CHAPTER 4 - MEDRA
Two Months Later
Candlelight flickered across the stone walls of my room. It was a beautiful warm night. One of the last summer evenings. I could almost appreciate it. If I ignored the fact I was enjoying it from prison.
I moved to stand by one of the high-arched windows, running my hand over the crimson curtain that hung there, embroidered with black thread in swirling patterns that reminded me of dragon wings.
I tugged at my dress. Black wool, tight in the waist but loose in the skirt, with short sleeves. The skirt was cut at the knee and I wore tight black leggings underneath. The sleeves of the dress bore the House Drakharrow motto along each one, written in a beautiful script that stood out in red thread. Everything about the outfit felt suffocating. Once again I was branded with the highblood mark.
I touched a hand to my hair. I’d pulled the long red curls into a low braid, but a few loose strands were clinging to my skin. I pushed one of the windows open to let a cool sea breeze drift in. A little better.
The knock I’d been dreading came, but Blake didn’t wait for an answer. The door simply opened and he strode right in, as if he owned not just the room, but everything within it.
He was every bit the highblood prince tonight—haughty and devastatingly handsome. Over the summer, his pale gold hair had grown just past his chin, enough to sweep it back and secure it with a leather strip at the nape of his neck. The style suited him, baring the sharp angles of his face and lending him an air of authority. The style made him look more intimidating, revealing the sharp angles of his face. He’d taken to going a few days between shaving over the summer. He hadn’t quite grown a beard, but the stubble did nothing to soften his features.
Now his lips curved into a sardonic smile and I glimpsed his fangs.
I’d set up two chairs by the fire, making sure to leave a foot of space in between.
We’d done this before. Once a week, all summer. It was the only time I had to see him, thank the gods. My meals were brought to my room. A servant escorted me for walks on the grounds once a day. And after the first few days of trying to get me to talk, Blake left me alone.
Our little feeding dates had become a regular pattern. But I wasn’t planning on continuing this way forever.
I sat down in the high-backed chair and stretched my arm stiffly over the armrest.
“Well? Let’s get this over with,” I snapped.
Blake raised an eyebrow, but took a seat in the chair beside me, his movements slow and deliberate. He wanted this to take as much time as possible. He wanted to drag things out, provoke me. I gritted my teeth but said nothing, just stared straight ahead into the fire.
He took my wrist, his fingers curling around it with a surprising gentleness that only made me feel angrier. The warmth of his hand was jarring. His thumb brushed against my pulse and for a moment, I felt my treacherous heart stutter.
“This would be easier,” he said, leaning towards me, his voice low. “If you’d stop pretending you hate it.”
My head snapped towards him, fire flaring in my breast. “Don’t fucking flatter yourself. If I could, I’d let you starve.”
His grip tightened. Not enough to hurt. But enough to remind me of his strength.
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” I said, hearing my voice tremble slightly. “Or that I will ever, ever trust you.”
Blake’s gaze slid over me. “And this,” he said, sounding at once bored and haughty as he lifted my wrist a little. “Doesn’t mean I care.”
“How could you ever think I would want this?” I hissed. “Don’t ever forget I wish I could just let you rot.”
Blake froze, his lips hovering an inch from my wrist. “Oh, I won’t forget, Pendragon. But we both know what would happen if you tried. You’re not stupid enough to test me.”
My lips curled. “Maybe I should.”
“You won’t,” he countered, his voice a low growl. “Because you know exactly what would happen. I’d tell my uncle the truth. That you have absolutely no control over that dragon.”
“You don’t even know that for a fact,” I retorted. “What makes you think Viktor would even believe you?”
He smirked. “Just face it, Pendragon. You’re helpless without me. I’m your only hope at bluffing your way through this.”
“That’s what you’d like to think, isn’t it?” I spat. “I think the first thing I’ll have Nyxaris do when he returns is burn you to a crisp. No more feedings. Problem solved.”
He laughed. “If you could have, you’d have done it already. So why haven’t you? Because you have no control. And if Viktor finds out...”
I flushed angrily. “Why are you even still here? Oh, that’s right. Because you need me. So get on with it. Drink already.”
Blake glared but didn’t reply. Just lifted my wrist a little higher and moved his mouth to my skin.
The bite was sharp. His fangs pierced my skin with practiced ease. Pain lanced through my arm, followed by the strange, nauseating pull of the blood leaving my body. Not for the first time, I thought of the girl at the Drained Rose. I shuddered. How could anyone ever find this pleasurable?
Blake paused, as if he had felt my tremor.
I ignored him, staring at the fire and refusing to even look at him. Refusing to acknowledge the inherent intimacy of what he was doing to me.
When he finally pulled back, his lips were stained crimson. His lips were stained with me .
He wiped the back of his hand across them languidly, clearly in no hurry. “You make this so much harder than it needs to be, Pendragon.”
“You think I care about making things easier for you?” I said sharply. “Next time, you’ll drink it from a vial.”
His face darkened. “I certainly won’t.”
“Why not?” I demanded, rising to my feet and grabbing a scarf to wrap around my wrist. I’d known he’d refuse. “Rodriguez said it can be done. I asked him. I’ll draw the blood myself, and you’ll...”
“No.” Blake cut me off, his voice emphatic. “That’s not how this works. I’m not an animal you can feed scraps to. If I have to endure this, so do you.”
My blood was boiling. I wondered if I could actually burn him with my anger. If only it was that easy. “You’re unbelievable. You’ve already taken everything from me. My blood, my freedom. Yet you act as if you’re the one suffering somehow.”
“You think I wanted this? To be bound to someone who hates me, someone who...”
“You love it,” I snapped. “I think you fucking love it. As if whatever you had going on with Regan wasn’t just as toxic. As if someone like you even knows what it’s like to really respect another person.”
He stared at me, then shook his head stubbornly. “Whatever. You’re boring me, Pendragon.” He stood up and started to move towards the door, then paused. “Don’t worry about the tribunal tomorrow. That’s why you’re really so upset tonight, isn’t it? Everyone knows where you stand. You’re House Drakharrow’s. And you’re mine.”
My pulse spiked. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
His lips twisted. “You should stop lying to yourself. Everyone belongs to someone here. Even me.”
“Maybe you should learn to stop seeing the world that way,” I suggested. “Not everyone is just a possession or something to be used and discarded on a highblood’s whim. Not even when it’s your uncle.”
“Maybe not everyone,” Blake said softly. “But certainly you.”
For a moment, I held my breath. Was he serious?
“Do you even believe half of the horrible things you say?” I demanded, my voice trembling.
Something dark crossed his eyes. His gaze dropped to my wrist. “I believe you’re wasting my time.”
“Then get the hell out,” I almost shouted.
He smirked. “Don’t lose any sleep over tomorrow. You’ll make it through.”
I clenched my jaw. Was that supposed to be a pep talk? Reassurance?
Being reminded that I might make it through the tribunal only because of where I stood in relation to Blake and House Drakharrow was not comforting.
The door clicked shut behind him and I slumped back into the chair by the fire, cradling my wrist.
For a moment I let myself imagine how it might have been. Without the weight of everything that had broken us. Blake’s betrayal, the tribunal, the dragon.
But if Blake thought he’d come out the victor in all of this, he was wrong.