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“I never forced her,” I said automatically. “We had a betrothal, not a wedding. We don’t really go in for weddings much in Sangratha, at least not among highbloods. They’re more of a blight-born thing, though I’ve always thought they seemed kind of nice.” I remembered something. “All right, I may have forced her once.”

The bear growled threateningly and lifted their ax with both paws. “Just as I thought.”

Pendragon quickly stepped in front of me. “Hawl, stop. You don’t understand.”

“I do not understand?” the bear boomed. “What do I not understand, little cub? This man took you against your will, did he not?”

“Well, yes, at first,” she hedged.

“And you were betrothed to him against your will?” the bear continued.

“Well, yes,” she admitted.

Shit. This wasn’t going so well for me.

“And this man has fangs, does he not? Fangs with which he bites you and drains your blood?”

Pendragon’s face had flushed beet red. I stepped in front of her. “All right, that’s none of your fucking business.” I ducked as the ax came flying forward. “What the fuck!”

“Hawl, stop!” Pendragon shouted.

Around us, some of the priestesses had finally come running out of the nave at the commotion. They took one look at the giant bear and started to scream. Didn’t really blame them. Soon the atrium was empty again except for the three of us.

“Hawl, look at me,” Pendragon was yelling. “If you hurt Blake, I will be very, very upset.”

Upset? We’d have to discuss her word choice later. The bear ignored her and stomped toward me.

“Hawl, I love this man,” Pendragon shouted.

The bear stopped. My consort’s hand was on the bear’s arm. It looked so small there against the background of dark fur.

“Love?” I could have sworn the bear was scowling. “Love, little cub?”

“Yes,” Pendragon said firmly. “He is mine just as I am his. We may not have wanted each other at first …” She glanced at me, and I could have sworn her lips twitched. “We made some mistakes along the way. But we are bonded, and that is how I want it.”

“But he is a monster. A creature of terror. And his hair … his fangs … He has put you in danger,” the bear said.

“I mean, no more than I’ve endangered him.” She frowned. “You don’t understand how it works here. He feeds from me, yes. But only because I allow him to. Where are you getting all of this from, anyhow?”

The bear blinked. “Your mother, of course.”

“I should have known!” She threw up her hands. “Look, we’re not doing this here.” Pendragon turned to me. “A dwarven delegation from below the surface has arrived. They’ve demanded that a moot be called.” She wrinkled her nose. “What is a moot, anyhow?”

“It’s a gathering. Lots of arguing.” I stared at her. “You’re saying there are dwarves outside right now?” I glanced at the bear. “Is that who he came with?”

“They,” she corrected. “Yes, Hawl came with the dwarves.” She looked at the bear. “Though, I’m not sure how exactly. Elaria offered to accommodate the dwarves at the Black Keep. But they’ve insisted upon lodging at Bloodwing. I think some of them want to meet with Rodriguez.”

“Wait. What do you mean you’re not sure how this bear got here, exactly?” I demanded.

She bit her full, lush lower lip, and I had to try to resist the urge to bite her right there in the Sanctum. I knew that wouldn’t go over well with the bear.

“Hawl isn’t from Sangratha. They’re not from this world at all. They’re from Aercanum, just like me.”

Hawl wouldn’t fit in the carriage, so Pendragon and I had some time alone. She filled me in. Apparently, the bear—or Bearkin or Ursidaur, as their species were called back in Aercanum—had known her since she was a baby. Once I heard that, I understood why the bear was so protective. I’d never met Pendragon’s mother, but I got the impression Orcades was quite a character, with a rather unique sense of humor. I wasn’t sure exactly what she’d told Pendragon’s family back in Camelot, but apparently my reputation was already shit there, and Hawl had planned to eliminate me as soon as possible. I mean, depending on when Pendragon’s mother had spoken to them all, I supposed I couldn’t exactly blame them.

As soon as we arrived back at Bloodwing, a student was waiting to escort us to the headmaster’s office. When we got there, Rodriguez ushered us hastily into the boardroom. I walked in behind Pendragon and our illustrious blightborn headmaster slowly, taking in those in attendance. Kage and Lysander were there, of course. Magda Stonefist sat stiffly in a chair, looking as if she was on the fence about being in the room. Beside her sat Visha. I caught Vish’s expression—somewhere between disgust and outright confusion—and immediately glanced at the person seated to her left. A dwarven boy with a cocky grin on his face, about my age. I looked again. No, not dwarven exactly, he must have been a half-blood. He was taller than the other dwarves in the room. Dark curls fell over his eyes like he’d arranged them that way in a mirror. He was leaning toward Visha, one arm slung casually over the back of her chair. Meanwhile, Visha looked like she was trying to decide whether murdering the boy would be worth a diplomatic disaster and interspecies war.

I glanced across the room to where the Ursidaur was standing in a corner, their massive ax resting against one shoulder. The bear was too big to fit into one of the chairs. Considering how uncomfortable the chairs were, they weren’t missing out on much.