Page 109 of On Wings of Blood

“The consorts are supposed to work together to succeed and survive,” Florence added. “Right now, you’re not officially a consort yet. Not until you pass the Games.”

For a moment I considered trying to fail the Games on purpose. I didn’t want to be an official consort. That sounded worse than whatever I already was.

Then I put my hands flat on the table. “Wait. What? Are you telling me I’m supposed to work with Regan? As in, these Games are actually dangerous?”

Florence bit her lip and nodded nervously. “I’m afraid so. Failure is not an option. Which is why I’d hoped that Regan had talked to you already.” She looked miserable. “She’s supposed to be your teammate.”

“She hasn’t said anything to me about it.” I thought for a moment. “So we’re supposed to work together for this? Regan and I? There’s no other choice?”

“We don’t know very much. In fact, that’s basically the only thing my mother would tell me when I asked her about it again recently,” Florence said. “But yes, you’re supposed to be a team. You’re supposed to prove you can cooperate. The point of a triad union is strength. The consorts are supposed to be able to cooperate to protect their archon.”

“Archon?” I raised my eyebrows. “You mean Blake?”

“Blake, yes. Or Catherine. She’s the archon of her triad. Or she will be. The archon can be male or female,” Florence explained.

“This is ridiculous,” I moaned, putting my chin on my hands. “There is no way I am ever going to...” I glanced at Naveen and saw he was blushing. “You know what I mean. I’m not goingthroughwith any of this so what’s the point?”

“Medra, I know you hate Blake. And Regan is no better. But this isn’t just about your preferences,” Florence said wretchedly. “I simply don’t see how you can defy Viktor Drakharrow, even if you wanted to. If it’s any consolation, while I know you don’t want to hear this, you’re in an extremely powerful and privileged arrangement in many ways. One that many blightborn would envy. But since I know it’s not about the status for you, keep in mind that this is about your very survival.”

Naveen nodded. “That’s what Florence and I are worried about. No matter what happens with Blake, you’re a First Year. You’ve seen how they treat us. You’re going to have to get through the Consort Games. Somehow.”

I thought back to the day in the Black Keep. Slowly I raised my left wrist and tugged the sleeve of the gray sweater I wore down just enough that a mark appeared.

“Is that the mark from the bonding ceremony?” Florence asked softly, looking at the red teardrop shape.

“Bondagemark, more like it,” I said bitterly. “I wish I could get rid of it. Scrub it off like it was ink.”

Naveen’s face was troubled. “But it’s not ink, Medra. You’re part of that triad now, no matter what.”

“Do you think Regan has the same marking?” I asked, suddenly curious. I’d never thought of it before.

Florence shook her head. “No. What you have is something different. I’ve never seen it before. You said Viktor did it?”

I nodded. “He marked Blake, too. He said some words. Almost like an incantation.” They’d also reminded me of a marriage.

What is spoken cannot be unbroken.

I shuddered, wondering what kind of magic had been involved. There had to be some way to undo it. It was a betrothal, I reminded myself. We weren’t married. Yet. Viktor Drakharrow had said this was just the beginning. I refused to accept–refused to believe–that I had to stay linked to Blake or to Regan in any way.

Maybe killing Blake would break the bond, a nagging voice in my head said.

It wasn’t such a terrible idea. It might wind up being the only way.

I thought of the fluffin. How Blake had been willing to take it to a healer. All right, then, the man had one miniscule redeeming quality. He didn’t hate animals.

Especially not tiny, cute ones.

That wasn’t enough to make him actually tolerable. Or worth not killing. Was it?

“You should ask Rodriguez about all of this,” Naveen was saying.

“Professor Rodriguez?” I frowned. “You don’t even take a class with him. I didn’t think you knew him.”

“Everyone knows Rodriguez. He has the biggest chip on his shoulder when it comes to highbloods and yet he’s still a cornerstone of Bloodwing,” Naveen said, grinning.

“Not to mention that he likes you, Medra,” Florence said encouragingly.

“I’m not so sure about that,” I said, with a grimace. “He tolerates me.”

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