched.
Blake was sitting behind Rodriguez’s desk, his long legs propped up on the wooden surface as if he owned the place. He was tossing Rodriguez’s letter-opener up in the air, a small dagger with a dragon head pommel.
His white-blond hair fell lazily over his forehead. His white button-up shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal the top of the black tattoos that curled over his chest.
A smug smile tugged at his lips as I stepped inside the room.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Rodriguez had to step out today. He asked me to fill in for him.” He tilted his head, obviously enjoying himself to no end, his eyes gleaming with mockery.
All of a sudden I understood. Blake was one of Rodriguez’s other pupils. One of the highbloods he tutored in thrallguard.
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, already turning around. “No thanks. Tell Rodriguez I’ll see him at our next session.”
Before I could reach the door, Blake was there, moving with lightning speed to block it with his body.
He shoved the door shut with a bang, then leaned against the wood. “Just where do you think you’re going?”
My pulse quickened. But I refused to let him see how much I was rattled. “Get out of my way. You’re not a professor. I don’t have to listen to you.”
“Actually...” Blake folded his arms behind his head. “You do. I may not be a professor, but I’m the next best thing. Your archon. I’m also your future House Leader now. Officially.”
I glared at him. I wasn’t about to offer my congratulations.
He leaned towards me slightly, his breath warm and minty against my ear. “Besides, we both know there's no way you’ll get past me unless I let you.”
His voice dropped, sending a shiver down my spine. “And I’m not in a generous mood today, Pendragon. You could even say I’m a little pissed off.”
Belatedly, I realized there were fading bruises all along his jaw. I hadn’t seen Coregon strike him there. I wondered how he’d gotten them.
Did it matter? Who cared if Blake Drakharrow was hurt? He deserved anything that came to him. Anything bad, that was.
My eyes narrowed. “Move.”
He chuckled softly. “Feisty as always. But sorry, no can do, little dragon. We’ve got a lesson to get through and I mean to teach it.”
He reached a hand out, so fast I didn't see it coming, and brushed a strand of my hair off my face. “No can do, little dragon. I’m looking forward to showing you how a real highblood uses thrallweave.”
I slapped his hand away, my temper flaring. But I hadn’t missed the subtle jibe at Regan. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.”
Blake’s eyes gleamed. He was having fun, the asshole. “I don't need to touch you to get what I want. And I want us to get to know one another better.”
Without warning, he was in my mind.
The pressure hit me like a sledgehammer.
Blake didn’t hold back. He wasn’t Rodriguez. He battered at my mind with a savage strength, pushing at my defenses with a brute force I wasn’t used to–or fully prepared for.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to focus. This was what I had been training for. What was the point of the lessons if I couldn’t go up against a real highblood?
I’d built my walls. I’d blocked off my thoughts. I could handle this.
But Blake was strong.
Each mental blow sent cracks shuddering through my defenses. The walls I’d spent weeks building began to fracture. I fought to keep him out, but it was like trying to hold back a storm with a piece of paper.
Blake was everywhere. Overwhelming me with his attacks.
I curled my fingers into fists, sweat beading on my brow as I pushed back with everything I had.
“Get out,” I gasped, hoping the strain in my voice wouldn’t betray how close I was to breaking.
The air between us felt charged. His proximity was suffocating.
My breath was coming in ragged little gasps. My entire body trembled from the effort it was taking to hold him off.
I hated the look in his eyes. He knew he was going to win.
Another strike. My walls buckled completely.
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CHAPTER 27 – BLAKE
On some level, I knew what I was doing was wrong.
Sure, I knew that.
I felt a little guilty. But it wasn’t enough to stop me.
Pendragon had attacked me. Not the other way around.
And even though I’d won our fight, she’d still managed to humiliate me just by daring to challenge me in the first place.
If she hadn’t made me lose face like that, would Coregon have fought me in the arena that day? Would my uncle have summoned me and beaten me to a fucking pulp?
Well, the last part, probably. It was a regular little Drakharrow tradition for the two of us.
There was something about me Viktor hated. Something that reminded him of my father. I knew he didn’t treat Marcus the same way, no matter how out of control my older brother got.
I’d lied to save Pendragon. I’d covered for her to Kim. And she didn’t even know it because Kim hadn’t bothered to summon her along with me.
She had no idea what I’d done for her. That blissful ignorance really pissed me off.
Maybe I was truly beginning to lose it.
Rage simmered beneath my skin. The memory of Viktor’s fist slamming into my face. The memory of holding Coregon down while he was crushed.
My whole body ached with the weight of rage. Everything was spiraling out of control.
Now here I was, taking it out on Pendragon.
So yeah, I was an asshole. But the truth was, I felt guilty when I slipped inside Pendragon's mind...but I also felt good. There was a thrill to it. A dark power.
I felt her. The real her. She was sweet. Intense. It was almost as good as tasting her blood might have been.
But I hadn’t expected her to fight back so fiercely. It was clear Rodriguez had been doing a damned good job of teaching her. And yet, she still wasn’t ready. Not nearly ready enough to face someone like my uncle.
Viktor wouldn’t go easy on her. He’d tear through her mind like a tempest, leaving nothing but ruin in his wake.
Part of me wondered uneasily why he hadn’t done it already. If he thought she might be a spy, why not search her?
Then a worse thought came to me. Maybe he already had. Maybe he’d already seen everything I was about to see and was just keeping what he’d learned from all of us. From me.
Earlier that day, I’d rationalized to myself that I was going to do this for Pendragon. I would push her to her limits to make sure she was strong enough to survive.
She didn’t know that. She wouldn’t believe me even if I told her.
But now, as I stood in Rodriguez’s office, I knew I was also doing it for myself.
A high washed over me as I began to push past her defenses. She struggled against me and it was exhilarating.
Beneath that rush, the guilt and regret tugged at me again.
She wasn’t like the others. She didn’t deserve this. Not really.
I ignored the guilt and pushed harder.
I was in.
The first memories I grabbed onto were strange and disjointed. Nothing looked familiar.
I saw flashes of places that didn’t resemble anything I’d ever seen in Sangratha at all.
I pushed past scenes of a strange beautiful city with a river running through it and a forest on fire. I caught hold of a memory that felt important to her. Recent, too.
My pulse quickened as I scanned through it. From Pendragon’s viewpoint, I watched a woman with silver hair locked in a duel. She was facing a man–no, not just a man. He was almost like a highblood, but different. He radiated power. His entire being was charged with an energy I couldn’t quite comprehend.
The woman with silver hair fought him with a passionate energy of her own. She was wild. Raw. Untamed. A chill went down my spine. She reminded me of someone. Of Pendragon herself. And yet the way this woman was fighting was like nothing I’d ever seen before.
As I watched the fight, another figure caught my attention.
A dark-haired man stood by, his face covered with blood, watching the battle.
Then he turned and seemed to see Pendragon for the first time. His expression took on an intensity that made my stomach churn. The way he was looking at her–like she was everything to him. I saw the love in his eyes.
My hands clenched as hot jealousy flared inside me, sharp and painful.
Who the hell was he?
I had to find out. I had to dig deeper. I had to know who this man was, why he looked at Pendragon that way.
But then, out of nowhere, a voice echoed in my mind.
A woman’s voice. Older and imperious. She sounded amused, but I caught the hint of a sharp edge. “Tsk, tsk,” she purred. “You're not supposed to be here, little vampire.”
I froze. It wasn’t Pendragon's voice. It was someone else. Someone inside her mind.
Before I could even react, I felt a violent shove. As if an invisible force had taken hold of me and hurled me backwards.
I staggered and blinked, my back hitting the door.
But before I could regain my composure, I realized something else–something terrifying.
Pendragon hadn’t moved. Her eyes were closed, her brows furrowed with concentration.
And then I felt it.
She was inside my mind.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I felt a presence, creeping along the edges of my consciousness.
It shouldn't have even been possible. Pendragon didn’t know thrallweave. Mortals weren't supposed to be able to wield it.
But there she was, slipping into places she had no business being.
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CHAPTER 28 – MEDRA
What are you doing? I hissed at my mother.
Giving him a taste of his own medicine. Come on, don’t tell me you don’t want to. He deserves it.
How are you even doing this? I didn’t know you were capable of anything like this.
Neither did I, she replied, sounding amused. At least, not here. Not with them. And not from my... strange position.
She was using me. Wielding me as an instrument as she went after Blake. I should have been horrified, terrified, shocked.
I was all three. But I was also letting her do it.
If you were capable of this, why didn’t you help me when I was trying to keep him out? I complained.
But she ignored me.
Interesting, she mused, a moment later. Very interesting.
What? What’s interesting? I demanded.
Here. Take a look.
She shoved him at me. Yanked me into his head alongside her.
The world tilted.
I felt my mother tearing through Blake’s mind like a careless hand rummaging through old chests in an attic. She wasn’t being subtle. She wasn’t being careful. She was just yanking up lids and diving in.
Images, thoughts, and emotions swirled around me.
Gleefully, Orcades shoved a wave of them at me.
Emotions. A torrent of rage. So hot and fierce it nearly knocked me off my feet.
But it wasn’t just anger. It went deeper than that. I felt Blake’s grief, his pain at being forced to kill Coregon. I felt the sickening mix of fury and betrayal.
Underneath all of that, something else lurked.
Blake’s anger at me. It was strong. So intense.
Emotions slid away, slipping like sand through my fingers.
A new memory emerged.
The world softened. Blake’s mind settled into calm like the sea after a storm. I blinked and suddenly I was there, standing alongside him on a beach.
He was younger. Maybe eighteen. His face was more open, more boyish. He lacked all of the hard edges I’d come to associate with him. His nose wasn’t as crooked. It hadn’t been broken yet.
He was smiling, actually smiling, as he chased a small girl through the shallow waves.
His sister. Aenia. She couldn’t have been more than three or four. Her giggles rang through the air as Blake splashed water at her.
She darted away from him, only for Blake to scoop her up and twirl her around as she screamed in delight, her pale ringlets bouncing around her face.
I could feel it. His joy. His protectiveness.
Love poured off him for this little girl.
It hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn’t thought him capable of love. Not in any real way. But it was there, undeniable. Coursing through him like a current.
Before I could even begin to process what I’d seen, Orcades’ voice cut through the warmth of the memory.
Found something better, darling. Come and look at this.
The beach scene dissolved. I was thrust into a new memory.
Blake was in the headmaster’s office. He was standing in front of Kim’s desk.
He’d just come from the arena. He must have been summoned right after. He was bleeding from his side where Coregon had stabbed him, but he was trying to ignore the pain.
He was speaking calmly but there was tension in his voice. He was telling the headmaster that he had started our fight. That he had provoked me, goaded me into attacking him.
He was lying.
“If you have to punish anyone,” he said, his voice steady but tired. “Punish me, Headmaster Kim. It was my fault, not Pendragon’s.”
“You don't get along with your consort,” Kim said, his eyes watchful.
“No, sir, I do not. She’s not a highblood. Nor does she show the proper deference. That doesn’t mean I think you should do what you’ve proposed.”
“A consort who attacks an archon is a serious matter, young man,” Kim said. “Consorts have been executed for much less.”
My heart hammered. Kim had wanted to execute me?
“She didn't attack me. It was the other way around,” Blake insisted. “It was an inappropriate loss of control on my part. I assure you, it won’t happen again.”
The headmaster waved a hand dismissively. “You may punish your consorts for their lack of respect however you see fit. Such is your right. However, we discourage doing so in such a public way. It upsets the blightborn students. I’m sure you understand.”
“I understand, sir,” Blake said.
“Very well, Drakharrow. If you are certain...”
But I didn’t get a chance to hear the rest of what Kim was saying. My mother was already moving on, pushing me into yet another memory.
We were back in the arena. Blake stood down in the center of the floor, looking up at the crowd. I saw myself there, sitting beside Regan.
Blake’s eyes lingered on me.
My pulse quickened. I could feel what he felt as he looked at me.
I felt his hunger. One that went beyond a craving for blood, though I felt his thirst for that, too. This was mingled with something deeper, more primal. He wanted me. Not just my blood, but me.
The need... It was tangled with something else. Something sorrowful, something hollow.
And then, before I could start to understand it all, the connection snapped.
I opened my eyes. Professor Rodriguez’s office swam back into focus.
Blake stood across from me, his chest heaving. His eyes were wide with fury and shock.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, neither of us speaking.
“Aenia,” he spat finally. “What did you see?”
I stared at him. That wasn’t what I’d expected him to ask about.
“I saw you on the beach,” I said slowly, not even completely sure why I was answering him. I didn’t owe him this. I didn’t owe him anything. Not after what he’d just done. “You were playing together. She was laughing.”
He studied my face, as if searching for any sign I might be lying.
Then, he was gone.
The door slammed shut behind him.
I was in Rodriguez’s office. And I was alone.
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CHAPTER 29 – MEDRA
I lay back against the pillows on my bed, The Dark Art of Eternal Bonds cradled in my hands, and scanned the page with the spell for the hundredth time.
Florence was in the library studying. She’d left me behind with clear instructions to go into her room at seven o’clock and feed the fluffin. The little animal had been safely ensconced in her chamber ever since that day in the arena. Blake had come to fetch his bag, but Florence had brought it to him herself. I hadn’t even had to talk to him. Thankfully.
At least, the fluffin had been mostly safely ensconced. The pup had developed a bad habit of darting out the door anytime it was left open. He would disappear for hours, even overnight, then reappear outside of Florence’s room with a happy yap.
At least the pup felt comfortable navigating the school and finding his way back.
In the meantime, Florence was desperately fighting her conscience. We weren’t supposed to keep pets so she was breaking the school rules. But since she was a warden she was also getting away with it–for now. Some of the other students had glimpsed the fluffin. They’d kindly offered their silence...in exchange for the occasional chance to cuddle with the adorable creature.
Florence was basically offering bribes in the form of fluffin snuggles.
But I wasn’t about to point that out to her.
While Florence had gone off to the library, Naveen had gone to practice in one of the training yards.
But just in case one of them decided to walk in, I’d pushed a heavy chest in front of my door.
The ritual had to be performed at night, under the open sky, and in a place of ancient power.
I already had a place in mind. I’d use the Dragon Court. There was no doubt it was a place of power. The sculptures seemed to have been standing there for centuries. Not to mention there was a grove of trees there and part of the ritual involved using the earth.
The Dragon Court was usually empty during the day time. I was sure it would be completely quiet at night. No chance of interruption.
Then came the ingredients.
One was easy. I needed to use some of my own blood. Blood was the essence of the living soul. It served as the basic conduit for breaking the bond within me.
The next was a little more tricky. I needed the blood of someone I either loved or hated. It had to be a strong emotion. I only needed a few drops, but apparently the connection was key.
“Love and hate are the only emotions potent enough to fuel such a dangerous spell,” the ritual text read. “They are the emotions that bind souls, making them the only ones strong enough to undo such bonds.”
I already knew who I had to use. There was only one obvious solution. Blake Drakharrow. I hated him.
I might have tried to use Florence but our friendship was still fairly new. I wasn’t sure if what I felt for her as a friend would count as a strong enough emotion.
I also didn't want to involve her in this in any way. So Florence was out.
Getting Blake’s blood might have been a problem, but I’d thought of a possible way to do it.
Lastly, there were two ways the ritual could be cast.
One involved an anchor. The soul would enter an inanimate object and be bound to it until such time as the anchor was destroyed. Orcades could live for hundreds, even thousands of years, if she entered an anchor.
The downside to casting the ritual this way was that the caster could inadvertently become consumed by the emotion from the second conduit’s blood, potentially transferring not just the soul they wished to expel, but part of their own essence into the anchor.
The other way did not involve an anchor. It was also safer for the caster.
I’d thought my mother would prefer the option with the anchor but to my surprise she chose the latter.
Now there was just the matter of getting my hands on some of Blake’s blood.
Oh, and the tiny little issue of my technically not being able to do magic at all.
I’d basically failed all of Professor Wispwood’s tests. That would have been enough to discourage most people from attempting what was probably one of the most difficult spells in existence.
The ingredients might have been basic, but the power required to make everything work was not.
And if I messed this up, the results could be disastrous. According to the book, a number of things could happen in the event of failure to cast the spell properly:
I could die. That was simple enough.
Or, my soul could be snuffed out. That was a different kind of death. My body would live on, but my mother would be in control. She’d basically get a second chance at life. I guess it was an outcome many highbloods would have loved.
Yet here I was, feeling fairly confident I’d be able to cast this thing successfully. Maybe it was arrogant of me to put so much trust in the very soul that had invaded me, but I didn’t really see how I had any other choice.
I might not have had magic but Orcades did. She’d been incredibly powerful once. Now she’d promised me she’d put everything she had into helping me cast the spell successfully.
A few hours later, I slipped out of the First Year dormitory and made my way towards the arena.
At night, the school was quiet and bathed in torchlight.
When I reached the arena, there were no torches to light the rest of the way. Instead, moonlight cast an eerie glow over the huge colosseum, lending it a silent, foreboding air.
I walked slowly down the tiers of stone, my eyes scanning the ground in the center for any glint of light.
When I reached the bottom, I crouched low, moving from platform to platform, searching in between the wide cracks in the stones for the prize I hoped to find.
An hour later, I was sweaty and annoyed but I’d finally found it.
Coregon’s dagger. The one he’d used to stab Blake. It was wedged between two stone platforms, much farther from the center where the fight had been than I’d expected. I’d been able to remember Blake kicking it off the platform and seeing it flying through the air that day, but not where it had landed.
I still couldn't believe Blake had given up the dagger in the first place. He’d taken a risk, choosing to fight Coregon without the weapon.
I picked up the blade carefully. The hilt was coated in dried blood. Blake’s blood.
For a moment I wondered why Coregon had chosen the dagger. It was clearly not the finest weapon. Tarnish covered most of the blade in an ashen sheen. Faint writing snaked along the length of the blade but I couldn’t make out more than a few letters under all the discoloration.
I looked around the arena. For a fleeting moment, I considered doing the ritual right there. It was certainly a place of power. I could feel the abiding presence of violence all around me.
But something about the arena felt wrong for this kind of magic.
I tucked the dagger beneath my cloak and left the arena behind, making my way to the Dragon Court.
The towering stone dragons took shape in the distance, their silhouettes stark against the moonlit sky.
When I arrived at the courtyard, it was as empty as I’d hoped.
I felt more at ease here. The grove that lay behind the red dragon seemed the perfect place, powerful and primeval.
I stepped into the space between the trees, my breath steady but my nerves already on edge.
Kneeling down, I pulled out the dagger, then two books. One I’d stolen from Rodriguez. The other I’d taken out of the Bloodwing library. It contained a simple spell to turn solid matter into liquid.
I flipped it open, then whispered the short incantation. I could feel Orcades presence swell inside me, lending me her aid.
So close, my darling. You're doing well, she whispered, her voice skimming across my mind like the gentle touch of fingertips.
I was hit with a sudden wave of loss.
Was this really what I wanted? I had never met Orcades in life. Never seen her face to face. Now my mother was present, within me, every day. She was full of power, not to mention a surprising amount of wisdom.
I’m not sure we're doing the right thing, I whispered back, a lump stuck in my throat. Maybe we should put this off for a while. We have the book now. What’s the hurry?
No. Her voice was surprisingly firm. We’re doing what we must. A pause. Please don’t misunderstand, my love. I have no wish to leave you. But this union of souls... It’s wrong. I see that now. It’s endangering you. And I would never want that, Medra. You deserve to live a long and happy life. As for me, I could never be happy living with the fear I might be threatening you somehow, child.
I didn’t respond.
The longer I’m here within you, she insisted, the more danger you’re in. I have no wish to live forever. That desire vanished the moment you were born. I would do anything to protect you. Now let me go.
Tears slid down my cheeks. I ignored them and looked down at the knife. The dried blood had liquefied. The spell had worked.
Blake’s blood shimmered darkly in the moonlight.
I tilted the knife and the blood dripped down the blade, pooling at the tip.
I had to do this now or I would never find the courage. I pressed the dagger across my palm, wincing as it cut me. Drops of blood welled on my hand. I rubbed them over the blade, letting them mingle with Blake’s. A sharp sting shot through my hand, but it barely registered. My mind was fixed on the next part of the spell.
I held the dagger over the earth, letting the blood drip down onto the ground, and began to speak the ritual words:
By blood and breath, by night and sky,
The binding of souls I sever,
Let what was trapped be freed to fly,
No longer bound forever.
From heart to soul, from blood to bone,
Let life return where stone has grown.
What’s chained away, shall now take flight,
Awakened be the soul tonight.
The final words hung in the cool night air as I finished.
I waited for something to happen.
Did it work?
My heart sank. We’d failed.
I can still hear you, I said sardonically. So, no, it didn’t work. Fuck. What do we do now?
We don’t use curse words, for one, my mother chided.
Really? You’re going to lecture me about that now, of all times? I exclaimed. I would have thought you’d be more worried about the fact that, oh, I don’t know, that you're still here.
It is strange, Orcades said thoughtfully. I feel different. And yet as you say, we’re still intertwined.
I stopped breathing for a moment. Realization hit me in the head like a brick.
I stared down at the dagger in my hand.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered aloud.
Well, that was only our first attempt, my mother continued, still oblivious to what had happened. We’ll try again tomorrow night. If that doesn’t work, there are always other books. We’ll figure this out, Medra, one way or another. I suppose I was too greedy to think I might simply go free. Perhaps the option with the anchor would have been simpler somehow.
I think you’re right, I said slowly. It would have.
A pause. You sound rather certain about that, darling.
I am certain, I said, gritting my teeth. Because it’s already happened. You aren’t in my head anymore, Mother. You’re in this dagger.
A longer pause this time.
By the gods, I think you might be right. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Of all the slip-ups. I should have foreseen this. You were holding the object as the blood fell.
I bit my tongue to keep from laughing hysterically.
But we used the right words, I reminded her. We used the spell that would free you. Not the incantation for the anchor. So why didn’t it work?
She sighed. That’s magic for you, darling. Magic is a fucking mess.
Oh, we’re allowed to curse now... I meant to tease her, but the words caught in my throat as the ground beneath my feet suddenly trembled.
A shudder ran through the Dragon Court as all around us the castle walls began to shake.
I fell backwards, hitting the rough bark of a tree, my hand still clutching the dagger.
The trees swayed slightly, leaves rustling in the unnatural wind.
Then the wind fell silent. The ground stopped shaking.
I breathed a sigh of relief. What the hell was that?
Some sort of minor earthquake, I suspect, Orcades said thoughtfully. Perhaps this place is built over some sort of a plate in the earth. Like the ones in the arena. They shift from time to time, you know.
I frowned. I was about to say that sounded as preposterous as a theory I had once read in a book that claimed the entire world of Aercanum was being carried on the backs of four prancing unicorns when suddenly, I saw movement across the courtyard. I slunk down closer to the ground, my head leaning against the tree trunk.
Blake Drakharrow strode into the Dragon Court. He scanned the area, clearly checking to make sure no one had followed him.
I knew he had heightened senses as a vampire. I wondered if those extended to being able to see in the dark.
Nervously, I crouched even lower into the shadows.
Blake walked swiftly towards the grove and my heart sped up. If he came much closer, he’d see me.
