Page 119 of On Wings of Blood

He started down the hallway again, half-running, and I chased after him.

“It could have been even worse,” he said, tossing the words over his shoulder as he moved quickly down the next corridor. We were entering an area of the school I’d never been in before. “Someone found me on the beach. I was bleeding. I guess I’d passed out. They carried me back to the school. Left me outside the First Year infirmary. The healer found me right away. She said someone had been banging on the door.”

“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 hurriedalong, 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.”

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. Hermass 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 washerI 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.

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