If worse came to worse, maybe I could approach Blake and demand he help out somehow.

Which made me remember why he’d told me about Aenia in the first place. He’d claimed he was giving me leverage. Something to use against him.

I yanked off my clothes and tossed them into the hamper, then pulled on a robe and lay down on my bed.

Leverage. What did Blake really expect me to do with knowledge that might get him killed?

I thought of how I might use it. I could go to someone like Headmaster Kim, I supposed, and reveal what Blake had done. If Blake was telling the truth, then he’d be pulled up before some sort of highblood tribunal and would face the full wrath of Sangratha’s highblood laws. He could be executed. I assumed Aenia would fare no better.

Not so long ago, the idea of Blake being horribly tortured and killed would have brought a smile of joy to my face. I hated him then. Hated him for how he’d treated me, for his cold superiority, for the betrothal I’d never asked for.

But now things were different. Without meaning to, I’d come to know him better. I couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d done what he’d done to try to save Aenia.

When I looked at him, I didn’t see the same person he’d been at the start of the year.

I wondered what he saw when he looked at me.

I lay back on my pillow, staring up at the star-covered ceiling.

I could get rid of him once and for all. The question was could I really live with that on my conscience? And would I be better off without him?

There was no way Lord Drakharrow was going to let me go. If Blake was out of the picture, who would they give me to next? Marcus Drakharrow? I shuddered.

Pushing myself up on my elbows, I looked over at the item on my nightstand. Coregon’s dagger with Orcades’ soul trapped inside. If Aenia was a symbol of Blake’s failure, the dagger was equally one of mine.

Most days, I brought the blade with me. Even tucked into my boot, Orcades could take in most of the things around me.

Each night before sleep claimed me, I’d gotten into the routine of reaching for it and speaking with her.

I sat up and pulled it into my hands.

Mother?

At first there was only silence.

Then, Medra? Orcades’ voice had changed over the last few weeks and this worried me. Her tone was softer. Each time she sounded a little more distant. As if she were speaking from a place further and further away. There was a dreamy quality to her words. A detachment that hadn’t been there before.

Were you asleep? I asked cautiously. Did I...wake you?

You know I don’t sleep anymore, she said with a sigh. But I... I was dreaming.

How could one dream without sleeping? But I didn’t point out the contradiction.

I was dreaming of the sky. I was flying over the sea.

You’re not in the sea or the sky, I reminded her, a little sternly. You’re here, with me. Remember?

She gave an almost wistful sigh. The blade. My prison. How could I forget?

I felt a stab of guilt. I’ll take you with me tomorrow, I promised. I shouldn’t have left you here all day without me.

My heart sped up as I suddenly wondered something. Was my mother on the same track as Aenia? A path leading to madness? Was she losing herself the longer she stayed in the dagger, confined and chained? I couldn’t imagine how horrible it must be.

Is being in the dagger worse than being stuck inside of me? I asked.

Worse, came the answer almost immediately. But it’s not so bad. I felt a warmth from the blade, as if it were pulsing slightly. I squeezed the hilt in my palm, wishing I was actually clasping the hand of a flesh and blood woman and not a piece of metal. You didn’t mean to, Medra. It’s not so bad, she said again.

Having her try to excuse my accident was almost worse somehow. It didn’t ease the guilt I felt.

I wondered if Professor Rodriguez would help me if I told him the truth. I looked over at the books about dragons he’d given me. I’d been going through them. I still wasn’t sure exactly what I was supposed to be looking for.

I slid the dagger under my pillow, my hand still wrapped around the hilt. It was the only comfort I had to offer.

Goodnight, Mother, I whispered.

I closed my eyes, sleep beginning to pull me under.

But my slumber didn’t last long.

A rough hand clamped over my mouth, yanking me awake. Filled with panic, my eyes shot open. But before I could scream or take anything in, a soft cloth was pressed against my face. A sweet, sickly smell filled my nostrils. I thrashed about but my limbs were suddenly heavy and sluggish.

Everything went black before I could even begin to fight back.

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CHAPTER 50 - BLAKE

I sat in the stone bleachers of the arena, my body tense, eyes locked on the massive projection veil that hovered over the pit.

Beside me, Theo was fidgeting restlessly.

I resisted the urge to join him.

Here we were, safe in the stands. While somewhere out there, the woman tethered to me by blood and by fate would soon be walking headfirst into unknown dangers.

I hadn’t been able to stop replaying our meeting from two nights ago in my head. The image of her standing in front of me, tossing back the vial of my blood. Maybe it was weak of me, but part of me was regretting not telling her the whole truth.

But there was no point in thinking about it now.

The Consort Games were about to begin. I’d done what I could for her. Now I just had to hope it would be enough.

The Games were not supposed to be impossible to win. For most highblood consorts, they were a test of strategy, of the consorts’ ability to work together and to survive. Nothing more.

But Pendragon was going into them with a target painted on her back.

My jaw clenched, my gaze going back to the enormous semi-translucent veil projected overhead where the area’s enchantment would soon begin to reveal the consorts’ journeys.

Other teams would be working together, pooling their strengths. Pendragon would have to rely on her instincts–and on my blood coursing through her veins.

“Regan’s been sharpening her knives for weeks now,” Theo muttered beside me. “Think she has a chance?”

I knew he didn’t mean Regan. He hated the woman. We both knew she was about to openly defy me. Despite the humiliation that would bring, on the one hand, Regan’s defiance would play into exactly what I wanted.

On the other hand, Pendragon had a lot to lose.

I clenched my hands into fists on my knees.

The consorts would have been taken from their beds in the dead of night, drugged, and brought to a special dormitory reserved for the sole purpose of the games, located on a small island not far from Bloodwing.

Right about now, they’d be waking up. Professor Wispwood would be casting an enchantment over each one. The spell would allow everyone in the arena to see what the consorts experienced, permitting us to become spectators.

The island wasn’t designed to kill. But accidents always happened. Every year, a few consorts died. Either from sheer stupidity or bad luck.

I hadn’t answered Theo’s question. I didn’t want to admit just how worried I was. But I suspected he could sense it.

Around us, the usual crowd of highbloods and blightborn were taking their seats. I saw a number of faculty members sharing a row together. There was Rodriguez, the bastard, looking completely unconcerned as he sat down next to Professor Sankara. I knew he wanted Pendragon to get through this as badly as I did, and yet when I’d practically begged him to help me give her some kind of an advantage he’d claimed he’d already done what he could.