At least, that was what I had always thought happened.

Like most of the younger highbloods, we’d only learned about the rite through whispers and rumors. Through overheard bits of information pillaged from our parents and elders.

Now, as I looked down at the blightborn girl slumped over the throne, I knew with certainty that she was dead.

Around the throne, the masked highbloods were rising and pulling their robes back on.

The highblood man stood up, lifting the Bloodmaiden into his arms. Blood still trickled from the fang marks at her throat.

He’d done that. He’d killed her. He’d murdered her for the rite. Was it always this way? Or had something gone horribly wrong?

I was a highblood. I should have known better than to even ask that question.

Limp in his arms, the blightborn girl looked almost peaceful, her pale face framed by the gleam of blood trickling slowly from the puncture marks on her neck.

The crowd of masked highbloods parted as the man walked between them, towards the silver bowl in the center of the courtyard.

Without a word, he reached up with one hand and pulled down the long silver chains that dangled from the ceiling. The links clinked softly as he began to wrap them around the girl’s ankles. Other masked onlookers stepped forward. Together they helped him pull the chains taut, then hoist her body up into the air.

The blightborn girl’s body swung gently above the silver bowl.

A soft pattering sound broke the silence as blood from her throat began to drip into the bowl below.

I stood perfectly still beside Pendragon, my hand still frozen at her waist, staring down at the silver bowl as the blood pooled.

Slowly, the basin began to glow with light.

The energy radiating from it was palpable. Humming through the courtyard like a low and steady pulse.

I realized what must be happening. The blood was powering some sort of enchantment. A powerful one.

Then it clicked into place.

The girl was fuel.

The glow around the bowl grew stronger, illuminating the faces of the masked highbloods standing around it.

My jaw tightened as I understood. The coercive magic that kept the blightborn compliant, relatively docile. This was how it was achieved.

There was a sickening twist in my gut as I glanced down at Pendragon. She was frozen, her face pale, her expression a mix of shock and horror.

My hand tightened instinctively on her waist and she jerked her head up.

I saw it then. The look of complete betrayal.

She thought I knew. She thought I’d purposely made her stay to watch...this. A girl’s life force being drained away to fuel a magic that controlled thousands of innocent lives.

I nearly laughed. Then I caught myself. There was nothing funny about the look in her eyes.

She yanked out of my grasp and sprinted away from me.

I glanced down at the courtyard below before following, praying no one would spot us. If I’d thought letting her stay was risky before, now I knew things would turn deadly in a heartbeat if we were caught.

She was moving fast, heading back to the panel that led to the secret staircase, but my vampire speed made it easy to catch up.

I closed the gap between us, stepping in front of her.

Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her a little.

“Pendragon, stop,” I hissed, my grip tightening as she tried to pull away.

Her eyes were wild with anger.

“Just calm down.” The words came out rougher than I’d intended.

“Calm down? After what I just saw?” She yanked herself free again, stepping back as if my touch burned her. “How dare you tell me to calm down after you stood there and let me watch that... that horror.”

“I didn’t know,” I blurted out. “I didn't know she was going to die. You have to believe me.”

“Oh, you knew.” Her voice was trembling with rage. “You knew exactly what was going to happen. I may have been an intruder but you were an invited guest. You were supposed to be down there, with them, weren’t you?”

I struggled to keep my composure. “Both things can be true. I’m telling you the truth.”

She gave a bitter laugh. But I saw there were tears in her eyes. “You knew she’d be sacrificed. You had to have known. You know who I believe didn’t know?” She paused. “Regan.”

I stared at her. “You think Regan would have actually cared? You think she would have stopped them?”

She shook her head slowly. “No. I think you highbloods all keep secrets from one another. But you–a Drakharrow–you’re in on the worst secrets of all. You’re sick, Blake. You’re a monster."

“I didn’t know,” I tried to say again.

“Stop lying,” she shouted.

Her voice was too loud.

I jerked into action before I could stop myself, darting forward to grab her. In an instant I had her tossed over my shoulder.

In another second, the panel had opened and shut. We were in the stairwell. I flew down the stairs with her struggling in my arms, beating at my back with her fists.

Only when we were far enough inside the passage did I finally put her down. Then I reached into a recess in the wall and pulled out the lamp I had hidden there.

As I lit it, she slapped me full across the face.

I grimaced but made no move to retaliate.

I watched as the tears fell from her eyes.

“You knew,” she said quietly. “The bowl. The chains. What else would they have been for?”

My heart thundered in my chest. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. The bowl is always there. Not the chains. I knew they’d take some of her blood. But she was supposed to be willing.”

“Oh, she was willing all right.” Pendragon’s voice dripped with irony. “So willing she fell for your highblood bullshit, hook, line and sinker. That’s the only part of it that...” She trailed off, shaking her head.

I felt a drop of water hit my face. One of her tears.

“She didn’t suffer,” I said softly. “If that’s what you meant. I don’t think she even knew it was happening.”

She sniffled. “It doesn’t make it any better.”

“I know.”

“What was it for? What the hell was it for? Why did they kill her?” She stepped closer, her face twisted with disdain. “Tell me the truth for once in your life.”

My throat tightened as I struggled with what to share. The weight of the lie I was about to tell pressing down on me. But how could I possibly tell her the truth?

I hesitated, my voice caught in my throat.

“Tell me!” Pendragon’s voice cracked, her fury showing through. She shoved me hard in the chest, pushing me backwards. “What was all that blood for?”

My jaw clenched. “Magic. Some sort of a spell.”

“For what? What were they doing?” she persisted.

I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. “I don’t know. They didn’t tell me. They didn’t even tell me she was going to die. I guess tonight was supposed to be my... initiation. If I’d shown up.”

Pendragon covered her mouth. “Kage.”

Even now, I felt rage rising at the sound of his name on her lips. “What about him?”

“He’s a house leader, too. Was he there?” she demanded. “Wearing one of those masks?”

I shook my head wearily. “I have no idea. He might have been. But it wasn’t mandatory to attend. It’s supposed to be a privilege. They knew we had the ball tonight. Maybe Kage stayed at Bloodwing.” I wondered if Catherine Mortis or Lysander Oprhos had been in the Sanctum.

“A privilege,” she said with sarcasm. “Right. What a wonderful fucking privilege. As if you aren’t all privileged enough. So what privilege was the spell for this time? What sick tradition? You already think you own us. You sacrifice blightborns as if we’re worthless. You already control this entire cursed kingdom...”

Her eyes widened, horror dawning in them.

I stayed silent.

“Oh, my gods,” she breathed, taking a step back as if I’d struck her. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? The spell. It’s like thrallweave. It’s to control the blightborn in the city. To keep them compliant.”