AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Because of the, uh, “power couples,” we were talking about when you first told me about the Edict?” I said. The fact that it makes the Others who bind themselves together that way so much more powerful?”
Avery nodded. “Blood-Bonding allows those who bond to share their powers while doubling their strengths and halving their weaknesses. But it only works like that when two different species of Others bond. That’s why it’s not done anymore—everyone bonds with their own kind and since, in that case, you don’t get anything out of Blood Bond except being permanently tied together, people don’t do it much. It’s kind of like…getting married with no prenup or any option for divorce.”
“That’s interesting,” I murmured. If there was that much power to be had from a Blood-Bond between members of different Other groups, no wonder my ancestress Corinne and her Windermere Coven had outlawed it. Such power would have been able to contravene any authority—making such couples a real threat to the establishment. And the more powerful the parties involved, the greater the threat.
“Is Megan going to get into trouble because of taking Griffin’s mark?” Kaitlyn asked, looking worried. “Because like she said, she didn’t know what he was doing and she never asked for it.”
Avery frowned. “Well, there might be some blowback if anyone finds out it’s his mark on her since he is a different kind of Other than she is. But number one, it was justified—Darkheart was doing it to protect Megan from Sanchez. And number two, it’s not a complete marking. I mean, he marked her but she didn’t mark him back. And it’s certainly not like they Blood-Bonded. I mean, they’re not bound together for life or anything.”
“Whew!” I exclaimed but inside I felt a strange mixture of relief and…was it really regret?
I told myself this second emotion made no sense. Of course I didn’t want to be bound to anyone for life—especially Griffin who was being Censured by the Council and who I had only just met yesterday.
God, was it only yesterday that all this had started? My life was moving just a little too fast for me lately. I was beginning to feel like I was riding in a speeding car with no doors or windshield and if I wasn’t careful I was going to fly out!
“Just keep it quiet,” Avery advised me. “Only people who are looking for the mark will see it. It would only stand out if you marked Darkheart back. So right now it’s kind of like a flesh-colored Band-Aid, you know?”
This didn’t do much to ease my worries but there didn’t seem to be much else I could do but follow Avery’s advice and keep both my Blood magic and my new ties to the tall Nocturne as quiet as possible. I wondered if Sanchez would spread the word—hopefully not. Maybe his shame at having been marked by me would keep him from wanting to bring up the subject of what he had seen between me and Griffin.
“Okay,” I said unhappily. “So I’ll just keep my head down and try not to cause trouble?”
One corner of Avery’s mouth quirked up into a grin.
“Yes, do try to go a whole day without having a public fight with the Weird Sisters or shame-marking another Drake or getting yourself claimed and marked by any more Censured Nocturnes or anything else like that—okay?”
“She hasn’t done anything with the Faes yet,” Emma remarked. “You have to give her that at least.”
“Don’t tempt her,” Avery said sardonically. “You never can tell—maybe there’s a Fae prince in disguise here at the Academy, just waiting to sweep Princess Latimer here off her feet.”
“Hardly,” I said dryly. “And even if there is, I’ll pass on him. You take him, Emma.”
She laughed. “As snooty as all the Fae are? I don’t think so.”
“Anyway, nothing that has happened to Megan has been her fault,” Kaitlyn said staunchly, defending me. “She just…happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that one bit,” Avery said dryly. “I don’t mean I think you’re to blame, Princess,” he said to me. “I just mean, I don’t believe that things happen by chance—not at Nocturne Academy. Something is working behind the scenes—something big is coming. We just have to find out what it is before it bursts out and steamrolls over all of us!”
“But what—?” I began.
But just at that moment, the right front pocket of Avery’s stylish retro smoking jacket suddenly split wide open. His invisi-bag—now visible again with all its bright colors—came tipping out of the torn pocket, growing as it came. Out of it spilled what looked like a whole grocery cart full of food and cooking supplies.
We watched in shock as a dozen potatoes, a bunch of carrots—their green feathery tops still attached, about a pound of onions, a bushel of apples, a bunch of pears, and several packets of spices along with some cans of stock as well as a pound of butter went rolling across the floor. A bag of fresh rolls came next and then a large new roasting pan, a mixing bowl, and an instrument I thought was a potato masher. To top it off, a huge, plump chicken that looked almost as big as a turkey flopped to the floor at Avery’s feet, still sealed securely in its plastic wrapping.
