Page 207 of On Wings of Blood

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I said, my voice low. “I fucking hate this.” But I didn’t dare to say more. Afraid I might give away some truths with my lies.

Theo looked away, his jaw tight. “Just leave it, Blake. It’s done.” His voice sounded tired. He slouched back on the bench.

I tried to settle back into my seat, but my mind was churning with thoughts of Pendragon and now Theo. A light touch on my shoulder pulled me from my thoughts.

“House Leader?”

I looked up to see Lucian Aleron standing over me. Visha Vaidya's archon wore a sleek black tunic embroidered with red thread, its billowing sleeves cuffed just below his wrists. His long, pale blond hair was tied in a tail at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon. Silver rings glittered on his slender fingers.

Lucian was polished, I’d give him that. But there was something pompous about him that had always grated on my nerves. He liked to play the role of archon to perfection. Lucian wasn’t a fool, but he lacked Visha’s steel.

Lucian’s other consort, Evander Sylvain, was out there on the island with Visha right now. Lithe and tall, he had delicate features that gave him an androgynous look. LackingVisha’s fierceness and Lucian’s ingratiating ambition, Evander was softer, more introspective, lacking the typical highblood ruthlessness. The best quality he brought to his triad was loyalty–to Lucian, to Visha, and to House Drakharrow–and thus, by extension, to me.

The irony of it all wasn’t lost on me. Lucian and Evander were generally believed to be a love match. Lucian’s father had approved the union, with the condition that Visha be added in to strengthen the pair.

In contrast, there was no way in hell Theo would be permitted to select male consorts.

But our uncle’s prejudices remained mostly hidden from other highbloods for now, even within House Drakharrow. The key words being “for now.” I had no doubt he’d try to extend his reach as soon as he dared.

I thought of Visha and the task I’d assigned her. I trusted her to be ruthless, to do what was needed. Lucian and Evander lacked her fire. Eventually, Visha would control both of them easily, whether she was their official archon or not.

I looked back at Lucian, wondering what had brought him here.

He smiled at me, but there was a hint of unease in his eyes. “I thought you’d want to know. Before the consorts were taken, Regan Pansera formally requested that the Crown of Bone be used on Medra Pendragon before the Games began.”

My blood began to boil. I started to spring up from my seat. Theo’s hand held me down.

“Steady, cuz,” he warned. “Don’t make a scene.”

He knew what this meant. So did Lucian.

But Lucian didn’t need to see how much the idea of Pendragon being under threat bothered me. Let him think I was simply furious at Regan’s defiance.

Still, I couldn’t hold back a growl. “How did this happen?” I demanded.

Lucian took a cautious step back. “She’s of dragon rider blood and a blightborn no less. Regan’s argument was compelling–and valid as far as I could tell.” He dropped his voice. “I happened to be near the Headmaster’s office.”

He’d eavesdropped in other words. But I didn’t care how he’d found out.

“Thank you for informing me,” I said stiffly. “Good luck to you and your consorts in the games.”

He nodded. “The same to you, Drakharrow. Just thought you’d want to know.”

My jaw clenched but I forced myself to sit on the bench and feign calm.

I glanced at Theo. I knew he liked Pendragon. We both knew what the Crown of Bone meant for her.

Crafted from ancient dragon bones, the crown was rarely used and usually had to be requested by a consort’s archon. It was an artifact reserved for testing the loyalty of consorts who were chosen from blightborn bloodlines.

The crown could peer into a blightborn’s mind, forcing them to confront their deepest loyalties and fears. It would make them select someone from their lives–someone they cared about.Only a blightborn would be chosen, of course. The consort wouldn’t even realize what they’d done. The decision would be unconscious and by the time they figured out what had happened, it would be too late.

I ran a hand over my face, as if trying to wipe away the worry I felt. No one could see, no one could know how much this was all getting to me.

The crown might destroy Pendragon. And Regan, that venomous bitch, had known exactly what she was doing when she’d requested it be used.

But there was absolutely no way I could stop it now.

Approximately six hours from now and this would all be over. I was betting on Pendragon being a survivor. What didn’t kill her would make her stronger. Right?

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