The crowd laughed. At me. Not with me as they had done with the perfect Miss Pansera.

“Do they not have dragons where you come from, Miss Pendragon?” Lord Drakharrow inquired. “Your name would suggest they do. What land is this you hail from? I would very much like to visit it one day.”

I shook my head. “It’s a name, nothing more. I cannot even recall the name of my land,” I lied. “Perhaps there were dragons there once, long ago, but no one alive has ever seen them. Not where I come from. It’s just a name.”

It was, in fact, the name of kings and queens. The Pendragons were an ancient line. And thanks to my mother’s poor choice of men, I was a part of it through my father’s side.

Poor choice? Or careful plotting?

The voice in my head was back again.

Get out, I hissed at her. You have no right to be here.

A tinkling laugh. You have no idea how wrong you are.

But she was silent after that.

“I see.” A thin smile. Lord Drakharrow thought I was lying through my teeth. “Well, this land did have dragons, Medra Pendragon. They were not simply names. They existed. And they had riders.”

“And you think... what? That I’m one of them?” I stared up at him in disbelief. “You’ve already established there are no dragons anymore, right? So why does it matter?” I glanced at Regan Pansera, as if expecting commiseration–after all, we agreed about this, didn’t we? But her eyes remained dagger-like.

“It was an ancient lineage,” Lord Drakharrow was musing. “And your appearance, here, today could be seen as almost prophetic...”

“If I may, Lord Drakharrow.” A woman’s voice. Soft but regal. She stood on the other side of the platform, draped in red silk. She looked older than most of the nobles around her–though not as old as Lord Drakharrow. “As you know, House Avari prided itself on our dragon riders. This girl’s appearance might be nothing. Or...” She hesitated, stealing a quick glance down at me. I got the impression this was a woman of great authority and power–but not as much power as Lord Drakharrow wielded. I sensed she would defer to him.

“Yes, Lady Avari?” Lord Drakharrow pressed. “Or?”

The older silver haired woman bit her lip. “Or it might be an omen. A sign from the Bloodmaiden herself.”

A stir went through the hall.

A heavyset man in silver brocade stepped forward, his steel armored boots clanking against the platform. “House Mortis concurs with House Avari. The girl’s arrival should not be underestimated. She is significant. She must not be permitted to leave.”

“Interesting,” Lord Drakharrow mused. “And the options as you see them, Lord Mortis, are?”

Lord Mortis glared down at me, his face stern. “Test her blood. Either offer her to the goddess should her blood be worthy or destroy her as if she never were. Or...”

Lord Drakharrow’s eyebrows rose again. “Or? Is there yet a third option? Fascinating.”

“Or mate with her,” Lord Mortis growled. I flinched. “Preserve the rider's bloodline now that it has been found. The riders were all lost. Her blood seems...” He hesitated. I suspected he did not wish to use the word “pure” to describe me. “Strong,” he settled on. “Her features are distinct. Prominent. That bodes well.”

He stepped back amongst the other nobles on the dais.

Evidently those standing up on the platform were the ultimate elite. I saw nods of agreement from some of the lords and ladies around him. But to what part of what he’d just said? The part about killing me? Or offering my blood to some goddess?

Or perhaps worst of all–mating with me. Who was to do the honor? Lord Drakharrow?

A shudder went through me. No. Decidedly no.

I started eyeing the tall arched glass windows that lined the walls of the hall. How fast could I get to one? Would they be quick enough to stop me? If I did manage to dive through one would I fall onto a cobblestone walkway? Or sharp rocks along the cliffside? Or the turbulent waves below?

Best case scenario, I decided, I’d be cut and bleeding from the broken window and forced to swim out to sea as Blake’s archers shot at me.

“A mating,” Lord Drakharrow murmured. He raised a hand to his chin, stroking his silver beard. “Binding her to us. Continuing the lineage. Strengthening it. I cannot deny, it is an interesting idea.”

He looked down at where I stood. “Of course, by rights only one man should be bound to her.”

A stir went through the audience.

I looked around at the nobles, my face flushing hot with anger. “I wouldn’t mind having a say in all of this, Lord Drakharrow.”

“Oh? But you do not get a say, Medra Pendragon. Perhaps it has not been clear to you yet, but People of the Pure Blood stand here deciding your fate and your fate has come very close to death today.”

I let out a hiss between my teeth. “But it won’t be death, will it?”

He smiled, his fangs dropping, lethal and white. I flinched. “No?”

I shook my head, purposely making my hair fly out around my head in a curly cloud. I heard gasps as the mane of red fluttered in the air, then settled against my shoulders.

This was about my survival now. And to my surprise, I found I did wish to survive. I was not dead. I had not died. I rather wanted to keep it that way. At least, for now.

“No,” I said emphatically. “I’m too valuable to be killed. You’ve all decided that already. As Lady Avari already mentioned, I could be an omen.” What was it he’d already said? That I had a dragon rider’s physique. “Look at me. I’m a Pendragon. The only Pendragon. For all you know, the power lies in my blood. Maybe I can bring back the dragons.”

A wave of gasps went up around me.

Had I really just said that?

Mentally, I shrugged. Who cared? I wasn’t actually going to do it. I knew that, but they didn’t need to. Perhaps I’d started off on the wrong foot. I should have been bluffing all along. Evidently the only thing these people recognized and respected was power as brutal as their own.

I was buying myself time. Time to get in amongst these coldblooded, fanged monsters. Time to find a weapon and cut some pureblood vampire throats, then escape with not just my life but perhaps a little bit more. Maybe some coin to get me out of this cursed kingdom. Maybe a map. Maybe a ship.

“Getting a memory or two back, are we now?” Lord Drakharrow’s smile was slit-like, predatory.

“Maybe,” I said blasély. “Who knows what I’ll remember given enough time? It could be something useful.”

“Perhaps the goddess sent her. Perhaps she’s a gift from the Bloodmaiden,” a woman near me whispered to her neighbor excitedly.

Lord Drakharrow’s eyes shot towards her and the woman squeaked, then fell silent.

But it was too late. I smiled triumphantly. He couldn’t kill me now. Not now that hope was spreading.

“Very well, Medra Pendragon,” Lord Drakharrow said slowly. “Live you shall. But in bondage to the Pure, as are all blightborn. Such is your debt. Your value lives in your blood and your blood must be shared.”

I took a step backward, my face falling, and tried to wrench my hand away from Blake’s grasp. But the bastard held tight, jerking me back beside him with a savage twist.

Lord Drakharrow smiled at us. “You see? Already you are bound to my nephew. He found you. He saved you. You owe him a debt of life. A debt that can never be repaid.”

“He stole me! He chained me, dragged me here,” I protested heatedly. “I owe him nothing. What I wish for is to be free.”

“Freedom within the Thralldom is of the purest sort,” Lord Drakharrow assured me. I felt a prickle of unease go down my spine. “Bondage is freedom. The sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be.”

He rose to his feet suddenly. “Today your life changes. Medra Pendragon, today you take up your place in the Thralldom. Today I lift you up from the murk and mire. I name you Dragon Rider of Sangratha. Let the one who found you be your guide in this new world.”