Midnight Fae Academy Book Three - Lexi C. Foss Page 0,28
anything wrong. His grandfather did. You can’t punish him for another man’s sins.”
“Actually, I can. Their familial line has tainted Midnight Fae kind for over a thousand years. Those seeking retribution require the eradication of the Nacht bloodline. And I intend to fulfill that eradication.”
“That makes you no better than Constantine,” I argued. “He attempted to slay an entire race over prejudice. Your kill list might be shorter, but you’re still planning to take innocent lives.”
“It’s a sacrifice we must endure for justice.”
“I won’t let you kill Kolstov.”
He sighed. “When the time comes, you won’t have a choice, Aflora. But”—he pressed his finger to my lips before I could snap a comeback at him—“I will agree to consider your side if you agree to consider mine.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I want you to give me a chance to explain this war to you, to show you why the Nacht family needs to pay for their sins. And in return, I’ll also consider your point of view.”
I narrowed my eyes.
Obviously, I didn’t believe he would ever uphold his side of that agreement. Just as I knew that I would never agree to him hurting Kols. However, his confidence had me wondering what trick lurked up his sleeve.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked.
He smiled. “I want you to attend the Blood Gala with me.”
The Blood Gala?
That was the event Emelyn had mentioned in Warrior Magic class before all hell broke loose.
Fae, when was that? Just yesterday? The day before? I blinked. My sense of time was a mess, thanks to the endless hours of sunshine—which still poured in from the balcony windows of Zakkai’s room—and all the bizarre dreams.
I shook my head, trying to clear it.
“You decline?” Zakkai asked, frowning. “I’m not planning to do anything at the event. I just want you to observe the societal event and give me your thoughts afterward.”
“I was shaking my head in confusion,” I admitted, biting my lip. “You want my opinion?”
“I want to teach you,” he corrected softly. “And to do that, I need to show you how the Midnight Fae operate.”
“At a gala?” I uttered the words slowly, not fully understanding how a fancy party would explain anything to me about Midnight Fae.
“The Blood Gala,” he said.
“Okay. But how will a gala change my mind about Kols?”
“It’s not about Kolstov, Aflora. It’s about purpose.”
“I… I’m not clear on what you mean.”
He considered for a moment before saying, “The Blood Gala is a political affair.”
“Yeah, I get that part.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” he murmured, his eyes catching and holding mine.
My heart skipped a beat. “Okay.” It came out on a whisper. Because the intensity in his gaze told me that I wasn’t going to like whatever he intended to say next.
“Aflora, the Blood Gala is an annual event that celebrates the death of the Quandary Bloods. It’s hosted by the Nacht family, and the sole purpose is for them to gloat over all the blood they’ve spilled. That is what I want you to observe.”
Aflora’s silence confirmed she hadn’t known the purpose of the Blood Gala. She wasn’t a born Midnight Fae, so she didn’t grow up with horror stories about the Quandary Bloods and our terrible intentions.
I nearly snorted.
The Nacht family had destroyed the sixth house of Midnight Fae. All for greed and power. Alas, that was a tale as old as time itself. Everyone sought control. However, Quandary Bloods were the ones born with it.
“What do you plan to do at the Blood Gala?” Aflora asked quietly.
“I already answered that,” I replied.
“You expect me to believe you only want me to observe?”
“I don’t expect anything from you,” I admitted. “I’m asking if you’ll attend with me so I can better explain our cause. That’s all.”
I meant it, too.
The Blood Gala was too obvious a place for us to attack. Besides, our disguises would already require an exorbitant amount of power. Adding violence to the mix wouldn’t bode well for anyone involved.
She studied me, her blue eyes radiating intelligence. It made me want to peek inside her mind, to hear her thoughts. She often spoke them loudly, making it an easy task.
However, I waited for her to utter them out loud instead, content to continue holding her on my lap. She hadn’t put up much of a fight, and I liked how she unconsciously leaned into my touch. Our bond had matured over the years, despite the masking spell.
Breaking it would hurt worse than making her forget—a fact my