“Theo?” I guessed.

But Vaughn shook his head. “I don’t know.”

My head was swirling. Just because Blake hadn’t personally attacked Vaughn didn’t mean he hadn’t been responsible somehow. He could have commanded Coregon to do it.

But Vaughn’s words had cast doubt on everything I thought I knew.

The halls were unsettlingly silent now that everyone had made their way to the arena. Our footsteps echoed as we hurried along, Vaughn leading me deeper into the school than I had ever ventured before. The stones along the walls began to darken.

As we rounded a corner, my breath caught in my throat. A wide trio of open arches led into the arena. The space was vast and open to the sky. Carved from huge stone blocks of deepest red, the arena had tiered seats that encircled the floor below.

Most of the seats were already full.

As we stepped through the arches, someone stepped towards me and grabbed my arm.

“Where the hell have you been?” Professor Rodriguez snapped angrily. He shook his head. “On second thought, never mind that now. You’re late. Vaughn, go find a seat. Miss Pendragon, come with me. Everyone has been waiting for you.”

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 24 - BLAKE

I watched Rodriguez usher Pendragon down the tiers of stone to her seat as I stood down below in the middle of the arena floor.

The floor featured moving stone platforms that could rise into the air during combat, adding another layer of complexity to a fight as they rotated and shifted unpredictably. But today the platforms were still and silent. I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping my balance.

The most prestigious students from my house sat together in the first row, and there at the end were the two spots saved for my consorts: Regan Pansera and Medra Pendragon.

It was supposed to be a place of honor. Pendragon sure didn’t look honored.

Regan had taken her seat a long time ago. She sat there now, the epitome of poise and control, her back perfectly straight, her silver-blonde hair arranged meticulously. She stiffened slightly as Pendragon sat down beside her and leaned away, as if touching the blightborn girl might sully her.

Regan was the perfect highblood girl. Popular and beautiful. Bred for power.

She stared ahead, indifferent, bored, waiting for this ritual to end. I knew she had no doubt I’d become House Leader today. But the confidence she had in me was meaningless.

Then there was Pendragon. Looking as if she’d love nothing better than to kill us all with her eyes. She was slumped slightly in her seat, obviously wishing she were anywhere but here. Her mass of fiery curls had grown only wilder thanks to our spat. Wisps and tendrils had escaped the leather tie she used to hold her hair back.

The freckles along her cheeks stood out even more when she was angry. And she was angry now. Angry and uncomfortable, glaring across the arena at me with a stubborn, reckless glint in her eyes.

My chest tightened. She’d attacked me with murder in her heart. And yet, idiot that I was, it was her I couldn’t take my eyes off.

She was everything Regan wasn’t. Unrefined, unpredictable. Burning with a fire I couldn’t help but admire. Even though she clearly despised me.

Regan wanted me for what I represented, not who I was.

Power. Prestige. Status. Control. Everything that came with being a Drakharrow. Those were the things Regan lived for.

Oh, there was no denying she was beautiful. In the same way that ice was beautiful.

Regan would be an obedient consort. A perfect mother. Always loyal. She had been bred for this role and she played it well. From childhood, we’d been told we would someday be partners.

Yet I hated her. Hated her for everything she’d let herself become. Even though she’d done nothing less than exactly what she was told.

Whereas Pendragon didn’t want me at all. She was willful, obstinate, and probably going to get herself killed one of these days.

Yet when I lay in my bed at night, after having rejected one of Regan’s pathetic advances for the hundredth time, Pendragon’s face was the one I couldn’t get out of my mind.

It was a sick irony. The more she fought against me, the more this fucked up attraction to her grew.

Fighting her in the training yard just now had been almost as good as sex. It was probably the closest we’d ever get, if she had her way.

I knew I’d be replaying the way her body had moved as we fought in my head that night, over and over again. When I’d pinned her down, my body pressing against hers, her breath hot on my skin–I’d known in that moment it would be the closest I’d ever get to having her. The way she’d writhed beneath me, the soft curves of her body straining against my weight, her lips slightly parted as she gasped for breath... Fuck. It had almost undone me.

I’d stayed there like that as long as I’d dared, hovering over her, unable to take my eyes off the soft, tempting curve of her lips. The impulse had been so strong to just lean down and kiss her, right there in front of everyone.

She would have slapped me. Probably would have hated me even more.

But I couldn’t help wondering if it would have been worth the humiliation.

Did she know how careful I’d been not to make her bleed? Not to break her perfect, soft, white skin no matter how much she goaded me?

I’d already been so fucking aroused that I knew if I’d scented even a drop of blood on her while we’d fought, I wouldn’t have been able to restrain myself.

I groaned a little, remembering the sweetness of her body, the swell of her breasts. It had taken all I had not to reach a hand down and cup one of them through her tunic.

I knew that night I’d be jerking off as I imagined unfastening her trousers and sliding into the warm, wet place between her thighs.

Except, in my fantasies, Pendragon was always a willing participant. She’d moan her need for me, arching her hips impatiently. She’d tug my pants off, and cradle my cock, running her fingers down the hard length of it.

In my dreams, she wanted me just as much as I wanted her.

Fat chance of that ever happening in real life.

Belatedly, I realized Headmaster Kim had stood up and was speaking.

I knew I’d be expected to pay him a visit later. Probably with Pendragon. Did she even realize the serious crime she’d committed by fighting me like that?

Consorts had been banished or even beheaded for less.

One did not attack one’s archon. Ever.

It was an unspoken rule, perhaps even an unwritten one. If it was unwritten, if it wasn’t actually on the books, then perhaps we could use that to Pendragon’s advantage. I could talk to Rodriguez after this was all over, see if he could point that out to Kim.

I felt an uncomfortable sensation, like an itch on my conscience.

What the fuck was wrong with me that I was thinking of ways to keep Pendragon from being kicked out of Bloodwing or worse? Instead of just letting it happen.

Because, a secret nagging voice in my head said, I knew exactly what would happen to her if she was expelled.

She wouldn’t be free. My uncle would never let her go.

No, Pendragon was chained for life. If not to me, then...

Kim’s chill voice broke through my thoughts. “For millennia, the leadership of our Houses has been determined by strength, cunning, and the will to dominate. Only the powerful may rule. Only the worthy may survive. ‘Sanguis et Flamma Floreant’ is our motto. Only blood and flame may flourish in these halls. From blood comes unity. From blood comes strength. From blood, legacy. From blood, power.”

I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest, trying not to look too bored. It was basically the same tedious speech he’d given at every House Leadership ceremony.