Page 13 of On Wings of Blood

“At this female’s defiance,” she continued. “Anger at her disrespect for your house, for this court, for our sacred traditions.”

“I know nothing about your traditions,” I said loudly. “And I meant no disrespect.”

The young woman’s face took on an expression of disgust. “Even now she speaks to me as if she had a place here. As if she had a right to speak among the Pure of Blood. But she was found on a heap of dirt. She reeks of the grave and I cannot help but hope you send her back to it, my lord. You do not deserve to be spoken to with such disdain.”

Lord Drakharrow tilted his head thoughtfully. “What of the marks she bears, Miss Pansera? Would you have me kill her or allow her to depart despite that?”

The girl in the violet gown shrugged. “What does it matter if she bears a rider’s marks when there is nothing to ride?”

I glanced quickly at the prince, confused by the words, but he would not meet my eyes. His lips were pressed together in a thinline. Was he displeased with Miss Pansera’s speech? Or was he simply annoyed at having to be there at all?

Miss Pansera was stepping back demurely, taking up her place amongst the other nobles on the platform, her head bowed respectfully.

But though her head was tilted downwards, her eyes remained on me.

It was clear she wanted Lord Drakharrow to kill me here today. What had I done to make her my enemy? Or was it simply that I was not a vampire?

“Regan Pansera speaks true,” Lord Drakharrow admitted to the crowd. “There have not been dragons in our lands in more than one hundred years.”

My heart leaped at the word. Dragons.

“The last riders died out long before that.” Lord Drakharrow scanned the crowd. “And we–the Chosen, the Pure, the Blessed Blood–are sadly the weaker for it. Are we not?”

A subdued murmur of agreement.

He raised his voice a little. “This girl, wherever she really comes from, bears the unmistakable marks of a rider. See the color of her hair. The pointed tips of her ears. Look at how her fingers and toes are elongated, just as the riders of old.”

I glanced down at my hands self-consciously, curling them into fists. But my feet were bare. There was nothing I could do to hide them. All around me, everyone stared and murmured.

Beads of sweat prickled the back of my neck. I tried to remain calm. My hands and feet were like any fae’s back in Aercanum.Elongated? I was half-fae, so I supposed they were. More than a full human’s. There was nothing unusual about that where I came from.

“Her build,” Lord Drakharrow continued, raising both hands and then lowering them to gesture to my body. “A lean, streamlined physique, optimized for balance and agility.” He eyed me. “Her bones. Were we to conduct experiments, no doubt we would find them to be denser, reinforced. Reducing her risk of injury from maneuvers and impacts.”

I swallowed hard. “Experiments” sounded ominous.

“I have no idea what you are even talking about,” I announced. “The only thing I’ve ever ridden is a horse. Certainly not a dragon.”

The crowd laughed. At me. Not with me as they had done with the perfect Miss Pansera.

“Do they not have dragons where you come from, Miss Pendragon?” Lord Drakharrow inquired. “Your name would suggest they do. What land is this you hail from? I would very much like to visit it one day.”

I shook my head. “It’s a name, nothing more. I cannot even recall the name of my land,” I lied. “Perhaps there were dragons there once, long ago, but no one alive has ever seen them. Not where I come from. It’s just a name.”

It was, in fact, the name of kings and queens. The Pendragons were an ancient line. And thanks to my mother’s poor choice of men, I was a part of it through my father’s side.

Poor choice? Or careful plotting?

The voice in my head was back again.

Get out,I hissed at her.You have no right to be here.

A tinkling laugh.You have no idea how wrong you are.

But she was silent after that.

“I see.” A thin smile. Lord Drakharrow thought I was lying through my teeth. “Well,thisland did have dragons, Medra Pendragon. They were not simply names. They existed. And they had riders.”

“And you think... what? That I’m one of them?” I stared up at him in disbelief. “You’ve already established there are no dragons anymore, right? So why does it matter?” I glanced at Regan Pansera, as if expecting commiseration–after all, we agreed about this, didn’t we? But her eyes remained dagger-like.

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