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“Pendragon, run! Get back to the tower!”

It might have been good advice, but it was too late—Gretchen’s blade swept towards me. I dove beneath it, my knife slicing her thigh. She shrieked and stumbled, but Lucian’s rapier was lunging for my ribs. I twisted aside, throwing a fist into his jaw. Theo ripped two knives from the bandolier across his chest. One left his hand at a mind-numbing speed, landing in Edward Ashveil’s shoulder. The other he used to parry a thrust from Larissa. Kicking the heel of his boot into her knee, he dropped her to the ground. We were holding our own. We might have even carved our way out.

If a second wave hadn’t swept in from behind.

They poured into the hall, twenty or more Bloodguards with Silvio Santos at their head. They were even more heavily armed than Quinn and her group, all in House Mortis armor.

They’d had this planned. They’d been waiting for us to come out. Were they starting with us, or had they already swept the Avari tower?

Theo hurled knife after knife until I saw him reach for his last. A Bloodguard blocked it, smashing his shield into Theo’s face, while three others crashed into him, hammering him down, then wrenching his arms behind his back.

“Theo!” I started towards him, but a gauntleted fist caught me in the ribs. Pain exploded, and I doubled over. Two Bloodguards were there in a flash, pinning my arms back so tightly I couldn’t lift them.

Silvio approached. Reaching down, he plucked the remaining blade from my left thigh-sheath and tossed it aside with a grin. Blake roared as I struggled—the sound brutal and animalistic. He took a step towards me, his sword dripping red.

“Hold, House Leader,” Quinn called. “One more step, one more twitch, and your cousin bleeds out.” She had a knife to Theo’s throat.

I met Blake’s eyes, horrified. He stopped, chest heaving, knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. He lowered it, point down, and was ringed in an instant.

Silvio grabbed me by the hair, pushing me down on my knees. He grinned at me. “We meet again. This time I really do think I’ll have a taste, curls.”

I spit up at him, gratified when my saliva actually managed to hit his jaw.

He laughed, wiping it away. “Easy, baby. Lord Drakharrow wants to see you. We can’t party yet.” He turned to Blake, whose eyes were full of blood and murder. “Good to see you again, Drakharrow. You’re talking to the new Mortis leader.”

Blake stared. “And what—I’m supposed to be impressed? Didn’t you graduate five years ago, Santos? What kind of a fucking idiot comes back to the same school?”

I burst out laughing, and Silvio smacked me in the face with a snarl. My head reeled, but it wasn’t enough to wipe the smile off my face. Then Quinn barked an order and Blake, Theo, and I were herded down the corpse-strewn hallway.

Before long, the refectory doors loomed before us—for the second time that night. I could already feel Viktor Drakharrow’s shadow stretching out like a skeletal hand. I thought of Florence: This was supposed to be a rescue mission. If this was how badly we were faring, what were the chances she was doing any better?

CHAPTER 29

BLAKE

The wooden doors of the refectory were flung open, and we were driven in at swordpoint. I looked around the hall. Hours ago the place had glittered with candles, been filled with the strains of music, and held the most elite highbloods in Sangratha. Now only traces of opulence were left. Tables had been shoved to the sides, tablecloths askew, crystal glassware smashed on the floor. The raised stage the musicians had played on had been stripped of instruments. A large chair now sat in its center, like a makeshift throne on a dais. And standing before the throne was my uncle.

Viktor had healed a little more since I’d last seen him, but he still wasn’t looking up to snuff. His snowywhite hair was still ragged and patched in places. The left side of his face sagged in waxy folds. His eyes were the same as always, though. Dark rubies glittering in deep hollows. I glimpsed fear in those eyes—but something else, too. Something that made me frightened. Excitement.

“Bring them forward,” he rasped.

Quinn gave me a shove. Beside me, Theo stumbled, his wrists tied behind him, flanked by two Bloodguards. Pendragon had been permitted to walk under her own power—that is, until she reached the dais and Silvio Santos lodged a palm between her shoulder blades and shoved her down onto her knees.

“Touch her again and lose that hand,” I snarled at him. Not that I’d be stopping with a hand.

“Easy, Nephew,” Viktor drawled. “Our new House Mortis leader is simply enthusiastic.”

Silvio wiggled his eyebrows at me and grinned. “Sure am, Lord Drakharrow.” Then he backhanded Pendragon full in the face, his eyes never leaving mine.

Pendragon winced but didn’t cry out. I watched blood drop from her split lip, her cheek bright red from the blow. I saw fire. The blood I would spill in this hall tonight, I decided, would be truly torrential. A downpour. All of it spilled in her name.

“Now, now, Santos. That’s enough of that.” Viktor beckoned to another Bloodguard standing at the foot of the dais. This one wore House Avari colors beneath his blood-and-sword badge. “Cade, be so good as to hold the girl, won’t you?”

I looked at the Bloodguard coming towards Pendragon. He grabbed her by the shoulder, hauling her to her feet, and pulled her arms roughly behind her back. Something wasn’t right. I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth as the sound of wet, bubbling rot gurgled up and filled my ears.

“No,” I snapped. “Not him. Get his filthy hands off her.”

Heads turned towards me. Cade narrowed his eyes.