We filed through the archways in two lines. Most of the blightborn students around me were silent and walked with their heads down, as if in reverence. I was not about to imitate them. I wasn’t going to bow my head in this place.

The highblood students were less disciplined. They whispered in hushed tones, their voices carrying through the quiet.

A few professors made their way through the crowd, shushing them. I watched as Professor Rodriguez marched up to where Regan stood whispering and laughing with Quinn and Gretchen.

“Shut up.” Rodriguez’s cold voice cut through the night air.

Regan looked so shocked that I had to stop myself from laughing.

“Don't make me have to tell you girls to be quiet a second time or you'll all have detentions with me, winter break or not.”

Regan scowled but fell silent as Rodriguez stomped away.

We had neared the archway. Florence and Naveen walked through the blightborn doorway first. I followed.

Inside, the interior of the temple atrium was vast and lit only with flickering candles. Beyond the atrium I could see the nave and part of the inner sanctuary, where the blood offering would take place. Rows of white stone benches were divided by two broad aisles. On the far end stood an altar, a solid white slab of marble over which towered a statue of the Bloodmaiden, her hands in the cupped position.

I watched as, one by one, blightborn students approached the altar. Each was handed a small ceremonial dagger by a temple votary. With a quick slice across the palm, they let a few drops of their blood fall into a silver basin at the altar’s base.

Afterwards they knelt in prayer, as if paying homage to the Bloodmaiden’s sacrifice. Ironic, as I didn’t see how any of them had actually benefited from it.

The highblood students did not offer blood. Instead, they approached the altar from a different aisle, moving towards it with a practiced formality. They bowed their heads in silent prayer as they neared the altar, kneeling down and murmuring words of devotion before taking a small red tablet from a silver tray offered by one of the votaries, each of whom wore flowing white robes cinched at the waist with red braid. Florence had already told me the tablets were each stained with a single drop of blightborn blood and represented the Bloodmaiden’s sacrifice.

I watched in revulsion as each highblood placed a tablet in their mouth, then swallowed it.

As I stood in line, waiting my turn, I felt like even more of an outsider than usual, here in this ancient place of vampire rites and mysteries. I pulled my cloak a little tighter around me. Did I really have to go through with this barbaric ceremony and offer up blood to a goddess I had absolutely no intention of ever worshiping?

After my experiences in Aercanum, I’d had enough of so-called gods and goddesses for one lifetime.

As I stepped forward in the line, my hood slipped from my head. I shook my curls out, letting my hair free now that we were out of the blustering wind. As I did, my gaze was pulled to Blake. He had approached one of the votaries. All of them were women. I wondered if male highbloods were permitted to serve in the Sanctum.

Blake was pointing to me. I felt a prickle of unease as the votary's expression changed instantly, her eyes widening as she took in my hair. She clutched her robes in her hands and then hurriedly crossed over to where Professor Sankara was standing on the other side of the foyer. The highblood teacher had been looking bored. Now he snapped to attention as the votary whispered something urgently into his ear. His silver brows knitted together as his dark eyes slid towards me.

Blake had moved to join Sankara and the votary. Now the three of them conferred in hushed voices, with unmistakable glances in my direction.

I scowled. What now? Would I have to give more than the usual amount of blood? I had a bad feeling it would be something like that.

My pulse quickened as Blake broke away from the group and came towards me.

“Pendragon,” he barked, breaking the silence. Every student around me snapped their heads in our direction. “Get out of the line.”

I blinked. “Why?”

“You don’t need to make an offering,” Blake said, his voice brusque. “You’re exempt. Like the highbloods.”

I frowned. Little did he know that was the worst possible thing he could have said to get me to do what he wanted. “But I thought...”

“Don’t think,” he snapped, gray eyes narrowing. “Get out of the line, Pendragon. Now. That’s an order.”

My heart raced as my natural defiance threatened to bubble up. Then I realized how stupid I was being. Of course, I didn't actually want to have to make an offering.

“Fine,” I muttered, stepping out of the line, with a shrug in Florence and Naveen’s direction. “What now?”

“Now you wait.” Blake smiled smugly. “Unless you’d prefer to enter the nave and pray quietly.”

“No, thank you,” I said quickly, managing to bite my tongue and not share what I really thought about the whole revolting proceedings.

I walked away from him to stand in a quiet recess flanked by two tall white marble pillars. As I leaned against the wall, I thought about Blake’s dismissive command. Kage was right. Blake didn’t respect me. Best scenario, we were trapped with one another. Worst case, he wanted to use me. Either way, I was determined to break free. I might be stuck in this world, but that didn’t mean I had to be tied to him.

I froze as two familiar voices drifted towards me.

Regan and Quinn. The two girls must have finished their prayers at the altar and now were walking around the outer perimeter of the foyer, out of the professors’ earshot. If I stayed where I was, they wouldn’t be able to see me.

I quickly found myself caught up in their whispered conversation.

“Another boring offering night,” Quinn griped. “I can’t believe we have to wait while all of these cattle are bled.” I scowled, knowing she meant the blightborn. “My knees hurt from kneeling on that stone step. Do you think we prayed long enough?”

“We looked like perfectly pious highblood bitches,” Regan answered.

They both snickered.

“Besides,” Regan continued. “I’d have thought you’d be used to going down on your knees by now. I’ve heard it’s all you do for Edward Ashveil.”

“Don’t you dare judge me, bitch. It fucking worked, didn’t it?” Quinn said with a laugh. “He begged his father and I’ve been approved as one of his consorts. I’ll be in the Games with you this year. Making it nice and official.”

Oh, great. Quinn was going to be part of the Consort Games. I doubted that boded well for me.

“Are you going to the Adoration Rite this year?” Quinn asked Regan.

“I’m not invited. Not until I’m officially Blake’s consort,” Regan muttered. Interesting. So it wasn’t completely official yet. What Kage had claimed might be the truth. “I can’t believe it. It’s not like I’m some random blightborn. They know I’m with Blake. We’ve been betrothed for years. I’m entitled to attend.”

I suppressed a snort of laughter. She was entitled all right.

Quinn made a sympathetic noise.

“It's not fair,” Regan went on. I could practically picture her pouting. “Blake can go if he wants to. He’s Lord Drakharrow’s nephew and a House Leader. He can basically do whatever he pleases. But he says he can’t bring me with him.”

I wondered if Blake actually could but just didn’t want to.

“My father is going,” Quinn said. “He’s in Lord Drakharrow’s inner circle. He says this year will be very exclusive. Lord Drakharrow has something special planned.”

“Well, exclusive or not,” Regan replied testily. “By next year I’ll be a full consort if all goes well at the Games. They won’t be able to keep me out.”

“I wonder who they’ve found to play the Bloodmaiden for the Rite this year,” Quinn mused. “She’s always lowborn trash, but some years I’ve heard she can be quite pretty. I’ve heard girls fight for the part. It’s a great honor for a blightborn girl.”