Page 220 of On Wings of Blood

“Good. Then let’s get going,” I snapped, losing patience with her. “Everyone was already there. Except you and Quinn. We’re going to be the last.”

I started striding back through the jungle, praying she’d follow and I wouldn’t have to do what I’d threatened and actually carry her. I felt powerful enough to manage it, but she’d severely slow me down.

Within a minute, I heard the snap of twigs and rustle of grass as she trailed after me.

“What exactly do you need me for?” she asked after a few minutes had passed. “What’s the next challenge?”

“All I know is they need some of each of our blood. We have to enter a domed building together. No one seems to know what’s inside.” Well, Visha might have had a pretty good idea. Though she hadn’t wanted to tell me.

“Did Visha tell you that?” Regan guessed. “That traitorous bitch. How dare she take Blake’s side.”

“Yes, you seem to have a lot of traitors in your life,” I quipped. “Once we’re out of here, you might want to do some soul-searching about why that is.”

“I think I’d rather drink a few thralls and fix my broken nails instead, thanks.” She sighed and I didn’t have to turn my head to know she was looking at her hands. “Fuck. They’ll never be the same.”

I held back the comments that were on the tip of my tongue and instead continued leading the way back to the dome.

CHAPTER 54 - MEDRA

We were the last ones.

The outskirts of the dome were empty as we approached.

The pair of heavy stone doors leading the way inside sat slightly ajar.

In front of them was a stone pillar topped with a small offering bowl and a knife. Despite the many pairs of consorts who had come before us, the bowl was empty and the knife was clean.

Another highblood mystery. I wondered if Professor Wispwood had been here, working her magic.

“Well, this is it,” I muttered, glancing at Regan. “You want to go first or should I do the honors?”

Regan lifted her chin. “I always go first, Pendragon.” She stepped forward and lifted up the ritual knife. With a swift motion, she cut a small mark in her palm and let a few drops of blood dribble into the bowl.

The stone doors groaned, cracking open further, but not fully. We were only halfway there.

“Your turn,” Regan said, holding the blade out to me.

Instinctively I reached for it.

The second my fingers brushed the handle, Regan yanked the blade forward, slicing it across my forearm instead of my palm. I gasped as blood poured from the wound into the offering bowl.

“What the hell?” I hissed, clutching my arm as crimson continued to drip onto the ground. Yet I could already feel Blake’s blood working inside me, healing me. The tear in my flesh was starting to close.

Regan smiled darkly. “Whoops. Sorry. My hand must have slipped.”

I glared at her as the doors opened with an ominous creak.

Regan laughed and strode into the building without a backwards glance.

Resisting the urge to pull her back by the hair, I took a deep breath and then quickly tore a piece of cloth from the edge of my shirt to wrap my arm, before following her.

Inside the dome, the atmosphere was cold.

Darkness swallowed us as soon as we entered. But as the doors slammed shut behind us, torches flared to life one by one around the walls.

I glanced at the wall to my left and then stepped up to it, grabbing the two swords that had been hanging there. Beside them hung two small shields, bucklers. I tossed one of each to Regan and she caught them.

“Try not to stab me in the back,” I muttered.

---