Chapter 32
MEDRA
The moment Blake’s spine began to arch and scarlet scales rippled across his skin, Viktor was there.
Shoving Larissa aside, his hands clamped down on my arms, jerking me in front of him like a shield.
I barely registered the pain from his grip; my whole body turned to white heat.
As wings burst from Blake’s shoulders, their surface a rough burnished crimson, something was happening inside of me.
A throb in my gut, blood racing through every vein.
Something good. Strong. Powerful.
I recognized the sensation: highblood power mingling with dragon rider reflexes.
I’d felt it once before—after the first time Blake had convinced me to drink a vial of his blood before the Consort Games.
Then, my senses had been heightened. I’d been able to see farther, move faster.
Blake’s blood had intensified the instincts in my bones, stirring up senses I couldn’t activate on my own.
Now it was happening again, which could only mean one thing: Blake had given me his blood again, recently.
I’d fallen asleep back in his room, and he’d disappeared.
What had really happened in that brief window? What had Blake done?
He’d transformed into a fucking dragon and trashed his own room, nearly killing you in the process, I told myself.
When he returned, he’d been so relieved I was all right and so convinced he’d somehow fixed himself. If this was fixing himself, then I couldn’t imagine how much worse things had been before.
The red dragon Blake had become turned his massive head towards Cade and Professor Allenvale. Hot breath surged from his jaws—a single blast of white-hot fire—and they were gone.
He turned again—this time towards me—and I reached a desperate hand out, only to be yanked back by Viktor.
Then a crash, and the refectory wall was gone—and so was Blake.
The instant he vanished, the power in my blood roared like waves against a cliff. Something inside me longed to follow him, but I’d been left behind. I clamped my teeth together, trying to stop the trembling.
Viktor’s arms tightened around me, misreading my shudder as terror. “That’s right, girl. He’s mine now.”
I turned my head to look up at him and snarled.
He smiled down at me complacently. “Now, what should we do with you?” But the smile was wiped off his face an instant later as the refectory doors burst open.
Everything dissolved into pandemonium. Visha came first, hurling a dagger that sank to its hilt in a Bloodguard’s throat as he rushed towards her.
Vaughn followed at her shoulder, blades clenched in his fists.
He dropped into a low position we’d learned in Professor Stonefist’s class, scything the legs from an armored highblood girl, and then sprang past her, pivoting to slam his elbow into another Bloodguard’s jaw.
I didn’t see the moment Theo broke free of his captors, but soon he was next to Vaughn, the pair moving back to back, their timing impeccable as Vaughn sliced openings and Theo finished opponents off with highblood-swift strikes.
Behind Visha and Vaughn thundered Professor Sankara.
The burly ebony-skinned instructor gripped an iron war hammer in one enormous fist and a shield in the other.
A second wave followed right behind him.
There, leading a group of students decked out in familiar purple and gold, came Lysander Orphos.
His long silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he carried a slender steel saber that he jerked effortlessly through every Bloodguard who tried to stop him.
The sound of clashing blades rang out. Tables that weren’t already overturned toppled.
Screams and cries filled the air. And meanwhile, there I stood, pinned to Viktor—Blake’s blood mingling with my own, running through my veins like a fire about to ignite.
Blake’s uncle began to yank me backwards towards the dais—and the fire inside me erupted in a blaze.
Strength flooded my limbs. I stamped hard on Viktor’s instep, driving my elbow back into his ribs, then scooping a fallen rapier off the floor and whirling to face him.
He straightened, lips peeling back in a sneer.
Then he lifted his hands, and I watched in horror as his nails lengthened, sharpening into black talons, too large and too cruel to belong to any mortal creature.
They were like Blake’s. Like Nyxaris’s. Draconic.
Viktor Drakharrow was part fucking dragon.
I bared my teeth and ran towards him. He slashed forward, moving faster than any highblood I’d ever seen. I jerked my head aside, but it was too late. His claws raked my cheek. Blood splattered as pain flared bright, only to quickly dull beneath the strength Blake’s blood was infusing me with.
“So you can sprout wings of your own?” I challenged. “You really are a fucking coward, Viktor. Why not fight your own battles instead of getting Blake to do it for you?”
His eyes burned. “Because, unlike me, your archon is expendable. I should have made you kneel the moment I first laid eyes on you, girl.”
“So why didn’t you?” I spat. “You missed your chance. And here I am. Blake won’t torch Veilmar for you. He’ll never be what you want. He’s not a trained hound.”
Viktor’s smile grew. “He’s out there right now, raining down fire in my name—what’s more, he’s enjoying it. You know it’s true.”
My heart convulsed as the words penetrated me. I had to pray he was wrong.
Viktor rushed forward again—faster than that ruined, monstrous old body had any right to be able to move—and swung both taloned hands at me in a brutal crosscut.
I managed to partly parry, but his second blow raked low across my torso.
Agony flared as gouges opened up across my stomach and hips, blood soaking through the heavy sweater.
I gasped, staggering, as Viktor wheeled again, scraping his claws along my forearm, skin peeling back under the strength of his curving hooks.
The pain threatened to drop me, but Blake’s blood thundered in my veins, giving me life, giving me the strength to keep standing.
Across the wreckage of the ballroom, I glimpsed Visha and Lysander breaking a path through one of the last knots of Bloodguards. They were fighting shoulder to shoulder.Visha’s twin daggers flicked in and out as she caught my eye. We’re coming, her eyes said.
Viktor sprang forward. This time I met his claws with my sword, knocking them aside with ease.
I ignored the blood flowing from my body, ignored the pain.
Viktor’s eyes flickered to my torso, as if expecting me to fall at any time.
But I could feel my wounds already knitting together. Highblood healing at its finest.
“You’re weak, old man, and you’re losing. Unless you’d like to show us your true colors. What color is your dragon, anyhow, or can you even turn all the way? Is that your real secret? Are you an impotent little dragon?” I mocked.
“I should have slaughtered you the moment you appeared,” he snarled.
“So which is it?” I taunted, circling him, blade stretched out.
“Should you have made me kneel or killed me? Guess what? It doesn’t matter.
Because I’m here now. But something tells me, Viktor, that your time is running out.
Look around you—no one wants you as their king.
And the ones that do won’t be standing long. ”
“Blake would never betray me. His loyalty lies with House Drakharrow. One command from me and this school becomes ash—you and your friends along with it.”
“Wrong. Blake’s loyalty lies with me, and it has from the moment you bound us together,” I snarled.
“When are you going to realize what a huge fucking mistake you made, Viktor? Blake belongs to us now. He isn’t just a highblood, anymore.
He doesn’t belong to House Drakharrow alone—and neither do I.
We’re Avari. We’re Orphos. We’re Mortis.
We’re blightborn. We are every house you’ve tried to shatter.
We’re the enemy you’ve always feared would someday appear at the fucking front gates.
” I backed a step up, tempting him to come at me.
“You know what I really think? I think you’ve been afraid of us all along.
Afraid of Blake and what you knew he was capable of. Afraid of me and what I am.”
Viktor chuckled. “What you are, girl? What you are is less than nothing. You have no dragon. You’re worthless. Your life is a drop of blood to be smeared into the dust beneath highblood feet.” His eyes blazed. For a moment, I thought he would do it, erupt into his full draconic form.
A roar shook the rafters.
“No dragon, you said?” I whispered.
Viktor’s face paled. His form blurred. And in the span of a breath, he was simply … gone.