Page 204 of On Wings of Blood

“And she’s not wrong,” Vaughn said, leaning back against the couch. “Of course, it’s not as if we don’t have time to acquire the skills. It’s only our first year, after all. I’ve heard some First Year cohorts don’t even get into stealth training at all by the end of Springrise. Professor Stonefist can be kind of a stickler if she thinks you’re not ready.”

“Better that than letting us get too far ahead of ourselves, I guess,” Naveen chimed in.

I was happy to see him taking part in the conversation. We continued to chat about the class, talking about who seemed to be struggling the most with the newest grappling technique we’d been taught, and speculating on when Stonefist might let us finally switch to something more interesting.

When the conversation finally lulled, Florence jumped up. “Come on, let’s head down to the refectory. I’m starving.”

The great hall was buzzing with the usual crowd of students unwinding after the day’s classes. The scent of freshly cooked food hit my nostrils and made me realize just how hungry I was.

My eyes drifted over to the House Drakharrow table. Blake sat there, beside Theo and Regan. But he had his back to me.

My hand absently reached up to my neck, brushing against one of the sensitive places Blake’s mouth had been that night in the Sanctum. With a little huff of annoyance, I yanked it back down as I realized what I was doing.

I sat down at a table with my friends, filling my plate, and forcing myself not to look at Blake’s back.

Had he lied to me? Today had been just another ordinary day. Yet he’d promised that the Consort Games would be held soon. Maybe I’d been wrong to trust him, to drink that vial–even with all he’d confessed about Aenia.

After finishing up dinner in the refectory, I said goodnight to Florence and the others and then made my way to my room, suddenly exhausted. Clearly that vial of Blake’s blood I’d drunk wasn’t about to give me insomnia, even if it did heighten my strength and senses.

The conversation I’d had with Naveen lingered in my mind.

Part of me felt guilty knowing I now had to keep what he’d told me from Florence. I suspected she’d have had a much better idea of what to do to help him.

I decided I’d have to talk to Naveen again alone and try to persuade him to talk to Florence–about his grades, even if nothing else. Maybe Florence’s mother, Jia, would know of some options for Naveen. Surely there was a way he’d be able to repeatthe class he’d failed, do some make-up assignments, or retake his exams.

If worse came to worse, maybe I could approach Blake and demand he help out somehow.

Which made me remember why he’d told me about Aenia in the first place. He’d claimed he was giving me leverage. Something to use against him.

I yanked off my clothes and tossed them into the hamper, then pulled on a robe and lay down on my bed.

Leverage. What did Blake really expect me to do with knowledge that might get him killed?

I thought of how I might use it. I could go to someone like Headmaster Kim, I supposed, and reveal what Blake had done. If Blake was telling the truth, then he’d be pulled up before some sort of highblood tribunal and would face the full wrath of Sangratha’s highblood laws. He could be executed. I assumed Aenia would fare no better.

Not so long ago, the idea of Blake being horribly tortured and killed would have brought a smile of joy to my face. I hated him then. Hated him for how he’d treated me, for his cold superiority, for the betrothal I’d never asked for.

But now things were different. Without meaning to, I’d come to know him better. I couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d done what he’d done to try to save Aenia.

When I looked at him, I didn’t see the same person he’d been at the start of the year.

I wondered what he saw when he looked at me.

I lay back on my pillow, staring up at the star-covered ceiling.

I could get rid of him once and for all. The question was could I really live with that on my conscience? And would I be better off without him?

There was no way Lord Drakharrow was going to let me go. If Blake was out of the picture, who would they give me to next? Marcus Drakharrow? I shuddered.

Pushing myself up on my elbows, I looked over at the item on my nightstand. Coregon’s dagger with Orcades’ soul trapped inside. If Aenia was a symbol of Blake’s failure, the dagger was equally one of mine.

Most days, I brought the blade with me. Even tucked into my boot, Orcades could take in most of the things around me.

Each night before sleep claimed me, I’d gotten into the routine of reaching for it and speaking with her.

I sat up and pulled it into my hands.

Mother?

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