Page 76 of On Wings of Blood

“You’d think we’d only mate with members of House Drakharrow then,” I said coldly. “Like in the good old days.”

“When sister married brother? Do not think I have not given it consideration,” my uncle said, eying me with a frosty gaze. “Perhaps in the future, we will go back to those old ways, just as you suggest.”

“If we’re through here, I’d like to get back to Bloodwing,” I said. “That is, if you have no further demands of me.”

“Marcus can deal with Theo if you don’t, Blake,” Viktor said, not breaking his gaze. “But I don’t think you’d like his methods.”

Marcus cracked his knuckles. “A warning might be all our cousin needs. Let me do it my way.”

“No,” I said, clenching my jaw. “I’ll deal with it. I’ll take care of them both. Aenia and Theo. Leave them to me.”

Viktor nodded. “Good. You’re a good nephew, Blake. You both are. Together, this family will be the leaders this realm requires. Stay loyal by my side. Watch and learn.”

I nodded. “Always, uncle.”

I left the room, my heart beating fast.

Viktor was the most dangerous man I’d ever met, while Marcus was simply a menace.

Medra Pendragon had no idea what a close call she’d had. If she thought I was a monster, wait until she got to know my brother.

No, better that she never had the opportunity.

CHAPTER 15 - MEDRA

Two Weeks Later

Bloodwing Academy was a beautiful enigma.

The more I wandered through its maze-like halls, the more I felt as if I were falling in love with the old castle’s strange allure. Many of my fellow students were brutal, but there was somehow serenity here, too.

Passing through a corridor, I could glance out a tall, arched window and be greeted by the sight of the sea, wild and silver under an autumn sky.

On my way to class, I might pass through a courtyard filled with towering trees, like none I'd ever seen before in Aercanum, their branches twisted and ancient, creating canopies of gold and red against the sky. I’d already come to love walking beneath those trees, smelling the crisp air that carried the scent of damp earth, wood smoke, and fallen leaves, each step crunching pleasantly under my boots.

The castle’s nooks and crannies seemed endless. But it was this very quality I was coming to adore. Though the academy’s size was intimidating and I’d run across more than one fellow First Year looking lost and wild-eyed, I was starting to take an odd comfort in its labyrinthine nature. It was as if the building itself was inviting me to unravel its mysteries.

Two weeks had passed since my arrival in Sangratha. Two weeks since I’d become a student at Bloodwing.

I’d made some notes for my essay on dragons, but hadn’t really started writing yet. Still, the more I learned about the ancient beasts, the more grateful I was that there were none left alive.

Dragons had a reputation for brutality. Left unchecked, they would kill and feed as voraciously as a highblood, if not more so. Their appetites were vast. Keeping dragons had been an expense only the most elite houses could maintain.

The relationship between dragons and their riders seemed precarious to me. The dragons were possessive and passionate about their riders. But they could also turn on them in an instant. The death of a rider was as likely to happen at the hands of their own dragon than another. Dragons were prickly creatures, easily offended, selfish and demanding.

The relationship between riders, dragons, and highbloods was similarly fraught. Riders tethered the dragons to the vampires. They were the only thing that had kept the dragons in check. When a rider fell, their dragon’s loyalty to a highblood house could not be guaranteed until the dragon had agreed to bond with a new rider of the same house.

There were many stories of highblood houses having to fight and kill their own dragons that had gone berserk.

And still other stories of highblood houses that had fallen entirely because they’d been unable to overcome their own dragon’s might. Those were my favorite.

As for my sessions with Professor Rodriguez in thrallguard, it turned out that learning how to block thrallweave was as exhausting as a combat class. If not more so.

“You’ve been granted the right to train in something most vampires themselves never master,” Professor Rodriguez had explained at our first session. “Most highbloods assume the ability to block is innate. Some are capable of it, some are not.”

His dark hair fell across his brow as he leaned forward, his eyes sharp and focused. “The art of thrallguard has ancient roots. Some historians claim the skill originated with mortals in the first place and not vampires at all. That’s the most believable explanation to me.”

I shifted in my chair, feeling anticipation and trepidation. “What do you mean?”

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