Chapter 15
BLAKE
The dwarven girl, Dani, didn’t say a word when I left her at the door to the First Year common room. She just stumbled over the threshold, her hands still clutching at the ripped bodice of her dress, swaying like she wasn’t sure where she was or what day it was. Her eyes were wide. Too vacant.
I understood all too well—she was still caught in the web of someone else’s will.
Not someone, multiple someones. I’d counted three distinct pairs of bite marks on her neck, neither fresh nor healing.
There was only one reason that would have happened: She wasn’t a single highblood’s thrall, she was being passed around like a shared drink at some horrific feast. Her body was suffering the consequences.
Slower healing, lingering marks, disorientation.
She didn’t deserve that shit. No one did.
I made a mental note to send a House Drakharrow healer down to the First Year tower to check on her later that night. And if Dani wasn’t there when the healer arrived, I’d follow up personally.
As soon as the common room door was closed, I turned and stalked down the hallway.
My senses were still buzzing, heightened from the blood I’d shed.
I’d snapped that blightborn boy like a twig, Lochlan, whatever his name had been.
I hadn’t cared who he was, what he was. He’d touched Pendragon.
Threatened her. That had been enough. I’d seen red.
I closed my eyes for a moment trying to breathe. Willing myself to calm down. But it wasn’t so easy these days. That red haze was always with me, in the back of my mind. Behind my eyes like a veil of blood. The ripple of scales always just beneath my skin. The dragon pacing inside me.
To tell the truth, I couldn’t even remember the moment I’d done it—not clearly.
I could remember the feel, if not the sound, of snapping bone and tendon.
It had felt fucking good. Then, Pendragon was shouting my name, telling me to stop.
And I had, thank the Bloodmaiden, I had.
I’d stopped on the edge of killing again—of ripping out the throat of that blightborn girl.
But the next time, and the time after that?
Would I even hear Pendragon when she called? When she begged me to stop?
I skidded to a halt, pausing in the hallway.
Closing my eyes, I forced myself to imagine it was Pendragon’s throat in my hands.
What if I lost control of myself the next time I was with her, the next time she was bare and vulnerable beside me?
Could it happen? Would I do that? Did I even know myself well enough to answer those questions right now?
I started walking again. What I’d done to the blightborn boy I’d done for her. Everything I’d done so far—well, almost everything—I’d done in service of her. It was different. I tried to convince myself, but fuck me if those weren’t the kinds of lies Marcus would have told.
The truth was that the first time I fed from Pendragon, she hadn’t even wanted it.
I’d told myself our bond made it all right, that her blood was mine by right.
That she was mine by right. I’d told myself exactly what I’d wanted to hear so I could sleep at night.
I still remembered the taste of her, how vivid and sweet she was that first time.
The feel of her, thrashing in my arms. How I’d pinned her, held her still.
How the moment her blood hit my tongue, I’d nearly gone blind from the rush of it.
She’d tasted as good as she’d felt. Like flame and rebellion.
Like pure defiance. Like something I’d never be able to let go of again.
Back then, knowing she hated it, hated me? It only made it better. Sweeter. Hotter. I loathed myself for it now. No matter how good it had felt, that was the past. I wanted Pendragon to want me. The way she’d felt back then, fighting me? It was sick.
I wanted her the way she was now—willing, fighting, but giving.
Letting me take but taking in turn. Still defiant, still stubborn, still pure fire under my hands and mouth.
But the kind of fire that burned without completely destroying everything it touched.
Because I knew one thing for certain now: I didn’t want to destroy Pendragon.
I’d rather destroy myself than hurt her.
Which was why I now found myself standing in the hall outside of the Avari Tower. I needed help, and there weren’t many places I could go to get it. I hated this. Hated needing help. Hated that I had to ask him, of all people, for it. But the alternative was much, much worse.
So I knocked politely on the door like a guest the Avari had invited for dinner. And I smiled when a blightborn Avari boy opened the door, still laughing at whatever conversation he’d been in the midst of having. I ignored how his mouth practically fell open as he recognized me.
“Blake Drakharrow to see Kage Tanaka,” I announced. “At your House Leader’s pleasure.”
The student continued to gape, frozen into stillness. I waited one moment, then another.
“As soon as possible,” I snapped.
That sent him scurrying. Must have been a Second Year. A few minutes later, the door opened again. This time it was a highblood with short, cropped hair and a ring in her nose. “I’m Evie,” she announced. “I’m the House Leader’s Second. I’ll escort you to his suite.”
Thank the Bloodmaiden, this girl actually had a clue what she was doing.
I followed her into the common room, tried to pretend I hadn’t seen it all before.
Followed her up the winding stairs, pretending I didn’t recognize Pendragon’s door as we passed by it.
When we reached a door larger than the others and inlaid with a silver moon glistening with pearls, I knew we’d arrived.
Kage’s Second knocked once and stepped back. “He’s expecting you. I’ll be waiting outside.”
I guess that was supposed to put me on guard. I nodded and forced a tight smile. The door opened. Kage stood on the threshold. I’d never seen him look so disheveled. His hair was tousled, and his clothes were rumpled.
I sniffed. “Is that smoke I smell? Is something on fire?”
“Drakharrow,” Kage said, his voice dry. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
I gritted my teeth. “I need to talk to you.” I glanced at Evie. “Alone.”
Kage leaned against the doorway. “You came here for a little private chat? Why, Drakharrow, I’m honored. But next time, make an appointment in advance.”
“Just let me the fuck in, Tanaka,” I snapped, starting to lose my tenuous thread of patience.
The Avari leader smiled but stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter.
The room was spacious and exceedingly neat with multiple rooms leading off the main sitting area.
The furniture was rich and wellmade, everything in shades of black and gray.
I had to give it to the Avari, they had good taste.
The decor was more understated than in the Drakharrow Tower but no less luxurious.
“Is it bigger than yours?” Kage asked, as I looked around. There was a glint in his eyes.
I glared at him. “Fuck off, Tanaka. Let’s not even go there. You won’t like how that little competition ends.” I fell onto a black velvet chaise and threw my feet up, trying to look more relaxed than I felt. “So, what’s up with you? You look like you’ve been through the wars.”
“Had a little encounter with Nyxaris this afternoon.”
I swung my feet off the sofa. “What? When?”
“Just before you arrived.” He came over to a small side table and started pouring himself a drink. He downed it, then gestured to me. “You want one?”
I shook my head. “What the hell happened?”
He shrugged, pouring out another glass. “Oh, you know. Nyxaris lit up our new headmistress’s office like a beach bonfire.”
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
“Pendragon was there.”
I growled, already halfway to my feet.
“Calm yourself, Drakharrow. She’s fine.” He took a sip. “Professor Hassan didn’t have the same luck, though.”
“Hassan? Professor Hassan who hauled Pendragon and Florence away this afternoon?” I stared at him. “Are you kidding me?”
Kage shook his head. “Apparently, the dragon doesn’t like tattletales. Hassan hid under the desk, a fat load of good that did her.”
I whistled. “And Florence?”
“She’s all right, too. At least, I think she is.”
“You think?”
“She left by way of dragon.” Kage came over to a nearby armchair and sat down, another drink in his hand. “The headmistress survived.”
“Regan? What a fucking relief,” I muttered. Was it my imagination or did the Avari leader’s body tighten at the sound of my former consort’s name?
“Your uncle was there, too. Not that it did our new headmistress much good,” Kage said coolly.
There was definitely a story there, but I decided it wasn’t a good idea to ask. I snorted. “You’re telling me Uncle Viktor didn’t throw himself between the dragon and his new bride? I’m shocked. Really, I am.”
“Your uncle disappeared leaving Regan at the dragon’s mercy. For a moment, I thought she was to be the target of Nyxaris’s wrath—not Hassan.”
I stared at him. “And I take it you did something about that?”
“I may have,” he said, a little stiffly.
I whistled. “Feeling a little sympathy for the headmistress tyrant, are we?”
“She’s not the tyrant,” Tanaka snarled, reminding me of just who and what he was. “Last I remember, proximity to a tyrant or even a family connection didn’t automatically make you just like them.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” I said, staring at him. “But I’m not sure Regan warrants such a strenuous defense.”
“The woman was once your consort,” he reminded me coldly. “You don’t believe you owe her any loyalty or care?”
I laughed lightly. “I think Regan can take care of herself. We grew up together, you know. I think I know her well enough to say she’s probably very happy with her lot in life.”
Tanaka’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”