Chapter 11 #4
But Kage Tanaka had never outright expressed his interest in me—nor me in him.
We’d danced but done no more than that. He was handsome, of course.
Strong, yes. Also annoyingly enigmatic, secretive, and stubborn.
And that was all right. I was starting to accept those things about him.
Overall, we were better off friends. Our connection had never been anything close to what I felt when I was with Blake.
I knew Kage felt a sense of responsibility towards me, a protectiveness, but what he probably didn’t realize was that it went both ways.
We were allies now, like it or not. Bound by blood, but in a very different way from what Blake and I shared.
I looked at Blake. One enigma was enough for me. Something in my heart twisted hard. More than enough.
“I want this,” I said simply. “Let’s take things one step at a time.”
He nodded, but I caught the relief on his face. “As long as we’re clear about one thing, Pendragon.” He looked into my eyes. “I only want you.”
I flushed and looked away. “You know, before I came to Sangratha, I never thought I’d live in a place more fucked-up than Camelot,” I said, shamelessly changing the subject like I’d let him do earlier.
“What was Camelot like?” Blake asked, curiosity written all over his face. “Tell me about it.”
I told him briefly about my life in the Rose Court.
“I was the sole progeny of Pendrath’s king and queen, but I wouldn’t have been permitted to inherit the throne.
When I … left … we’d been in a state of war, with my grandfather and his army encroaching on our kingdom.
My aunt and uncle had gone to find him and finish things.
” Little had they known the role I’d wind up playing in that.
“And your mother? Your father?” Blake asked. “Where were they in all this?”
“My mother died in childbirth. She was fae.” I touched a finger to one pointed ear. “She’d been a famous general once. She had a long life … before my arrival ended it.”
“So you never knew her?” Blake shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t bother to correct him, to tell him my mother and I wound up reconnecting after all, from beyond the grave. If I told him that truth, would he think I was mad? Or would he believe me without questioning it?
Suddenly the words were on the tip of my tongue, wanting to take the chance. Was Blake someone I wanted simply in my bed or someone I could tell my deepest secrets? But before I could speak, he’d changed topics again.
“And your father, he was the king of Camelot?”
“Was, yes,” I said. “He was mortal, not fae. He died the night I was born, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Blake said again.
“I wouldn’t be too sorry,” I said flatly.
“He spent his last night trying to find me so he could kill me. He sent his men out into the streets of Camelot, searching for any newborn babies because he had no idea where my mother might hide me. His soldiers were ordered to slaughter any infant they found. It was a massacre.”
Blake’s eyes were wide. “His people must have hated him.”
“Apparently he had a little change of heart towards the end. After he found me. But that doesn’t change the fact that he was a fucked-up bastard who would probably have killed my mother and me given half a chance.”
“Bloodmaiden, Pendragon,” Blake said slowly. “You’re one-upping me here. I thought I had the most fucked-up family.”
I snorted. “You? Your father was basically a Sangrathan folk hero, from the sounds of it. A vampire they called the Peacebringer? It sounds like a fairy tale. Nothing like the Sangratha I know.”
“Sure, but it sounds like Viktor and your dad would have hit it off,” Blake said with a twisted grin.
I shuddered. “You might have that right.” I looked at him curiously. “What about your mother, Desdemona?”
Blake’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Yes.”
“She’s alive … right? Do you ever see her?”
Blake looked across the room and out the window where snow was falling. “She’s alive, yes. Or so we’re told. When my father died, she decided to enter the Sanctum. Supposedly.”
I raised a brow. “Supposedly?” From what I’d seen of the Sanctum, it seemed the absolute last place I’d want my mother. But I didn’t say that.
“Viktor is our only source of information on her,” he said tightly. “She disappeared one night. Viktor said she was in the Sanctum. She’d left a note, a messy one. She’d never been all that devout, but … I suppose things change. Especially when one is grieving.”
“That’s true,” I said carefully. “But does being in the Sanctum mean she can’t leave? Can’t send messages to her children?”
“Oh, we’ve received messages,” Blake said, his voice bitter.
“All passed through Viktor, of course. Women who enter become priestesses. It’s very exclusive, few are accepted.
To become a priestess at the Sanctum is one of the greatest honors a devout highblood woman can attain.
But usually they enter when they’re a lot older or much younger. ”
“Not when they’re still raising a family,” I said softly.
Blake gave a tight nod.
“Do you think she’s …” I bit my lip “ … safe? Do you trust Viktor?”
Blake laughed harshly. “Not by a fucking long shot—and that’s the problem.
He can access her somehow. He can hurt her.
Hell, he could kill her.” He ran his hands through his hair, hunching over.
“Sometimes,” he said and shook his head, “sometimes I wonder. For all I know, she’s already dead.
” He looked over at me. “She was a halfborn, you know.”
My eyes widened. “Half-blightborn, half-highblood? Like Professor Wispwood? Really?”
“I only found out recently. From Viktor. Well, he didn’t tell me so much as I guessed.”
“What does that mean—for her, for your family? Is it … shameful?”
Blake’s lips thinned. “Shameful? Some would probably think so. But there’s nothing shameful in being who you are. You’re not a highblood, but I …”
I sucked in a breath as our eyes met.
“But I would never consider you less worthy than me,” Blake finished awkwardly.
I gave a small smile. “Not so worried about polluting your bloodline anymore, huh?”
Blake grimaced. “Fuck. I was such a prick.”
“Was?”
He smirked. “I can turn that side back on for you whenever you want, Pendragon.”
I couldn’t help myself: I visibly shivered.
Blake laughed. “You see? You like it. You like me when I’m bad.”
“You’re not bad,” I said automatically. “Just … misunderstood.” Blake hooted. “Sure.”
“Do you really think you’re bad?” I asked curiously. “Last year, when I followed you into Veilmar, I saw you with Rodriguez. What were you really doing there?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “You saw me. I was feeding.”
My face grew hot as I remembered watching him with the sell-blood girl. “No, before that. That wasn’t the only reason you’d gone into the city, was it?”
Slowly he shook his head.
“Just tell me this. Were you doing something good or bad in Veilmar, Blake?” I took a deep breath. “Because I have this theory.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “A theory?”
I nodded. “Yes. A crazy little theory that you were there doing something good.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “You know I’m as bad as they come, Pendragon.”
I threw up my hands. “All right. Don’t tell me.”
“Fine,” he said quickly. “You’re right—kind of. Rodriguez and I …” He paused, looking sheepish. “We were passing out food and medicine in the slums. To blightborn families, children especially. Ones who had … lost someone.”
“Lost someone to highbloods, that is?” I said bluntly.
He nodded. “Look, before my father made some sweeping changes, things were worse than they are now. You need to understand that.”
“I’m shocked he was able to make any changes at all, honestly,” I said.
Blake sighed. “So am I. He was … a very smart, very persuasive person. As was—is—my mother.”
“They must have been an impressive pair,” I said, studying him. “Though, I don’t know how two people like that managed to produce someone like Marcus.”
Blake grimaced. “He’s the worst of our family. Viktor’s true protégé.”
“Your father saw something in highbloods. He was able to get them to make concessions, to treat blightborn more as people and less as prey,” I said slowly.
“But now look at things. Viktor’s put Regan in charge of this entire school.
She has highbloods roaming the halls, treating blightborn students like shit. ”
“Or worse,” Blake said quietly. “There have been deaths already.”
I paled. “Of course there have.” I thought of Naveen. “Why kill us? Why not just make us thralls? What’s it like to be a thrall, anyways?” With a chill I thought of something—something I’d never stopped to consider. “You feed from me, so why aren’t I a thrall? Or am I?”
I sat all the way up and shoved myself across the bed.
“Pendragon, no. Stop. Wait.” Blake’s hands were up, but he wasn’t trying to touch me. He looked tired again. “You’re not a thrall.”
“How am I not?” I demanded.
“Because I’m not fucking using thrallweave on you, am I?” he shot back. “Do you think I’m in your head, controlling you, telling you what to think? Telling you to—” He stopped.
That word again. We kept coming too close to that word.
Blake was breathing hard. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m an asshole, sure. I’m evil, sure—”
“You’re not evil,” I interrupted. “Stop saying that. You went to pass out charity baskets to the poor, for fuck’s sake. That doesn’t exactly sound like the actions of a coldhearted person. I don’t see many highbloods doing it.”
“Some do,” he said, stubbornly. “And it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. You don’t know me, Pendragon. Not all of me. Viktor’s shaped me, more than even I want to admit. If you knew …” He stopped.
I stared at him. “But I don’t know. And you don’t know all of me either. Clearly, there are things we don’t want to tell one another.”
He gave a terse nod. “Maybe.”
I started to say something, but he interrupted me.