I smirked, trying not to let him get to me. “You have no idea.” I frowned. “Why does it matter though?”

“Because this is the school you’ll be attending. Beginning tomorrow.”

My jaw dropped. “What?”

“It’s the most exclusive institution in Sangratha. You should be...”

“Honored,” I supplied. “Funny how I’m not though.”

He started walking towards an arched stone walkway.

“Where are you going?” I demanded, running to catch up.

“I thought I’d show you a few important things. Like where your room will be. Where you’ll eat. And where you should be tomorrow morning when the bells ring to summon you to the first day of class.”

“Oh, really? And where will you be during all of this?”

“I’m a third year student,” he began. “So I’ll be...”

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. “You? You’re a student here? Aren’t you a hundred years old? I thought you were a vampire prince.”

He glared at me. “I’m closer to your age than you might think. And I may be a prince of my house, but even princes attend the Academy. Nobles from around the kingdom send their sons and daughters to Bloodwing. It’s not like a school for mortal children, like you may be thinking. This is a school for...” He searched for the right word. “Forging us into who we’ll be as adults. Establishing us as the most powerful elite of Sangratha. We are the kingdom’s future rulers, after all.”

I eyed him up and down, taking in his lean, well-muscled frame. “You look pretty adult to me already.”

“Was that an accidental compliment, Pendragon?”

I made a sour face. “Absolutely not.”

But it was his turn to smirk. “In any case, we spend three or four years at the Academy, depending on our specialty.”

“Specialty?”

He paused along the stone corridor, his face impatient. “By the Bloodmaiden. Fine. Let’s get this over with. I keep forgetting how completely ignorant you are.”

I ignored the insult. After all, it sounded like these were things I needed to know.

“There are many highblood houses in Sangratha,” he continued. “But four have always run the kingdom and it is these four which lead the school. Each one represents an ancient vampire bloodline. House Drakharrow–that’s my house. House Avari. House Orphos.”

“And House Mortis,” I supplied.

When he looked surprised, I shrugged. “I listened.”

“Fine. You know one miniscule piece of information about my world. Good for you.”

What an ass. “What about Regan? Her last name isn’t any of those four. But she was still standing up there with your uncle on the dais.”

“She’s a Pansera. Regan comes from a very noble house though it’s not one of the ruling four. Here at the Academy, she falls under House Drakharrow. All of the nobles, regardless of their surnames, are aligned with one of the four houses and can trace their lineage back to one of the four bloodlines, however distantly.”

“So you and Regan are related?” I snickered. “Strange customs you have.”

He rolled his eyes. “Our betrothal was arranged for us when we were children. You wouldn’t understand. Look, just try not to look any more foolish than you already do. You’ll be embarrassing me enough already. It’s bad enough you’re linked to us now.”

“How about you don’t tell me what to do?”

He crossed his arms and took a step towards me. I held my ground. “You’d better get used to it, Pendragon. I’m the house leader. You answer to me. In every way.”

I crossed my arms, mirroring him, and refusing to back away. “We’ll see about that.”

He chose to ignore me and continued his speech. “As I was saying, Bloodwing Academy is grouped by the four houses. And within each house are squads.”

“Squads?”

“Units of up to fifty. You won’t have to worry about them in your first year. It’s a military tradition. In times of war, it meant that our generals were always prepared and ready with young leaders and support staff at hand to replace any who fell.”

“And do you battle a great deal, your kingdom?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“You’ll learn about that in your classes,” he said, dismissively. “Now, within each squad are representatives from four subclasses. The highest ranking are warriors–usually vampire nobility but there have been rare exceptions. Beneath us are the support structure. Healers, alchemists, apothecaries. Those are self-explanatory. I assume you know what healers are.”

When he looked at me as if I might be an idiot, I rolled my eyes.

“Great. Next are strategists. Very important. They’re selected for their logic and foresight. They can visualize battles, help plan attacks, that kind of thing. The last class are scouts. They’re also supposed to be able to use magic, but not all of them are mages. True arcanists are harder and harder to find.”

“And where do I fit in?”

He snorted. “You don’t. You’re a fifth class. One that’s extinct.” He eyed me up and down. “Or at least, they were until today.”

“I don’t understand any of this. There are no dragons to ride so why the hell do I have to go to your stupid school?” I demanded.

“You’d have to take that up with my uncle, but it’s what he wants. You’re to join Regan and I.”

He glared at me from gray eyes that were suddenly stormy. “You’re the last person who belongs at this school as far as I’m concerned. You haven’t even earned your way here like some of the other blightborn mortals. But what Viktor Drakharrow wants, he always gets. So I wouldn’t suggest challenging him. Not unless you want to be drained faster than you can snap out a smart-mouthed comment.”

He looked at me and shook his head contemptuously. “I don’t know what kind of a curriculum they’ll come up with for you exactly, but if I had to guess, I’d say you’ll learn some of everything. Everything but healing, I suppose. Riders used to be second only to warriors. But that was when they had dragons.” He shrugged. “So, you’re right. You’re pretty useless. I don’t suppose you can fight?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of fight.” I clenched my hands into fists, itching to let one fly.

He laughed in derision. “Sure. But do you have any skills?”

I said nothing, deciding that was just one of those things he’d have to find out for himself.

He shrugged. “Tomorrow I’ll have Regan show you around. She’ll show you the ropes.”

I nearly choked. “Regan? The girl in the purple dress who looked like she wanted to stab my eyes out?”

He chuckled. “She’ll do what I tell her. Don’t worry, you’ll see. She wants to please my uncle. You need each other. You’ll be best friends in no time.”

“I highly doubt that,” I muttered.

But maybe I could hope. It wouldn’t be so bad to have a friend in this horrid place.

Though I sincerely doubted the girl who thought I’d just stolen her mate from her–or at least planned to make her share him–was about to turn into my bosom buddy.

It seemed as if talking time was over.

Blake had resumed his long strides down the stone corridor. I followed him, refusing to ask that he slow down, forcing myself to keep up with his ridiculous pace.

He hurried me through the halls with furtive glances around the corners, as if he were worried someone might see us together.

From time to time, someone would shuffle past us–a fellow student with their arms full of books or a teacher holding a stack of parchment. If they dared to make eye contact, Blake would glare at them until they hurried on their way as fast as they could.

As our hasty tour continued, I caught a glimpse of the refectory. A huge stone hall with rows of wooden tables and benches.

“You’ll eat there,” Blake said briefly, before forcing us down another hall.

“What about you?” It was a jest, but to my surprise he paused.

“I can eat. We don’t just drink blood, you know.”

“I don’t know,” I pointed out. “I don’t know anything about you monsters.”