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My eyes moved to the other man. Slightly leaner. Elegant even in bronze. “And Lysander.”
At the base of the sculpture was a plaque. It had just one line on it. Ex Sanguine Unitas. It was part of Bloodwing’s motto.
“From blood, unity,” Blake said, his hand finding mine.
I nodded, too moved to speak. Neither of us said anything else. After a while, we turned and walked out of the Dragon Court together, his hand still warm in mine.
Chapter 70
BLAKE
A Few Days Later
Somnaria Institute, Sable Isles
We’d taken our time crossing western Sangratha. Sometimes we’d set up camp on a quiet beach. Sometimes we’d stop in a village and check into an inn. We were treating it like a vacation of sorts, just two young newlyweds who’d graduated from school and had their whole futures ahead of them.
Pendragon flew on my back each day, with Neville beside her. Our essentials were in a backpack strapped to Pendragon’s back. All of Neville’s were in a tiny pouch she’d managed to get him to wear on his. It was padded nicely so he’d taken to flipping onto his back and using it as a kind of pillow half the time.
Now, a week after leaving Bloodwing, we were standing in the library of the Somnaria Institute. “Damn,” I remarked. “Orphos really does make everything prettier.”
Pendragon smacked me. “Shhh.”
My voice had echoed, and a few students were looking up curiously from where they sat, hard at work at tables littered with papers and books. But it was true: Bloodwing was all stone and dark wood, whereas Somnaria had more space and light to it. The library was all pale honey-colored shelves and prettily carved little balconies. One entire wall of the place was floor-to-ceiling windows, some of them open to let in a warm sea breeze. Beyond the windows was a broad terrace, lined with shrubs and covered with low white tables. Past that I could see flowering gardens and glittering blue water. There was also a café. I watched some students stroll away from its counter carrying mugs of steaming kava and plates of fresh-baked treats.
“They get treats here? Why don’t we have more treats?” I complained.
I glanced over at Pendragon. She was looking around at everything with wide eyes, looking like a tourist—which we both were. She seemed so damn happy. All of the wind and sun over the last few days had put more color in her face. I loved how more freckles had cropped up across her cheeks, the dots contrasting against her tanned skin. Her curls, lightened a little from the sun, were pulled back with a dark ribbon; now some parts were streaked to a light gold, and others were copper from where the light had baked them. She looked beautiful. But more than beautiful, she looked at peace. Seeing her like that made my chest unclench a little.
“We have a café,” she reminded me. “And you sound like Neville right now.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
“I’m just saying Bloodwing could use more snacks. If we’d had more snacks, I might’ve been a better student,” I protested.
She snorted. Before I could crack a joke about being her little fluffin, I saw a familiar figure emerging from the stacks. Florence Shen’s dark brown eyes lit up as she saw us. She hurried forward, one hand on the curve of her belly, one hand impatiently pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. Pendragon made a little exclamation and took off running.
I studied Florence; she looked very pretty. I’d heard pregnancy was not a pleasant experience for many women, but in her case, it had definitely given her that special glow. Her skin was radiant, her long dark hair bright and glossy. She wore it braided and pinned up around her head in delicate loops in a style I’d never seen before. Maybe it was an Orphos trend, like the way high-bloods here liked to add colors to their hair. Overall, Florence was looking much less like a student and more like a professor these days. Her outfit was elegant and scholarly—a creamy blouse with a ruffled collar and tiny pearl buttons layered beneath a royal blue pinafore-style dress. The dress’s skirt was long and full, and it flowed over her widening stomach, before hitting sensible brown leather lace-up boots.
Pendragon reached her, and soon the two of them were holding onto one another like they were afraid the other might vanish.
“I can’t believe you’re really here!” Florence laughed, tears on her cheeks. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“We’re here,” Pendragon said, her voice shaking. “Florence—I can’t believe it. Just look at you!”
“I know,” Florence replied. “I’m huge, aren’t I?”
“You’re perfect,” Pendragon reassured her. She tucked a loose piece of Florence’s hair behind her ear gently. “You’re even more beautiful. You’re going to be such a wonderful mother.”
I hung back, letting them have their moment. Neville had been draped over my shoulders like I was a piece of furniture. That murder bear had completely spoiled him, and now he was used to the special treatment. Now he lifted his head, ears shooting up, and gave a loud yip. I saw a creamy blur shoot out from behind a bookcase.
“Oh, no,” Florence groaned. “Here we go again.” She held onto Pendragon’s arm. “Brace yourself.”
Pendragon looked as mystified as I felt, but the reason was soon plain to see as Nell came racing over, paws skidding on the polished white marble floor. She dashed right under Florence’s skirts, emerging on the other side with her fur a little fluffier than before, and skidded to a halt at my feet. Before I could even react, Neville sprang from my arms. The two fluffins met in a mix of tails and nose-bumps and high-pitched yips.
“They sure sniff one another a lot,” I observed. I glanced at Pendragon and Florence, but they were lost in conversation again.
“Do not even think of sniffing my wife,” a dry voice said behind me.
I turned to see Nyxaris approaching. Even when he wasn’t in dragon form, he was a damned formidable-looking man. He looked extremely polished today in a formal black suit cut in an old-fashioned style, with a fitted pinstriped waistcoat and crisp white linen shirt underneath. His long silver hair was tied back at the nape.
