Page 97 of On Wings of Blood

I looked at the black dragon’s serrated teeth and menacing eyes and shuddered. “So the red one was House Drakharrow’s?”

Blake stepped towards the red stone dragon and put a hand against the rough, unpolished sandstone. “Vorago. He was an Inferni. The Inferni flew for House Drakharrow, yes.”

“And what was special about them?”

He shrugged. “They were fucking indestructible. At least, when it came to attacks from other dragons.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means their weakness was themselves. They were volatile. Unreliable. Breeding them was a danger all in itself. House Drakharrow lost more dragons and dragon riders than any of the other houses.” He looked me over. “They were prideful, stubborn, and hard to control. Sound familiar?”

I flushed. “I’m surprised House Drakharrow wanted them.”

“We wanted them because they were the best. They were the fastest of the four breeds. When they were ridden by well-trained riders, their attacks could be the most powerful of any breed. Once a rider bonded successfully with an Inferni, they could draw on their mount’s strength and even their courage. At least, so they say.”

“So they say,” I echoed.

I looked around me at the four statues, trying to imagine a time when these beasts actually flew through the skies. “Their appetites must have been huge.”

He nodded. “Which is why only the four great houses could afford to own them.”

“Own,” I said bitterly. “Why must you try to own everything?”

He looked at me but said nothing.

I turned away and looked up at the red stone dragon. Vorago.

The dragon’s eyes were the most aggressive of the four. Whoever had carved him had perfectly captured a sense of burning passion and rage.

“He doesn’t want to be here,” I said quietly.

“He wants to fly,” Blake agreed. “He’s angry that he can’t. He’s trapped here for another few centuries. Until the stone he’s carved from finally crumbles and he falls to dust.”

He stepped up beside me, looking up at the red dragon, but made no move to touch me. Still, I could feel him there, just a few inches away from my shoulder. I held very, very still.

“Why are you really here, Pendragon? Obviously you want something. What is it?”

I hesitated, then leaped. “When I left the party last night, I saw a girl on the beach. A young highblood girl.”

He was close enough that I sensed him stiffen.

“She had clearly just fed,” I continued.

He snorted. “You can tell when we’ve just fed now, can you, Pendragon?”

“There was blood on her lips,” I said defensively. “And that isn’t all. After she passed by, I heard a cry.”

He glanced at me. “Was someone hurt?”

I was honestly shocked he’d even asked.

“Not someone exactly. An animal. Do you know what a fluffin is?”

He scoffed. “Everyone knows what a fluffin is. I probably had a stuffed one as a child.”

I tried not to show my surprise. “Right. Well, there was a little fluffin pup there in the sand. It was bleeding out.”

“Feeding doesn’t usually kill, if that’s what you’re worried about, Pendragon.” He was trying to sound bored. But I could tell he wasn’t.

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