Page 208 of On Wings of Blood

CHAPTER 51 - MEDRA

My eyes fluttered open, my head pounding with a dull ache. I lay on a hard cot in a shadowy stone cavern. Slowly, I propped myself up on my elbows. Around me were rows of other cots. All of them were empty.

My heart sped up. Had they started the Games already? Had I missed them?

Before I could move, I felt something being lifted from my head. I looked up and saw Professor Wispwood standing over me. The blonde, halfborn professor looked down at me with sympathy in her eyes, then murmured, “Good luck.”

She walked across the room carrying something in her hands and placed it in a wooden box. A white circlet. Why had it been on my head?

The last thing I remembered was falling asleep in my own bed.

No, the last thing I remembered wasdreaming. I’d been dreaming of Florence and Naveen. We’d been talking and laughing together in the Common Room. It’d felt so real.

I sat up groggily, then groaned. The cloth. I remembered the sickeningly sweet scent of it pressed to my mouth and nose. I'd been drugged. Had I been affected worse than the other consorts? Was that why everyone else was gone?

I glanced down at myself. I was in my underthings. There was a small table beside the cot. On it sat a neatly folded pile of clothes. A plain tunic and trousers of a dark, sturdy material sat beneatha leather vest, lined with pockets. On the floor next to the cot was a pair of familiar leather boots.

I pulled on the clothes, unable to shake the sense of panic. Everyone else was gone. They had a head start.

It was stupid but I supposed some part of me had held out the faint hope that Regan might have changed her mind.

But no, here I was–all alone.

I started to pull on my boots. My fingers brushed against something cold. Coregon's dagger.

Stay calm,Orcades voice rang in my head.Don’t draw attention.Professor Wispwood was still organizing instruments on the far side of the room.Get up. You need to get moving.

I pulled on the boots the rest of the way, carefully keeping the knife tucked alongside my right calf. I’d been hoping to bring the dagger in with me. That had been my plan all along. But I hadn’t exactly been given a chance to pack.

Had the other consorts been given weapons? Or only me?

The soul-imbued dagger gave me a slight advantage. But considering I’d been left here alone and was the last one out, it might not be enough of one.

I walked out of the cavern and into the light. It looked to be about mid-morning. I raised a hand to my eyes, squinting. The daylight was almost blinding after the darkness of the underground dorm. My legs felt wobbly, as if they belonged to someone else. What the fuck had they given me? Whatever it was, I hoped Regan had gotten it, too.

My boots sank slightly into the damp earth as I scanned my surroundings. The air was thick with a humid heat. A stark contrast to the cool spring we were experiencing back at Bloodwing. This was another world altogether. I stood on the edge of an island–lush, almost jungle-like, with towering trees draped in vines that created a dense canopy overhead.

The foliage around me was rich with the smell of wet bark, damp moss, and flowers.

I walked forward through the trees and reached a dead end. A gorge lay in front of me, separating the underground dormitory from the main part of the island. Below, a thin mist rose up from the depths of the gorge.

My stomach dropped as I spotted the only way across. A stone platform, barely wide enough for two people, jutted up out of the mist, perched on top of a high stone pillar.

But there was only one. It was close to me. I could jump onto it if I tried. But leaping onto it would only get me part way across the gorge.

I moved towards the cliff’s edge and caught sight of two figures standing on the other side.

Visha Vaidya looked back at me, her hands on her hips. The last time we’d crossed paths the girl had tried to beat me to a pulp.

Behind her stood a tall, slender boy with silver hair. He looked less than pleased. They’d clearly been arguing. Visha seemed to have won the debate.

Evander, I thought, remembering the male consort’s name. Florence had been telling me about some of the recently formedtriads. Visha had been paired with an arrogant, sulky-looking highblood named Lucian and another consort named Evander.

“Pendragon!” Visha called across the gap. “Wait. You’ll never make it across alone.”

I ignored her and stepped to the edge of the cliff, gauging the space between the cliff and the platform.

I jumped.

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