Текст книги "On wings of blood"

Автор книги: Briar Boleyn

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CHAPTER 35 – BLAKE

Thank the Bloodmaiden for vampire reflexes. I’d been gawking at Pendragon like a fool, but every time her head seemed to be about to move in my direction, I’d glance away so she’d have no idea.

I’d noticed Regan looking at me strangely once or twice but I didn’t think she’d seen anything. I still glared at her to put her in her place. I was her fucking archon and she knew it.

Things between us were rocky. I mean, they had been all last year, if not before that. But now, with Pendragon thrown into the mix, they were worse. Regan had always been insecure. I think she actually thought her feelings for me were real.

She knew I didn’t reciprocate. Honestly, I found it hard to take her “feelings” for me seriously. I didn’t think they were based on anything more than her hunger for power and status. Being paired with me gave her both. She seemed to think “love” should be part of the bargain. But that wasn’t how it worked. I wasn’t obligated to love her.

We’d been paired together to be mates out of political convenience. Because my uncle needed to shore up power and Lord Pansera  had shoved his daughter in front of him at the perfect time. I had no idea if my father would have ultimately approved of our match, especially considering how Regan had turned out. Even though our families had grown up together and Regan had always been pushed my way, I’d always hoped he’d let me do my own choosing. After all, he’d wound up with my mother–and with only her. That had been their choice. They’d opted not to form a triad, even though they might have been stronger with a third mate.

Sometimes I wondered if my father would still be alive if he’d formed a triad. Who could say.

I wasn’t the only one with my head in the clouds as we sat in the refectory.

Theo wasn’t even pretending to listen as Regan and Quinn went on and on about what they were going to wear to the Dance of the Longest Night and what they were going to eat and who they were going to talk to–and not talk to, of course.

He was too busy staring across the refectory at Vaughn Sabino, not even caring who saw.

I looked over at the blightborn boy. Sabino’s arm was no longer in a sling. He had it perched on the table and was holding a quill as he scribbled something on parchment. That was a good sign. I knew that Sabino had wanted to be a scout. Coregon had bragged that the blightborn wouldn’t be able to become one now, thanks to the damage to his arm. Maybe Coregon hadn’t done as much harm to the boy as he’d liked to think.

I winced, thinking about Coregon. Sometimes I still couldn’t believe he was really gone. Deep down, he’d been even more of a cold-blooded asshole than I was. But he’d hidden it well.

There were times it would have been nice to have him back. Or at least, useful. He’d been good at helping me to shut Regan up, to put her in her place. He’d helped me keep everyone in line.

He really would have been a good choice for my second.

But now I knew what he’d really been thinking. That I hadn’t been capable of managing my house on my own.

I gave Theo a playful punch on the arm. “Hey. Stop staring.” I said it low enough that only he’d be able to hear.

He jerked his head up, then glared at me.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” I said, frowning. I lowered my voice again. “I’m not the one who did that to him.”

He shook his head. “Right. And you expect me to believe that.”

I felt my face flush. “I do expect you to believe that. Because it’s the truth.”

He looked at me. “Next thing you’ll tell me Uncle Viktor didn’t tell you that you had to keep me in line. Keep me from humiliating our family with my little ‘indiscretions.’”

I leaned towards him. “You know I don’t give a fuck about your indiscretions.”

But there was no way I was going to tell him the truth about just how little Viktor cared about him. Or Marcus.

I slung my arm around his shoulder. “You’re my second now, Theo. We have to trust each other.”

He shrugged my arm off and stood up. “Maybe you should pick someone else.”

He slunk out of the refectory before I could think of the right thing to say.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath.

The girls were still gossipping about some bullshit.

It was only when Quinn brought up the Consort Games that I tuned back in.

“You must be looking forward to putting that little Pendragon bitch in her place, Regan,” Quinn gushed. She was such a suck-up. She’d managed to crawl so far up Regan’s ass I didn’t think she’d ever come out again. But then, Regan loved that sort of thing. She only wanted girls around her who would worship her.

“Oh, I am, believe me,” Regan started to say.

I slammed my palms down on the table. “What was that?”

Regan fell silent.

I slid down the bench and positioned myself across from the three girls. Regan, Quinn, and Visha.

Visha was the only one who met my eyes.

“Regan, you know my position on the Consort Games,” I said firmly. “And you’re going to toe the fucking line. Aren’t you?”

Regan twirled a strand of hair around her finger and sighed.

“Regan, look at me, dammit.”

She sulkily met my eyes. “Yes. Fine. I am. You know that. A girl can still dream, can’t she?”

I rolled my eyes. Only Regan would dream of murdering her fellow consort. Well, maybe not only Regan. It happened once in a while. But it wasn’t supposed to.

“You don’t want to piss off old Uncle Viktor, now do you, Regan?” I reminded her.

I hated myself for doing it, but I reached a hand forward and lightly cupped her cheek. “Or me, baby. Right?”

Her gaze softened as she looked at me. “Of course not. You know I’m a good girl.”

“The very best,” I said, letting my voice take on the hint of a drawl. “Such a good girl for me.”

She bit her lip. “Blake...”

I knew exactly what she was going to ask later. She’d want to come to my room that night. She wanted to come to my room every fucking night.

But I’d shut her out months ago. It had driven her crazy. I hadn’t even let her go down on me. No matter how sex crazed I’d felt sometimes. And it had been pretty bad at some points.

I wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong with me. But Regan had lost all appeal. Even in bed. And she had a good body, there was no denying that. She was exceptionally... bendy.

It was all Pendragon’s fault. Ever since that day I’d found her. Even covered with that prick, Barnabas’s blood, she’d been a breathtaking sight.

I thought of that day constantly.

Medra Pendragon might have been the most infuriating girl I’d ever known. She certainly ignited my worst emotions. And yet I’d never get that vision of her out of my head. Naked and yet still looking down her nose at me. Breasts splattered with blood and yet standing as tall and straight as a queen.

She was a blightborn. She shouldn’t have been capable of doing what she did to me.

But it was like she didn’t even understand what she was.

She wasn’t like other girls who fawned over me and bent to my will. I’d sampled plenty of those in my first year at Bloodwing. Even Regan had fallen into that category eventually, though at first she’d pretended to have an actual backbone and mind of her own. It had all been an act. She’d been trying to hold my interest. And it worked–for a little while.

But no, Pendragon met me with brutal words and cold glares. She made it clear she had no intention of falling at my feet. Yet despite that–no, fuck, because of it–I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

There was something about being challenged that made her irresistible. That glimmer of rebellion in her eyes, like a light that promised to never go out. The way she resisted what most girls would normally crave.

I couldn’t shake her from my thoughts. If I’d at least been able to just taste her, then maybe I’d have been able to get her out of my head. But even that was impossible. To do so would undo exactly what my uncle claimed he wanted us to get out of this.

Hell, part of me suspected he never wanted me to taste Pendragon–because he planned to take her for himself.

And that thought made me see blood red. It would never happen, not while I lived.

I didn’t want to stand up to Viktor. I fucking hated the man, but I wasn’t an idiot. I knew he was stronger than me.

Still, I’d do it, even if I knew it was suicidal, if I thought there was a chance it would keep Pendragon out of his slimy old hands.

In a world where everyone else bowed to us, she stood tall. Defiant and unbroken. It made Regan hate her. But to me, it only made her more alluring.

I closed my eyes for a moment. Remembering her perfect breasts. That thatch of red curls between her pale thighs.

Every night I jerked off to the same thing. Just different variations.

My favorite fantasy this week involved going down on her. She’d push me away, tell me to get out of her room, then she’d change her mind and grab me by the hair and pull me back, shoving my head down between her legs.

I’d lick long and deep, tasting her sweet saltiness, while she moaned. She didn’t want this. And yet she did. That was what made it so fucking good. Knowing we couldn’t stand each other. Yet knowing we couldn’t keep our hands off one another.

I’d reach a hand up to cup one perfect breast, rubbing my finger over her nipple until it was taut, while my tongue circled her clit and she arched her hips against me.

I’d bring her to her climax, swift and intense, and then I’d climb over her, letting her get a good look at me. I’d tell her this was what she’d done to me. She’d bite her lip and tell me she needed me inside her, couldn’t wait another minute.

I’d bend down and kiss her sweet lips while I wrapped my hands in that gorgeous mane of red curls, all spread out around her head like a halo of flame, and then I’d slide inside of her. I’d try to be slow and gentle, but soon I’d be out of control. She’d be clawing at my back, begging me to take her harder, faster...

Visha cleared her throat and I jerked out of my reverie, suddenly remembering where I was.

I sighed and ran my hands over my face, shifting on the bench to get more comfortable. It was fucking humiliating. It was also ironic. Pendragon had been given to me as a prize and yet I couldn’t even claim her. She was untouchable. I couldn’t even feed from her without our bond getting stronger first. Of course, she didn’t know that. If she did, she’d never let me get close to her ever again.

Regan and Quinn were standing up to go. They pecked each other on the cheek as if they actually cared about each other. It was sweet in a nauseating kind of way.

“You’re not coming, Visha?” Regan said, looking down at the dark-haired girl.

Visha shook her head. “I’ll just hang here until supper time. See you back in the tower.”

Regan looked at me with a question in her eyes. “Blake...”

I shook my head. “I’ll see you back at the tower later on, too.” Then I looked away.

Regan stood there a moment longer then walked off. I heard her start chattering like a magpie again as she ran into Larissa and Gretchen. The third and fourth meanest girls at Bloodwing, after Regan and Quinn.

I watched as the girls approached Pendragon’s table. Her friend, Sharma, started looking uncomfortable. They were putting him through the ringer, no doubt. Pendragon’s face grew more and more angry. Then she snapped at them. I watched Larissa’s face redden with embarrassment and had to stop myself from bursting out laughing.

Then their conversation seemed to wind up. To my surprise, Regan lingered. Pendragon stood up and followed her. She talked to the other girl for a minute. Whatever they were discussing didn’t seem to make her happy.

I thought I knew what it was about.

I turned back to Visha. She pushed a hand through her short-cropped white hair. She liked to change up her style. Last week she’d shaved it down almost to the scalp. She looked pretty badass. Unlike Regan’s other friends, Visha had a mind of her own.

It had taken me a while to realize that. I still didn’t think Regan had.

“You still pissed at me for what happened with Pendragon?” She said, with typical Vaidya bluntness.

I met her violet gaze. “I was for a while. I told you to test her. Not fucking beat her to a pulp and try to knife her.”

She shrugged. “It was too tempting to resist.”

I nodded. “Fine. Let’s move on. You got a taste. But I won’t tolerate it if you take another. Do you understand?”

Slowly, she nodded. Unlike Coregon, Visha knew what I was really capable of. I knew she’d fall in line.

“The Consort Games are coming up,” I said to her. “Have you decided?”

She blew out a breath. “Fuck, Blake. That’s a big decision.”

“I know,” I said carefully. “The biggest one of your life. Don’t wind up like me.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m more worried I’ll wind up like Regan, if I’m being honest.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever have to worry about that happening,” I said quietly.

She studied me. “You really don’t think she’ll listen?”

I shook my head. “I doubt it. She’s not usually a risk-taker, but I think I know her well enough to know this is one risk she’ll think is worth taking.”

Visha nodded. “I think so, too.”

“Good thing I’ve got you on my side,” I joked.

She smiled wryly. “Just don’t let Regan get the wrong idea.”

“We’ll talk fast,” I agreed. “I think you already know what needs to be done.”

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CHAPTER 36 – MEDRA

It was the same dream I’d had for the last seven nights in a row. Wasn’t seven some sort of a lucky number?

I lay tangled in my sheets, my body tense.

I was back in the training yard, fighting with Blake. Heart pounding. Adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I sat astride him, the weight of my body pressing against his.

But this time there was a dagger in my hand.

I pressed it to his throat.

My breathing was ragged. So was his. I could feel the pulse of his life beneath my trembling fingers.

For the first time since we’d been forced into this twisted bond, I felt truly powerful.

I was in control. I could end everything in an instant. Stop all the hatred, all the confusion.

I was filled with a strong emotion. Joy.

Or was it? Why was I hesitating?

Blake stared up at me. His gray eyes were dark with fury and hatred. But beneath it, I glimpsed a hint of fear.

I relished the weight of the blade, focused on the pale skin of his throat. He was at my mercy. All I had to do was push down.

A rush of power was building up in my chest. I’d be free of him.

I faltered. His gaze caught mine and for a split second, I saw something more there.

Raw desire.

It was like looking into a mirror. The realization struck me like a blow, the breath fleeing my lungs.

His lips twisted into a half-smile.

Slowly, he reached up and grasped my wrist. I let him.

“Do it then,” he whispered, his voice rough and taunting. “You want this, don’t you? Finish it now.”

His grip grew tighter. “But that won’t be enough, Pendragon. Haven’t you ever killed a highblood?”

He moved my hand lower, until the dagger was right over his heart.

“If you really want to end things, you’ll have to stab me in the heart.”

I gritted my teeth, every fiber of my being screaming at me to do it.

But I didn’t move.

That pause was all he needed. In a heartbeat, Blake flew into action.

Surprising me with his strength, he flipped us over, and suddenly, I was the one pinned beneath him.

He had the dagger now, his hand still around my wrist, as he pressed the blade against my throat.

His face hovered over mine. His eyes were wild. So full of hate.

I knew he’d use the knife.

I closed my eyes, the pressure of the blade against my skin intensifying. This was how it was going to end. All because I’d been too weak and too stupid to kill him when I'd had the chance.

I braced myself for the cut. Would he feed from me as my life’s blood spilled out?

Then his lips brushed my ear. “I could kill you right here, right now, little dragon.”

The words sent a jolt down my spine.

Then the pressure at my throat was gone. I heard a clattering sound as he tossed the dagger away.

“You had your chance to end this,” he growled, his breath hot against my skin. “You failed. And now...you’re mine.”

Then his lips were on mine.

The kiss was rough. Urgent. Possessive. Everything I’d been denying I wanted.

For a heartbeat, I froze.

My first instinct was to push him away.  But in the next moment, I felt my hands betray me. I clutched his shirt, pulling him closer instead.

I was furious with myself. In my head, I knew he was no good for me. But my body knew what it wanted and was refusing to deny it for another second.

Heat coiled low in my stomach and the need I’d been fighting for so long surged to the surface.

I was lost in the kiss, lost in him. The way he kissed me was commanding–a storm of anger and desire. Every nerve in my body screamed with need, my mind spinning from the intensity of it.

I could think, couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t resist him.

Blake’s hands slid down my body, his fingers brushing the exposed skin of my waist, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer against me, as my mind screamed at me to stop.

His tongue slid against mine, sending a bolt of lightning through my body, and I moaned.

His fingers roamed over me, finding their way beneath my clothes. His hands cupped my breasts and I shivered, arching upwards, silently begging for more.

“You’re mine,” he growled against my lips.

I hated myself for how much I wanted it to be true.

“I hate you,” I whispered, even as my body melted with his touch.

His teeth grazed my lower lips and I felt his fangs, reminding me just how dangerous he truly was.

His dark voice filled with cruel satisfaction. “You could never hate me as much as you want me.”

And then his hands were tugging my trousers down and his fingers were between my legs, slipping into the wet space between my thighs. I trembled against him as he slid in and out of me, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

The dream shifted violently.

The training yard quaked.

I looked around in terror as the stone walls surrounding us began to crack and crumble, pieces of rock breaking off and tumbling to the ground.

“What is this? What’s happening?” I demanded.

Blake looked down at me, his gray eyes strong and steady. “The dragons are coming.”

My heart slammed against my chest as the walls collapsed, revealing a dark gaping space beyond.

A shape moved, massive and terrifying.

A dragon–huge and ancient and filled with unspeakable power–rose from the wreckage of the wall, its wings spreading wide, its glowing yellow eyes locked on me.

The beast let out a deafening roar.

I opened my mouth to scream and the sound of my own voice tore me from the dream with a jolt.

My eyes flew open.

I tossed my legs around, trying to untangle them from the wreckage of my blankets, my heart still racing from the nightmare.

Something was wrong.

The room was shaking. The First Year tower trembled as if it would crumble apart, just like in my dream.

I shot out of bed, my feet hitting the cold floor as I stumbled towards the door and ran down the hall towards Florence’s room.

Naveen was already there. He had a hand against the wall, bracing himself.

“What the fuck is happening?” I shouted.

The shaking stopped.

Florence’s door flew open. She stood there in a white nightdress, her black hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

Other students had come out into the hallway. The corridor filled with the sound of panicked voices.

I saw Vaughn Sabino come to stand near Naveen. His arm had been out of the sling for a week now.

“Quiet everyone,” Florence called, raising her voice to be heard over the din. “Quiet please.”

Slowly all the First Years turned towards her.

“I’m not sure where the other First Year Warden is,” Florence said. Her voice was calm. I glanced at Naveen, knowing only he and I could probably tell how nervous she still was. “But I need you all to be quiet and to listen to me.”

“Probably drunk or being sucked,” I heard Naveen mutter to Vaughn. The other warden, Thomas, didn’t take his duties as seriously as Florence. I wasn’t sure why he’d even been selected. Then I’d found out he was a thrall to one of the students in House Avari. That was probably why. Maybe he was busy with his highblood right now.

The First Years had all turned towards Florence.

“Thank you. Now, please listen. The tower is not going to fall,” Florence reassured them, her voice firm. “This castle was built centuries ago and was enchanted to withstand almost anything. Even dragon attacks.” Her lips twitched a little. “And I think we all know there’s no need to worry about one of those.”

There was a titter of nervous laughter.

“I’ve already spoken to Professor Wispwood about the last quake we experienced a few weeks ago,” she continued. This was news to me, but I knew Florence was spending a lot of time with Professor Wispwood after class. “She told me that it was nothing to worry about. Islands like the one Bloodwing is situated on often experience ocean tremors. Sometimes there will be nothing for decades, then there will be a span where you get a bunch all in a row over a few weeks or even days. It’s very common.”

Her words began to settle around the hall and I could almost feel the relief coming off my fellow First Years.

“Even if we did get hit by something like a tidal wave caused by one of the tremors,” Florence continued. “Bloodwing was built high enough above sea level that we would remain safe. Nothing can reach us here.”

Some of the students began talking again, but their voices were lower, less panicked. They seemed reassured.

Florence clapped her hands together briskly. “Now, I need you all to go back to your rooms. The tremors are over. Go to sleep. Everything will be fine. I’ll check in with Professor Wispwood and the headmaster in the morning, and I promise you, if there is any cause for concern, we will let you know.”

The crowd began to move, thinning out of the corridor as the students moved back to their rooms.

I turned to Florence. “That was impressive.”

She shrugged modestly but looked pleased. “Just doing my job.”

“And Thomas isn’t,” Vaughn pointed out.

She sighed. “He’s probably snuck out again. Can you call it sneaking out if you’re going to feed a highblood student? I’ve never been sure about that.”

“I didn’t know First Years could be used as thralls,” I said.

“Yes, well, apparently Thomas ‘belonged’ to this highblood before he arrived at Bloodwing. They came here together from the student’s family estate. It’s rare but it’s acceptable. What’s more unusual is Thomas being made a warden.” Florence looked frustrated. “I don’t see the point of it. He hardly helps the First Years at all.”

“Highblood nepotism knows no bounds.” I peered past her into her room. “Where’s Neville?”

“Gone again,” Florence said, pushing a lock of black hair off her face. “Probably to Blake. I hope he’s all right.”

I shook my head dutifully, but a part of me wondered if Neville slept on Blake’s bed. The memory of the dream was still fresh in my mind. Suddenly my own bed seemed very cold and empty.

“Sleep in my room tonight?” Florence suggested.

“Sure, great idea,” Naveen quipped. “Sleepover party, Vaughn?”

Vaughn smiled. It was the first time I’d seen him really smile in a long time.

Florence punched Naveen’s arm playfully. “I meant Medra.”

“Oh, right. That makes sense,” Naveen agreed. “I’m still hurt though.”

“I’d have invited you if I didn’t happen to know you snore like a bear,” Florence said, giggling. “We used to have sleepovers when we were little,” she explained to Vaughn and I.

We said goodnight to Naveen and Vaughn, and then I followed Florence into her room.

Once we were snuggled up under her blankets, I started to relax. Florence slept with a huge, heavy comforter on top of the other blankets. Its heaviness was nice. Like a warm hug.

Like Blake’s body pressing against you, said an evil voice in my head. I told it to go to hell.

“I got invited to the Dance of the Longest Night,” said Florence, her voice starting to drift. “Did I tell you?”

I sat up in bed. “No, you most certainly did not. By who?”

Please say Naveen, I prayed.

She hesitated. “I actually received two invitations.”

“Oh, really? I’m not surprised. You’ll probably get a dozen more before the ball,” I teased. “After all, you are the most brilliant girl at Bloodwing. Not to mention one of the most beautiful.”

“Ha. I don’t know about either of those things,” Florence said, scrunching up her nose. “I work hard. That’s all.” She hadn’t dimmed the lamp by her bed yet and I could see her black eyes were bright with excitement.

“You work very, very, very hard. Now tell me who asked you,” I prodded. “You know you want to.”

She blushed slightly. “One was a student from House Orphos.”

“A highblood?” I asked in alarm.

She shook her head. “No, a strategist. Ebbot. He’s a Third Year. We’ve studied together a few times. You know I’ve been taking some advanced classes.”

“Is he nice?” I ventured. “Handsome?”

“He’s nice,” Florence said, after a pause to consider. “I’m not sure about handsome. I have to admit, I was surprised when he asked me. I hadn’t thought about him that way. He’s brilliant though. We’d have a lot to talk about.”

“It might be nice to have someone in your field to go with,” I said cautiously. I was hoping the other invitation wasn’t from a highblood. “And the other?”

Florence waved a hand. “It was just Naveen.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say. Not without revealing anything. “Well, Naveen is a good friend. He’d be fun to go with. He’d make you feel comfortable, right?”

“That’s what I was thinking, too.” Florence sighed. “I should probably give Ebbot an answer one way or the other tomorrow.”

I hoped she’d pick Naveen. But I wasn’t sure I should say that out loud. It might sway her the other way.

“Well, no one’s asked me yet,” I said, throwing my head back down on the pillow. “And they probably won’t.” I grinned ferociously at her. “Because I’m the weirdo redhead blightborn dragonless dragon rider girl.”

Blightborn students seemed scared of me half the time. And highbloods were just plain nasty.

I thought of something horrible. “Wait. Please don’t tell me I’m locked into going to this thing with Blake and Regan.”

Florence shook her head and relief flooded through me. “You don’t have to attend with them. Not if Blake hasn’t specifically asked you.”

“He hasn’t. Thank goodness.” But the irrational part of me felt offended that he hadn’t. Which was ridiculous. Despite all that Theo had claimed at the bonfire that night, I knew Blake would go with Regan.

“But you will probably have to dance together at least once,” Florence went on. “It’s tradition.”

“I guess I can manage a single dance.” I tried to imagine slow dancing with Blake Drakharrow and couldn’t quite manage it. “I tried to ask Naveen about the Frostfire Festival but he told me to ask you. He thinks a lot of you, Florence. What’s it like having a friend who adores you so?” I decided to risk teasing her a little.

She laughed. “Naveen is silly. He probably could have given you just as good an answer. What did you want to know?”

I thought for a moment. “So far Frostfire seems so... I don’t know. Sweet? Cozy? Not like a highblood tradition at all. Although Naveen did mention we’d have to visit the Temple of the Bloodmaiden.”

“Yes, that’s true.” Florence bit her lip. “We’re expected to make a blood offering.”

I frowned. “Like on your name day? Why didn’t you ever tell me about that tradition?”

“I guess I never even thought to. Sometimes I forget that you don’t know anything about Sangratha, Medra. Even the most minor things like how we celebrate our name days are new to you.”

“Giving the highbloods some blood on your name day doesn’t seem like much of a celebration to me,” I said with a shudder.

“Well, we’re not giving it to one highblood specifically. We’re offering it to the Bloodmaiden,” Florence replied.

“I still don’t understand what the Bloodmaiden really is. A goddess of some kind?”

Florence nodded. “The story goes that when our world was new, a demigoddess–half mortal, half divine–sacrificed herself and let her blood be spilled to save the world. But her family were determined to avoid her fate. Her mother and father and siblings dipped their head into her blood and drank. She saved them and they were granted immortality.”

“They stole her blood, cheated death because they were too selfish to help her save the world, and were turned into vampires,” I translated.

Florence grimaced. “That’s one way of looking at it. Not an interpretation I’d ever bring up in Professor Hassan’s class.”

I laughed. “I’ll remember not to.”

“Anyhow, some of the demigoddess’s brothers and sisters refused to drink her blood.”

“I don’t blame them,” I chimed in unhelpfully. “Gross.”

“Gross but powerful,” Florence countered. I thought of what Naveen had said. About how Florence harbored great ambitions and might have been happy to be selected as a highblood’s consort. I wondered if it was true. “The brothers and sisters who did not drink remained mortal. A lower life form.”

“Blightborn,” I supplied.

“Right. They were looked down on at first. Then came the histories you’ve already heard in Professor Hassan’s class.”

“The highbloods were the blightborns’ salvation.” I snorted. “I remember.”

“Regardless of what you believe,” Florence went on. “Highbloods and blightborn revere the Bloodmaiden. There are temples devoted to her across Sangratha. Some women even enter into her service and live their entire lives there.” She shot me a curious glance. “Did you know Blake Drakharrow’s mother is in the Sanctum?”

“At a temple?” I said in surprise. “No. How would I have known that? Why?” I was surprised a woman from such a powerful family and house would choose to enter into a life of seclusion.

“When her husband died, she left her family. As far as everyone knows, that’s where she went. To the Bloodmaid’s Sanctum. The most sacred temple in Sangratha. No one has seen her since. I assume Blake and his family are in touch with her somehow though.”

“I don’t like the sound of having to give blood at this place,” I said with a groan.

“It’s not so bad. You’ll see. Naveen and I can go first. You can watch... us...” Florence yawned.