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“You stand in the shadow of the Bloodmaiden’s most holy house and dare to blaspheme?” she demanded.

I rubbed my forehead. “Grandmother, most of who I am came from you. You taught me to protect my people. To recognize tyranny. You taught me that power without restraint destroys everything it touches.” I met her eyes. “You hate Viktor Drakharrow. So tell me, why are you so desperate to set yourself up in his place as the next oppressor?”

Her eyes gleamed. “This is an opportunity for Avari. Don’t you see that? And you would squander it. Standing beside Orphos.” Her mouth thinned. Her composure was cracking. “Your mother never should have allowed you to befriend Lysander Orphos when you were children. His house has always been degenerate.”

I stared at her for a second. Then I laughed again. “Degenerate? Are you serious right now?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Do not be deliberately obtuse, Kage.”

“I’m not. Please clarify.” I’d never heard her speak so openly like this before.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice as if afraid we might be overheard. “Affection between men. Or between women. That sort of indulgence is tolerable in the lesser houses or among blight-born. But we must rise above them all. We are meant to hold ourselves to a higher standard. True highbloods do not mate for sentiment. We mate to strengthen bloodlines. When you form your triad—”

“Oh, that’s why you had me agree to become betrothed to Florence Shen, because my mating with a blightborn girl would have helped strengthen our bloodlines?” I was angry at my grandmother and her hypocrisy. But I hadn’t ended my betrothal to Florence because I’d believed her blood wasn’t as good as mine, it had simply been a matter of compatibility. The truth was, as soon as I’d realized Regan was our true mate, I’d had no choice.

“She has a dragon,” my grandmother hissed. “Your betrothal to that girl would have allowed us to consolidate power. You did your duty—and I was proud of you.”

“You were proud of me then, but not now,” I said coldly.

She looked pained. “Your behavior of late confuses me. Now I hear whispers that you and Lysander Orphos went together to retrieve the Pansera girl.”

“The girl who you wish to set up as headmistress again, yes,” I said coolly.

“You risked your life for her. It was unnecessary.” Her gaze sharpened. “Does Lysander know your secret?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Her eyes narrowed. “Does he know about the Avari? Does he know you can become a wolf?” Her voice broke. “Tell me, Grandson, does your betrayal go that far?”

I looked at the stone sculptures surrounding us and felt something inside me breaking free. “It goes much further,” I admitted. “Lysander Orphos has been my consort for more than two years.”

Her breath caught. Still, she would know what that meant. As my consort, Lysander would never betray my wolf. “You bound yourself so completely, without my consent? Without my approval? You bound yourself to a man?” she said, her voice incredulous.

I looked back at her. Elaria Avari and my mother had been my twin rocks growing up. I looked up to them, admired them. I’d trusted them to always do what was best for me. To always know the right thing.

“Yes,” I said simply.

“Leave me,” she said, her voice trembling with rage. “You are no grandson of mine. You have shamed this house. You have shamed your blood. I cast you out of House Avari. May your name rot on the tongues of any who speak it.”

I exhaled slowly. When I spoke, my voice was steady. “No.” Her eyes widened. “I refuse to let you make me feel shame. Not for this.” I stepped toward her, forcing her to look at me. “My love for Lysander is as pure and as natural as my wolf. You may not curse that out of me. Nor may you cast me out.”

“I may not?” she whispered, her lips curling.

“I know where I stand,” I said evenly. “I know my place. I am the future of House Avari, whether you like it or not.”

“You think you have a choice? Why, you—”

“If you do this, you will split House Avari in two, and it will be you who weakens us,” I cut in. “All those at Bloodwing are loyal to me, and you know it.”

She smiled thinly. “That won’t last long. Not when they learn who you’ve allied yourself with.”

I shrugged. “Why don’t we see who makes the better allies?” I started to walk away. “I know who I’d bet on.” I didn’t wait for her to reply. The garden suddenly felt too small for us both after what had just passed between us.

The moment had been coming for years. My one regret was that I hadn’t had the courage to tell my mother while she’d been alive. Lysander and I had been hiding for too long, postponing the inevitable fallout. We’d been hiding who we were, what we felt for each other. I’d had enough pretending. No more.

As I passed back through the temple grounds, my thoughts strayed to Theo Drakharrow. He was a Drakharrow, yes, but he’d been brave enough to love a blightborn and to be open about it. I wondered what his family had had to say about that.

Then there was Regan. The pull I felt was as strong and undeniable as the bond I already shared with Lysander. It wasn’t choice. It wasn’t logic. It was fate. Something far greater and more powerful than any house or doctrine. The three of us were meant for one another. Now all we had to do was make Regan see it, too.