Page 19

19

LUKE

The academy is going about as normal as I make my final preparations for tonight’s ritual. This is top secret. Whatever happens tonight, I want as few witnesses as possible. It’s already coming back to bite me on the arse that Dante still walks around after he killed Aurelius. Too many creatures saw that. They even had a bet on it. It’s a total disaster. I’m waiting, just waiting, for Mrs Aragon to show up, wondering where her husband is. I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to tell her. She will have Dante’s head for it, and that is something that I cannot allow.

I secure the last of the ritual supplies in a bag. Silver daggers, blessed salt, candles made from a blend of beeswax and blood. My hands move mechanically through these tasks while my mind wanders elsewhere.

To Gaida. To Felix. To the bond that will soon connect them, just as it now connects her and me.

The sire bond with Gaida pulses through my veins like liquid fire, a constant awareness of her that never fades. Even now, I can feel her emotions. Anxiety, determination, and something deeper, more tender that I know isn’t directed at me. She’s with Felix and Dante.

I’ve never experienced anything like this bond with Gaida. It’s raw, primal, and all-consuming. It’s a connection that goes beyond blood or magick to something soul-deep. And tonight, she’ll forge that same connection with Felix.

It shouldn’t bother me. It mostly doesn’t. But there is that part of me that is irritated by it. It’s very much a part of the vampire part that sees the world in terms of territory and possession.

I look at the clock and check the time. There are just over three hours until midnight. Three hours until Felix sacrifices himself to destroy Mashtar. Three hours until Gaida attempts to turn him.

Before I can second-guess myself, I leave my office and head toward the vault. There are questions I need answered before tonight, and only one being who might provide them.

The corridors are deserted as I make my way through the academy, my footsteps echo on the stone floors.

The vault door looms before me, still sealed with my magick. I hesitate, my hand hovering over the locking mechanism. Draken is dangerous. Not in the obvious, feral way of a rampaging vampire, but in the subtle, insidious manner of ancient beings whose motivations remain opaque.

Yet he’s also our only source of information about what happens after Mashtar is destroyed. And more importantly, what happens to Gaida when it’s done?

I press my palm against the door, murmuring the words that unravel my wards. The heavy stone swings open silently.

Draken stands exactly where we left him. His eyes, those unsettling green orbs, fix on me immediately.

“The Blood Rights holder,” he says, his tone neutral. “Come for answers at last?”

I step inside. “How did you know?”

His smile is cold. “The clock is ticking. You’ve prepared as much as possible for the ritual itself, but you have no idea what comes after.”

“And you do.”

“More than most.” He gestures to a stone bench against the wall. “Shall we speak as civilised beings?”

I remain standing. “Let’s start with the obvious. What happens to you when Mashtar is destroyed?”

“Direct. I appreciate that. I cease to exist.”

“Why?”

“My father and I are connected in life and in death. If one half is destroyed completely, the other cannot survive.”

“You’re at peace with this?”

“I’ve existed for millennia trapped in that chalice, watching the world change through the narrowest of windows. True death holds little fear for me now.”

I study him, searching for deceit. “Felix can destroy Mashtar because he has no bond to him. Because he’s an outsider to this entire history.”

“Yes. His blood from two worlds makes him the perfect catalyst for the ritual. And his purity...” Draken shrugs. “That simply ensures the magick functions as intended, without corruption.”

A question burns in my throat, one I’ve been avoiding since Gaida severed my bond with Mashtar and created ours. “And what happens to Gaida when it’s done? When Mashtar is destroyed?”

Draken studies me, his ancient eyes unreadable. “You fear she’ll become like the original Blood Queen. Consumed by power, forced to make impossible choices.”

“Will she?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On you. On Felix. On Dante. The original Blood Queen faced her burden alone, isolated by her power and her choices. Gaida has what she never did, people who love her not for what she is, but who she is.”

Hope flickers in my chest, but I tamp it down. “You’re saying her connections to us will anchor her?”

“I’m saying they already do.” His expression softens fractionally. “You’ve felt it through your bond. The way she resists the darker aspects of her nature. The way she fights against the pull of power.”

He’s right. I have felt Gaida’s constant struggle against the more primal urges that come with being the Blood Queen. Her determination to remain herself despite everything.

“The boundaries between worlds grow weaker over time. Eventually, perhaps not in your lifetime or even hers, but eventually, the worlds would begin to bleed into one another again.”

“So, either way, we lose her,” I say.

Draken’s expression changes, something almost like sympathy crossing his features. “Not necessarily. The original Blood Queen made her choices alone, with no one to guide or support her. Gaida has all of you. That may make all the difference.”

“This second sire bond she’ll create with Felix—will it help or hinder her?”

“That depends on how you respond to it.” His directness catches me off guard. “The sire bond is sacred. Profound. But it needn’t be exclusive to be powerful.”

“You care for her,” I say, surprised.

“Of course I do. She is everything.” His smile is sad. “But more than that, she’s herself. Unique, stubborn, and compassionate in ways her predecessor never was. She deserves better than the fate that’s been written for her.”

A question forms in my mind, one I’ve been avoiding. “This connection between you and Gaida. Is it merely an echo of the past, or something more?”

Draken considers this. “It’s both, I think. There’s a resonance between us because of who she is, who I am. A recognition of sorts.” He studies me. “Does that trouble you?”

“Yes,” I admit simply.

“Because you fear she might choose differently if circumstances were other than they are.”

I don’t answer, but my silence is confirmation enough.

“You needn’t worry on that account,” he says. “Gaida has made her choice clear. More than once.”

“Then why does she grieve for you already?” The question escapes before I can stop it, revealing more of my insecurity than I intended.

“Because she feels the pain of what once was. Because she’s compassionate enough to mourn what might have been in another life.” Draken’s expression softens. “Not because she wishes things were different in this one.”

His words ease something tight in my chest, though I’m reluctant to show it. Instead, I change the subject. “After Mashtar is destroyed and you’re gone. What happens to the ferals? To those Mashtar controlled?”

“They’ll be free. Healed or not depends on how long they were under his influence. Some may recover fully. Others...” He shrugs. “The damage may be too extensive.”

“And the sword itself?”

“Will crumble to dust.” His eyes meet mine. “But the chalice will remain. It should be secured somewhere no one will find it.”

“Why? If you’ll be gone?—”

“Because magickal artefacts of that power never truly lose their potential.” His expression turns grim. “In the wrong hands, even an empty chalice can be dangerous.”

I nod, making a mental note to ensure the chalice is secured after tonight’s ritual. “Is there anything else I should know before we begin?”

Draken tilts his head, considering. “Only this: when the moment comes for Gaida to make her choice about the power that returns to her, she’ll need all of you. Not just your support, but your strength. Your love. Felix may be weakened from the turning, but you and Dante must be her anchors.”

“We will be.”

“Good.” He straightens, his posture shifting to something more formal. “Then I believe we’re done here, Headmaster Blackthorn.”

I move toward the door, then pause. “Will you fight it? When the end comes?”

His smile is resigned. “Would you, in my position?”

I consider this. “No. I would welcome the peace of true death.”

“As will I.” He inclines his head. “Though I admit to one regret.”

“What’s that?”

“That I won’t see what she becomes.” His eyes hold a genuine sadness. “She will be magnificent, you know. Whatever path she chooses.”

“I know,” I say softly.

He seems to hesitate, then speaks again. “Take care of her, Blackthorn. Not because she needs it, she’s stronger than any of us truly understand, but because she deserves it.”

The sincerity in his voice surprises me. “I will.”

As I leave the vault and reseal it, leaving Draken to his final hours, his words echo in my mind as I head to the forest to meet up with the others. This is going to be a long night.