Page 202 of On Wings of Blood

Yet he had also tried to be a hero.

He’d done something that was decidedly not in his own best interest. He’d broken highblood law to save a blightborn he didn’t even know. He’d risked his own life and his future.

Now he was tangled in a dangerous web of deceit. Because the older Aenia grew, the stronger she would get–and the more out of control. From what Blake had suggested, her mind was decaying and it sounded as if there was no way to reverse the process.

My mind turned to Blake’s mother. Lady Drakharrow. I didn’t even know her first name.

She must love Blake a great deal to risk so much to protect his secret, to shield a blightborn child–one who other highbloods would have left to die–and claim her as her own. The decision could have come with dire consequences for both of them. Yet Blake’s mother had taken that risk for him.

And Blake? He clearly felt love for the girl, or some semblance of it. I wasn’t sure if highbloods were even capable of love. The emotion seemed beyond them in some ways.

But whatever it was, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the loyalty he felt towards Aenia could lead to even more destruction.

After all, if he had felt nothing for her, he would have put her down already. That was something I hadn’t been able to say aloud the night before. Instead, the words had floated there in the air between us–unspoken, unacknowledged.

I sighed and lifted my satchel of books and parchments a little higher on my shoulder. The worst part of all of this was having to admit that while Blake wasn’t a good person–he had proven that time and again–hemightnot be entirely evil either. He was capable of guilt, of admitting mistakes–well, not when they came to me–and of carrying a weight of responsibility.

But sooner or later, he would be forced to choose between his guilt and his love and a chance to end the terrible thing that Aenia was becoming.

I paused with my hand on the doorframe of the Common Room, realizing that for the past night and day my thoughts had been consumed with Blake Drakharrow even more than usual. My feelings towards him felt sharper, more intense. Not to mention there was an unsettling awareness that was following around like a nagging shadow. All day I had felt more conscious of his presence somewhere in the school, even when we weren’t sharing a class.

My body felt differently, too. There was a restlessness in my limbs, like my muscles were constantly tense and primed for action. I’d had to actually hold myself back in Basic Combat earlier that afternoon, afraid I might accidentally hurt someone. I wondered how the feelings might have manifested if I’d had Advanced Weaponry. Part of me itched to try myself against a highblood.

And lastly, there was an annoying ache in my neck. Almost as if it were bruised. I’d found myself rubbing it throughout the day, as if I’d received an injury there I’d forgotten about. But this was more than pain. There was this...pull. As if I wanted something, needed something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. A pull in my throat tugging me towardshim.

I frowned. It was maddening. But I was sure all of these things were symptoms of drinking Blake’s blood. Ones he had conveniently failed to mention. Or maybe he had no idea they even existed. Were these side effects because I was blightborn? Either way, they were sure to be temporary. I just had to deal with them for now and get through the Consort Games. Blake had made it sound as if the effects of his blood would wear off soon after that.

I pushed the door open and stepped into the Common Room.

Several First Years were scattered about, talking quietly in armchairs by the large windows or reading quietly in one of the nooks by the bookcases.

My eyes fell upon Naveen. He was slumped on a couch near the fire, staring morosely into the flames.

Naveen’d been distant towards Florence and I ever since the Frostfire Festival. I’d assumed it had to do with disappointment. After all, he hadn’t worked up the courage to tell Florence how he felt that night at the dance. I’d put it down to his regret, but had expected him to get over it. There would be other chances.

But now, looking at him, I wondered if that was all there was to it.

I walked over to the couch. “Hey, you.”

He grunted slightly but otherwise didn’t respond.

I grimaced. He clearly didn’t want company but sometimes it wasn’t about what you wanted but what you needed. I decided the time was past for leaving him alone with his dark thoughts, whatever they were.

I sank down on the couch beside him, dropping my bag onto the floor.

“You all right?” I asked softly. “You’ve seemed kind of... off lately. You want to talk about it?”

Naveen ran his fingers through his short, dark hair. As usual, he wound up looking like a cranky hedgehog. I hid a smile.

He shrugged, still staring into the fire instead of looking at me.

“Is this about Florence?” I ventured. “Look, I know you didn’t talk to her like you wanted at the ball. There will be other chances though, Naveen. You see each other all the time. Do you want to practice on me... maybe?” It might have been a terrible idea, but I wasn’t sure what to suggest exactly.

He shook his head. “It’s not about Florence. Well,” he corrected. “Not just about Florence.” He glanced at me. “It’s just everything,” he admitted. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Now I was really alarmed. “What do you mean? What else is going on?”

He slunk lower on the couch. “I failed one of my classes.”

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