Текст книги "On wings of blood"

Автор книги: Briar Boleyn

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Текущая страница: 25 (всего у книги 36 страниц)

“We should go to sleep,” I said guiltily, remembering how hard she’d been studying. “You need your rest.”

“Sounds good,” Florence said dreamily.

The room was quiet for a while. Then she spoke again. “Who do you think I should go with, Medra?”

“Naveen,” I said promptly. “You’ll have fun with Naveen.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” She yawned again. “Even though he probably only asked me because he thought no one else had. He had a girlfriend back home, you know.”

“I know,” I said. “But they broke up, right?”

But there was no answer. Florence had fallen asleep.

In another few minutes, so did I.

There were no more dragons in my dreams that night.

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CHAPTER 37 – MEDRA

A few weeks passed by.

Wintermark term exams came and went.

I’d passed all of my classes. I’d even surprised myself with some of my marks. I’d received a C (Commendable) in Restoration with Professor Rodriguez. Part of me thought he was as surprised as I was. I couldn’t do healing magic, but the theory was fascinating and I was excited to get into more alchemy work in the next part of the course. I’d gotten the highest mark possible in Basic Combat for Blightborns–an E for Excellent, and another Commendable in Advanced Weaponry with Professor Sankara, which I thought was more than fair considering the incident with Blake.

The only class I’d received the second-to-last lowest mark possible, a W for Weak, was History of Sangratha. The class itself was engrossing. Professor Hassan’s lectures were usually full of interesting historical tidbits. But she’d hated me since that first day I’d arrived late and no matter how I tried to keep out of her way and no matter how hard I worked on my essays, nothing improved. She’d actually failed me on one paper and accused me of plagiarism. So I was thrilled to have passed with a W. It was better than flunking out completely.

Florence’s marks were all stellar which was no surprise. Es across the board. And Naveen seemed happy with his marks, too, though he wouldn’t show them to us.

Ever since Florence had accepted his invitation to the ball, he’d been looking a little high strung. But I put that down to his nervousness over the Dance of the Longest Night. Not only was he worried about his solo but now Florence would be there on his arm.

Since the night of the second quake, my dreams had changed.

Blake had been banished. He’d been replaced by the dragon.

The dreams were all pretty much the same. Bloodwing was crumbling around me. Sometimes I was running through the halls and trying to save Florence or Naveen or Vaughn or other random blightborn students.

All while a huge dragon with massive flapping wings rose up out of the rubble, roaring all the while.

There had been a few more tremors, but they’d happened during the daytime and Florence had been right–none of the professors seemed very concerned.

Now we’d reached the last day of term. It was lunchtime. I walked down the corridor with Florence towards the refectory, my breath fogging in the chilly air.

The weather had turned bitingly sharp and a heavy snow covered the campus. But despite the cold, Bloodwing was buzzing with anticipation for the upcoming school break and the Frostfire Festival. Most of the First Year students seemed to be staying at school for the break rather than returning home.

While Naveen and Florence were going to the Dance of the Longest Night together, I had no date for the ball. No one had even asked me. But I was determined not to get in their way by being a third wheel.

I’d told Florence I’d found out I had to go with Blake and Regan. It was a lie, but she’d bought it. Now I could stay out of the way and let her and Naveen get in some alone time. I’d be fine on my own. I’d play the wallflower, staying on the sidelines and watching the dancing, participating only if I absolutely had to. Then I’d leave as early as was acceptable.

As we rounded a corner, my thoughts still wandering, I stopped dead in my tracks as a tall figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking our path.

Another instant and I’d recognized who it was.

Kage Tanaka.

The highblood house leader had an oversized presence. He was nearly as tall as Blake. He stood with his back straight, legs spread in a rigid posture that spoke of someone used to maintaining authority. His white-blond hair, gathered in a bun at the back of his head, with the sides shaved close, gave him a fierce, edgy look. His crescent moon tattoo peeked up over the high collar of his black, silver trimmed jacket.

“Miss Pendragon.” His voice was rich and smooth. But there was a sharp edge underneath that told me not to underestimate him. “I wondered if I might have a moment of your time?” He glanced at Florence. “Alone.”

Florence looked at me questioningly. When I nodded, she slipped down the hall ahead of us. I knew she’d grab a table in the refectory and wait for me.

“Kage,” I said, my voice wary. “What do you want?”

“Medra, isn’t it? Such a beautiful name. May I have your permission to use it?”

I hesitated. “I suppose so.”

It would be a refreshing change from Blake constantly snapping “Pendragon.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Medra. I’ve been watching you for quite some time now.”

My head spun at this revelation. “Have you? Why?” I thought of that night at the bonfire. Kiernan had claimed Kage wanted us to join him. It had seemed to be true, but I hadn’t thought anything of it since then.

The leader of House Avari gave me a small, knowing smile. “Let's just say I admire your spirit. It’s rare to see someone so...unyielding.”

“Unyielding towards highbloods, you mean?”

He nodded. “If you want to put it that way. You stand apart here. Others in your position might have broken.”

“I don’t break easily,” I snapped. Though it had been a close call at times.

“I respect that.” Kage's dark eyes lingered on my face, appraising me with a slow, deliberate gaze that made my stomach flip. “Maybe it’s the hair. Like the fire of a dragon, you’re impossible to tame.”

What exactly was happening here? Was Kage Tanaka really paying me compliments?

“Well, thank you,” I said slowly. “But that doesn't answer my question. What do you want?”

Kage leaned against the wall, his black eyes watching me carefully. “I want you to come with me to the Dance of the Longest Night.”

I blinked, unsure I’d heard him correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

“I want you to be my date for the ball.” His tone was matter-of-fact, as if it were the most natural request in the world. “That is, unless you already have one.”

I didn’t. He knew I didn’t. Somehow.

“Why me?” I asked, my voice coming out sharper than I’d intended. “You could ask anyone. You’re a House Leader.”

“Because you don’t belong at Drakharrow’s side. He doesn’t deserve you. And you know it.” His voice dipped, becoming more intense. “You’re not a girl who belongs at the feet of someone like Blake. I know you wish you had never been shackled to him by his uncle. Why not show him you’ll never belong to him?”

“You think I'm going to go with you just to spite Blake?”

“Let me show you that you don’t have to be just a pawn in the Drakharrows’ game.” He gave me a slow grin. “If you accept, I can promise you one thing, Medra. I’ll make sure to give you the night you really deserve.”

I swallowed, unsure of how to respond to that. It was an invitation, in more ways than one.

Was I really considering going to the ball with a highblood? What would Naveen and Florence say?

I knew there was more to this. Kage wasn’t just being nice. He wanted to use me as leverage against Blake. But did it really matter? When that was exactly what I’d be using him for, too?

“Can consorts even attend with someone other than their archon?” I asked carefully.

Kage shrugged. “It’s not specifically forbidden, but it’s rare. I have no problem with us being the exception. I’m not one to play by the rules.” He took a step towards me. “You're impossible to ignore, Medra. There’s something unique about you and it’s not just your rider blood. You deserve to be treated with respect. Not as some obligation.”

The way he said my name, the way he held my eyes with his... Kage’s charm was undeniable, yes, but I wasn’t naive enough to fall for it completely. He probably didn’t mean a single word he said.

But if I could use him right back... Salvage something of the ball. I imagined what Blake would think when he saw me standing beside the school House Leader. His rival.

Kage was right about one thing. I didn’t belong to Blake. Maybe this would be a way to prove that once and for all.

“By the way, there’s something Drakharrow probably never thought it worthwhile to tell you about a triad union,” Kage said, his dark eyes gleaming with a challenge. “If you refuse to accept the bond, they may not be able to hold you to it.”

My heart started to pound. “What do you mean? Are you saying there’s a way out of this?”

“Not yet. But if things go on the way they have been between you two then Blake may never be able to feed from your blood. Not properly, anyhow. He won’t be able to draw power from your blood if you don’t give your consent. Consorts are supposed to strengthen their archon but you’d be a hindrance. You’d be free of him in the one way that really mattered.”

Excitement sped through me, but I tried to tamp it down, still suspicious of Kage’s motives. “But if we did bond fully?”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

But Kage just smirked. “Consorts take lovers all the time. It’s accepted. Highbloods are rarely satisfied with just one or even two partners. Blake won't be able to stop you from enjoying the pleasures of life.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. How much freedom would I really have when I finally left Bloodwing Academy? I suspected the Drakharrows planned to keep me somewhere on their own terms and that I wouldn’t be given much fresh air. That is, if I didn’t get away from them somehow first.

Making Kage my ally might not be such a terrible idea.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.”

Kage’s dark eyes sparkled with amusement. He straightened and stepped away from the wall. “Don’t take too long.”

He gave me one last lingering look before disappearing down the hall.

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CHAPTER 38 – MEDRA

The Frostfire Festival had officially begun.

As night fell on the first day of the festival, a grand procession of students, professors, and house leaders set off from Bloodwing Castle. First and Second Years were bundled into carriages with Bloodwing’s faculty, six or eight at a time, while some of the older students and the house leaders led the way on horseback.

This was the Night of Silent Offerings, in which we would make our way to the Bloodmaid’s Sanctum and be expected to give up some of our blood in a fucked up highblood tradition.

My nerves were on edge as I found myself seated between Florence and Naveen in one of the carriages. They were talking about the festival, but even though I tried to keep up, my mind was elsewhere.

Last night I’d sent an acceptance note to Kage Tanaka. I had no idea if I’d made the right choice but I was committed now.

The carriage rocked slightly from the strong winter wind coming off the sea as we crossed the long, iron bridge leading towards Veilmar. Once we reached the mainland, we turned east and passed over another bridge, this one leading to the island that housed the Sanctum.

As our procession neared, the temple came into view.

Perched like a white nest on a dark cliff, the Sanctum was striking in the winter’s twilight. Built from luminous white stones, it gleamed like a pearl against the stormy sea, soaring into the sky, its center dominated by narrow spires that rose in jagged symmetry. The closer we came, the more the building’s sheer size became evident.

I exchanged a glance with Florence, who gave me a small, reassuring smile. I’d told her about Kage’s invitation. She’d been shocked but supportive.

Naveen was staring out the carriage window, wide-eyed. I knew he had been to temples before, but this was his first time visiting the Sanctum. Normally it was reserved solely for highbloods. There were other temples in Veilmar where blightborn were welcome to worship.

When the carriages halted, we were escorted out, faculty and house leaders guiding us through the outer gates.

I looked over at the grand doors of the Sanctum. An image of the Bloodmaiden had been carved into the white stone lintel. Her expression was serene, her hands cupped, as though she held her own lifeblood in them. I shivered.

As we made our way closer, lanterns lit the path, illuminating the towering white walls ahead of us.

The House Leaders and the faculty moved among us, talking quietly amongst themselves. They had all done this before. Tonight was nothing new for any of them, even the blightborn Professor Rodriguez or the halfborn Professor Wispwood.

Blake walked among the rows of students. His black cloak caught the breeze and it billowed out around him, as he swaggered about as if he owned the place.

We had been instructed to remain silent once we reached the Sanctum and already a hush had fallen over the students.

Two doorways marked the entrance as we approached. One for blightborn, the other for highbloods. It was pretty clear which was which.

Around the blightborn archway were carved symbols of cupped hands dripping blood.

By contrast, the highblood door was more ornate, with shining brass inlays in which reliefs had been etched of vampires standing tall and proud, their hands raised as they reached up to cup the Bloodmaid’s chalice.

We filed through the archways in two lines. Most of the blightborn students around me were silent and walked with their heads down, as if in reverence. I was not about to imitate them. I wasn’t going to bow my head in this place.

The highblood students were less disciplined. They whispered in hushed tones, their voices carrying through the quiet.

A few professors made their way through the crowd, shushing them. I watched as Professor Rodriguez marched up to where Regan stood whispering and laughing with Quinn and Gretchen.

“Shut up.” Rodriguez’s cold voice cut through the night air.

Regan looked so shocked that I had to stop myself from laughing.

“Don't make me have to tell you girls to be quiet a second time or you'll all have detentions with me, winter break or not.”

Regan scowled but fell silent as Rodriguez stomped away.

We had neared the archway. Florence and Naveen walked through the blightborn doorway first. I followed.

Inside, the interior of the temple atrium was vast and lit only with flickering candles. Beyond the atrium I could see the nave and part of the inner sanctuary, where the blood offering would take place. Rows of white stone benches were divided by two broad aisles. On the far end stood an altar, a solid white slab of marble over which towered a statue of the Bloodmaiden, her hands in the cupped position.

I watched as, one by one, blightborn students approached the altar. Each was handed a small ceremonial dagger by a temple votary. With a quick slice across the palm, they let a few drops of their blood fall into a silver basin at the altar’s base.

Afterwards they knelt in prayer, as if paying homage to the Bloodmaiden’s sacrifice. Ironic, as I didn’t see how any of them had actually benefited from it.

The highblood students did not offer blood. Instead, they approached the altar from a different aisle, moving towards it with a practiced formality. They bowed their heads in silent prayer as they neared the altar, kneeling down and murmuring words of devotion before taking a small red tablet from a silver tray offered by one of the votaries, each of whom wore flowing white robes cinched at the waist with red braid. Florence had already told me the tablets were each stained with a single drop of blightborn blood and represented the Bloodmaiden’s sacrifice.

I watched in revulsion as each highblood placed a tablet in their mouth, then swallowed it.

As I stood in line, waiting my turn, I felt like even more of an outsider than usual, here in this ancient place of vampire rites and mysteries. I pulled my cloak a little tighter around me. Did I really have to go through with this barbaric ceremony and offer up blood to a goddess I had absolutely no intention of ever worshiping?

After my experiences in Aercanum, I’d had enough of so-called gods and goddesses for one lifetime.

As I stepped forward in the line, my hood slipped from my head. I shook my curls out, letting my hair free now that we were out of the blustering wind. As I did, my gaze was pulled to Blake. He had approached one of the votaries. All of them were women. I wondered if male highbloods were permitted to serve in the Sanctum.

Blake was pointing to me. I felt a prickle of unease as the votary's expression changed instantly, her eyes widening as she took in my hair. She clutched her robes in her hands and then hurriedly crossed over to where Professor Sankara was standing on the other side of the foyer. The highblood teacher had been looking bored. Now he snapped to attention as the votary whispered something urgently into his ear. His silver brows knitted together as his dark eyes slid towards me.

Blake had moved to join Sankara and the votary. Now the three of them conferred in hushed voices, with unmistakable glances in my direction.

I scowled. What now? Would I have to give more than the usual amount of blood? I had a bad feeling it would be something like that.

My pulse quickened as Blake broke away from the group and came towards me.

“Pendragon,” he barked, breaking the silence. Every student around me snapped their heads in our direction. “Get out of the line.”

I blinked. “Why?”

“You don’t need to make an offering,” Blake said, his voice brusque. “You’re exempt. Like the highbloods.”

I frowned. Little did he know that was the worst possible thing he could have said to get me to do what he wanted. “But I thought...”

“Don’t think,” he snapped, gray eyes narrowing. “Get out of the line, Pendragon. Now. That’s an order.”

My heart raced as my natural defiance threatened to bubble up. Then I realized how stupid I was being. Of course, I didn't actually want to have to make an offering.

“Fine,” I muttered, stepping out of the line, with a shrug in Florence and Naveen’s direction. “What now?”

“Now you wait.” Blake smiled smugly. “Unless you’d prefer to enter the nave and pray quietly.”

“No, thank you,” I said quickly, managing to bite my tongue and not share what I really thought about the whole revolting proceedings.

I walked away from him to stand in a quiet recess flanked by two tall white marble pillars. As I leaned against the wall, I thought about Blake’s dismissive command. Kage was right. Blake didn’t respect me. Best scenario, we were trapped with one another. Worst case, he wanted to use me. Either way, I was determined to break free. I might be stuck in this world, but that didn’t mean I had to be tied to him.

I froze as two familiar voices drifted towards me.

Regan and Quinn. The two girls must have finished their prayers at the altar and now were walking around the outer perimeter of the foyer, out of the professors’ earshot. If I stayed where I was, they wouldn’t be able to see me.

I quickly found myself caught up in their whispered conversation.

“Another boring offering night,” Quinn griped. “I can’t believe we have to wait while all of these cattle are bled.” I scowled, knowing she meant the blightborn. “My knees hurt from kneeling on that stone step. Do you think we prayed long enough?”

“We looked like perfectly pious highblood bitches,” Regan answered.

They both snickered.

“Besides,” Regan continued. “I’d have thought you’d be used to going down on your knees by now. I’ve heard it’s all you do for Edward Ashveil.”

“Don’t you dare judge me, bitch. It fucking worked, didn’t it?” Quinn said with a laugh. “He begged his father and I’ve been approved as one of his consorts. I’ll be in the Games with you this year. Making it nice and official.”

Oh, great. Quinn was going to be part of the Consort Games. I doubted that boded well for me.

“Are you going to the Adoration Rite this year?” Quinn asked Regan.

“I’m not invited. Not until I’m officially Blake’s consort,” Regan muttered. Interesting. So it wasn’t completely official yet. What Kage had claimed might be the truth. “I can’t believe it. It’s not like I’m some random blightborn. They know I’m with Blake. We’ve been betrothed for years. I’m entitled to attend.”

I suppressed a snort of laughter. She was entitled all right.

Quinn made a sympathetic noise.

“It's not fair,” Regan went on. I could practically picture her pouting. “Blake can go if he wants to. He’s Lord Drakharrow’s nephew and a House Leader. He can basically do whatever he pleases. But he says he can’t bring me with him.”

I wondered if Blake actually could but just didn’t want to.

“My father is going,” Quinn said. “He’s in Lord Drakharrow’s inner circle. He says this year will be very exclusive. Lord Drakharrow has something special planned.”

“Well, exclusive or not,” Regan replied testily. “By next year I’ll be a full consort if all goes well at the Games. They won’t be able to keep me out.”

“I wonder who they’ve found to play the Bloodmaiden for the Rite this year,” Quinn mused. “She’s always lowborn trash, but some years I’ve heard she can be quite pretty. I’ve heard girls fight for the part. It’s a great honor for a blightborn girl.”

Regan scoffed. “Of course it’s an honor. She’s pampered before the rite, treated like she’s some sort of queen. No wonder they compete just to be chosen. It’s the only time they hold any value in their entire pathetic lives.”

“But the girl never gets to go home,” Quinn pointed out, sounding almost doubtful.

“Please. She gets to stay in the Sanctum. With highbloods all around her. Living in luxury in the most holy place in Sangratha. A blightborn girl would never have it so good wherever she comes from. Most of them live in complete squalor, you know. Have you seen some of those hovels they call homes in Veilmar? Blightborn don’t deserve the honor, if you ask me,” Regan snapped.

My stomach twisted, but I stayed perfectly still, listening.

Regan and Quinn were talking about this rite as if it were some kind of fairy tale for the blightborn girl. But I didn’t see it that way. Nothing good ever came of being chosen by a highblood.

“I wonder if Marcus Drakharrow will play the First Highblood this year,” Quinn said, her tone gossipy. “He’s so good-looking. Even more handsome than Blake.”

“Are you joking? Blake is better-looking by far,” Regan said, sounding annoyed. “And Blake doesn’t have Marcus’s disgusting reputation with women. Besides we won’t be there to see it, so why hope? Maybe your Edward will be selected for the part next year. Now that would be something to see.”

“He does have some fine...endowments,” Quinn admitted.

Both girls broke into giggles, which they quickly stifled.

I remembered Marcus. I’d seen him that day on the dais in the Black Keep. He resembled Blake, but was broader, a few inches shorter. I wondered if he was stronger. Did that come even with just a few years’ age difference?

“Maybe it’ll be Lord Drakharrow playing the role,” Regan said, lowering her voice. “Father says the council has encouraged him to take the part. Either way, it’s sure to be someone powerful.”

“Ew, gross,” Quinn complained. “Lord Drakharrow? Can you imagine? Maybe Blake will do it next year. Wouldn’t that be an honor?” I could tell she was trying to goad Regan.

“No, I don’t think so,” Regan said, her tone frosty. “I’d tell him not to do it. You know he always listens to me.”

I managed to suppress a snort of skepticism. The two girls’ voices faded away as they started walking again.

I stayed where I was, trying to piece together all that they’d said. The Adoration Rite. A blightborn girl to play the Bloodmaiden. A highblood man to play First Highblood. Something told me this rite wasn’t like the Night of Silent Offerings. This was something darker. And Blake might be involved.

I clenched my hands into fists, mind already made up.

I’d attend this Adoration Rite myself and find out what was really going on.

There was only one problem: I’d have to find a way to get there.

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